Categories
Poetry

O sweet spontaneous

by e.e. cummings

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

             fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

        beauty      how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
         (but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

             thou answerest


them only with

                              spring)

Categories
Poetry

unnamed

my real name

was stolen

by you

years and years

they called me by names

i did not understand

but now

now

i’m coming to take it

give it back

Categories
Blogs

rose

Yes. 
Yes, a rose is what they call me.
A picture of pretty
Everlasting for eternity.
But if I let go of myself,
Would you still pick me?
Chasing fire to look fire, 
I’ve worked too hard
To be the object of your desire.
Watch me strip myself
Of my fake sparkle.
Who, then,
Would you admire?
So careful. 
Hold me delicately.
Undress me, slowly.
Of all my facade and all my beauty.
Like a broken rose,
Petal after petal,
Uncover my flaws
That I always belittle.
Yes, I’m a rose, 
And I yearn to be free.
If I let go of myself,
I wish you’d still pick me.

Featured image by @ziedrish