Sunday, February 3, 2008

Of the Red Rose and the Carnation

Tonight as I sit alone,

My heart doth speak of the stories bygone,

Of the red rose and the carnation,

Odiferous yet thorny.

Tonight as I sit alone,

My mind rambles and shambles,

Thinking hard, usually, except now – harder,

Of the red rose and the carnation,

Lush the garden is with canny buds,

And brambles and herbs sprawl therein,

As the bees dance to the chords of winds,

Still, they know not about the red rose in.

For the rose despite its color,

Does not lie amongst those beds of garden.

Beauty is the carnation; it’s worth a thousand gazes,

Gay is the hue of its purple-red flair,

But still lies a discord within,

Not of the carnation, but of the heart.

Scar does the red rose bring,

When this hand doth grasp upon it,

And when released this hand doth bleed,

But still, it is the red rose – odiferous.

Tonight as I sit alone,

My vision doth ponder and wonder,

Of the red rose and the carnation,

And the garden lush of brambles and herbs.

As the bees dance to the chords of winds,

Still, they know not about the red rose in.

-Mohd. Shazani bin Masri

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