Wild rose• Show poetry

Poetry is my savior, sometimes i even forgot how much it gives me pleasure..my writings reflects always the way i feel and sometimes my own personnality
Im a passionate person.. very senstive.. i do expect a lot in my life .I work hard fr the things im passionte about...
but sometimes my wishes overwhelm me ..leaving me hollow and hungry yearning fr things i cant quite reach, so i end up blaming myself..

WIlD ROSE by Poet Raja (PAPA)

In the wilderness of Lebanon
I found a wild crimson rose
Tender and sweetness I saw
Fully blossomed looking up
At the sky with youthful innocence
Seeking solace from the heavens

~*~

A beloved child of the wilderness
She stood lonely and alone
A heart filled with divine love
A soul longing for sacred union
Raindrops of tears falling down
Her wounds raw and bleeding

~*~

I am a wanderer searching for truth
A man seasoned by the struggles of life
Gaining wisdom from many a downfall
Learning to seek only the truth hidden
For the seeker to find but no one else
Here in the wilderness in her I see truth

~*~

A sweet daughter for a man who has none
One who has so much comfort to give
For those in need, lonely and alone
Having known the pain of loneliness
And the cruel piercing of the sabre
Breaking a heart so tender and loving

~*~

In the velvety softness of her crimson petals
Adorned with dew drops of tender love
Pools of eyes filled with sorrow and pain
I see the longing for simple understanding
Youthful passion hidden beneath sadness
A wild crimson rose in the wilderness of Lebanon


AS I told Joel..Im honored that he considers me his daughter for I will be more than proud to call him my father...Joel is a very wise person yet so understanding and loving
Thank you Joel...My father
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PApa,I am in love by poet raja

A sweet song floats in the wind
A little bird singing her heart song
From the wilderness of a land far
Telling of her pleasure at findings
That she knows, would please her papa

~*~

Such is the melody, it warms my heart
The childish eagerness and joy exuded
In her heart song, caressing my soul
Touching my very core with happiness
For my little girl, I have never seen

~*~

I have done well in school, papa, she coos
Knowing her papa cares, softly pleasing
Gentle are her words as they float
Behind the words are the joys of youth
Finding the love of her life, a soulmate

~*~

Papa, I am in love, whispers her song
Floating in the kindly wind bringing
Glad tidings, as pleased as I am
Knowing what she has gone through
I am glad and happy for my little girl.

~*~

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SADDEST POEM
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
PABLO NERUDA
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One week

For one desperate week she wanted you,
To gnaw your cracked cuticles until they bled,
Then drain them dry, your bloods commingling. In bed
She conjured up your eyes as green, not blue,
And pleased, instead of pleading to undo
The spell she'd cast. Desire gave her head-
Aches, stirred her ovaries, made her hipbones spread,
Her spine stack, her toes curl inside each shoe.

You never knew. But I did. So I pissed
A ring around you to keep her out, disinterred
The local vampire, asked when she'd been bitten,
Wore the peacock pumps you couldn't resist,
Crossed off each day, not worried or deterred,
Reading her like a book that I had written
Traci Elder O'Dea

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Once I Did Kiss Her Wetly on the Mouth

Once I did kiss her wetly on the mouth
and her lips loosened, her tongue rising like a fish
to swim in my waters
because she learns the world
by tasting it, by taking it inside.

I desired it—her learning my tongue that way.

Yes, I wanted to soul-kiss my daughter,
to lather, slaver the toothless gums
and the cat-arched back of her palate,
to sniff the bouquet of baby's breath
all the way to the vase of her throat

Look at her, in her highchair,
wearing her yam goatee

I like to take her whole foot in my mouth

Look at her, in her bib
slung backward, like a superhero's cape—
beware, small villains everywhere

Oh, that first day
when the nurses returned her to my cot
so newly minted, her soles were black from ink
they laid her, naked, on my naked chest
so she could swell my breasts with milksong,
so I could warm her skin with my skin,
and so, next to my more regular heart,
her skittish beat would steady—
though I swear when she latched on
all meter, music changed

I whispered in her see-through ear
I'd keep her safe forever—
I, her first lover.

Beth Ann Fennelly
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Learning by Heart

I began to forget him as I wrote, erasing
every word he said with a long wave of
ink that drowned the sound of his voice
and washed away all traces
of his hands.

It was as if I was wrapping him up in a word
and sending the package somewhere far away,
as if I was losing claim to his heart
the minute I began to say
what he meant to me.

So, of course, I stopped and began to put the words
back into my heart where they belonged,
taking up each letter carefully,
wiping away the tarnish of ink
on the sheen of sound.

Afterwards, pasting in the torn pages, recovering
as much as possible, I read it over
again and again the way one does,
realizing, then, the sad
necessity of rote.

Joyce Sutphen
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WHY

Why didn't I listen to what they said?
When I thought about it, I was filled with dread
They told me to be careful in all I do
I didn't believe it, this couldn't be true

He said he loved me, & didn't want to hurt me
It was all a lie, now I see
If I listened to my friends from the start
He might not have left with most of my heart

I thought it was different, the love to last
How did this happen? Why did it end so fast?
I won't be the last, and I wasn't the first
How did this happen? Why am I cursed?

They said it's his loss, but I still don't see
Why? Why did he do this to me?
I'll do my best, and try to move on
Even though it feels like my heart is gone
Now I know to listen to my friends
For they will be with me in the end
by Jess Gallagher