Your cart is currently empty!
Persistence, I have heard wishes to touch the moon.
The prickly Bougainvillea does not require a nod
to harbour the bloom of large pink, purple, white
blooming sight, which wishes to protect the flower pod.
I have never felt more at home, but when I do
It is the love of the most precarious sight.
Beauty raises it’s height in a persevering soul.
But, perseverance is never meant to mould
life into love of fine, gold or cold firing.
I have it but does it help? If it does, what makes
It so folded, razed and barren, what makes people
Look at it with awe, holding a taming saw.
I have grown in a valley where nothing else grows.
I mow the lands where people have lost their vows.
I try to reach out, yet it does not help.
I try to blend but perseverance is a huge kelp.
Asking for more and more and more.
Well that took me on a long dive into the world of kelp. (Pun intended.)
This line: “… what makes people/Look at it with awe, holding a taming saw” really struck me. It’s so true – of any personal strength – that many folks both hold it in respect and say or do things to sabotage those who have it. We are such odd creatures.
Beautiful poem.
Yes we are incredibly odd…the only odd ones I guess
Thanks
Nice
Thanks
Nice one there. Thank you
Did I say a thanks to you?
Pardon my reclusive habits..I often shy away from systems