|There is a rose so deep,so dark|
No glints of light or little spark
Nay people lay their eyes on her
They misconstrue her limpid care
She is a rose on gothic tomb
No lifeblood creeps her catacomb
The moonbeams wish to give her life
But every ray begets a strife
There is a dead rose withering
Spoiled by winter,putrefying
Somehow,somewhere there's poetry
That saw her with grim prodigy;
A monolith of weird banshees
The kinds that stirs the poetess.
There is a black rose on the floor
Quashed in the darkroom,evermore.
This is a collection of poems that I have written from the time i arrived in Hong Kong up to the present ; they tell of the things I have experienced and some speak of the experiences of others.Most of the poems were published in the e-pub of Asian Human Rights Commission and WUNRN (Women's United Nations Report Network) Some of my works regarding violence against women and poverty were also published in www.shetizenjournalist.com and www.worldpulse.com .
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Black Rose
Posted by Airyn Sloan at 7:25 PM
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Post a Comment