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Array
(
[sid] => 48677
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Rose in the Puddle
[time] => 2004-05-22 14:36:58
[hometext] => Yikes...*sigh*
[bodytext] => A delicate rose picked from the garden, Intended as a gift unto an unsuspecting world. Its brilliant intensity in color derived from nourishing rain. Oh, the irony of how that color drains now, The rose lies, Bleeding in a puddle of rainwater. The color, The scent, The flavor, Welling up at first, Then surging out in sobbing spurts of blood-like tears; Tears that come from the heart; The very cliché epitome of pristine emotion. The tiny pool of rainwater engulfs the lonely, fragile rose. The rose Draining, Bleeding, Drowning, Breaking down The passersby just passing by They barely take a look Just bustling round the busy streets Smiling, Laughing, Carefree in their ephemeral daily tasks. They are those that do not even see…that the rose is on its last legs. Though some of them are bustling Frustrated Angry Cursing As they hurry on from hectic appointment to chaotic engagement. As the color and the essence of a lonely and forgotten rose seeps away. Then there are those that trample the rose, Tripping o’er it Stumbling ‘round it Those are the ones that mock the rose, wishing it weren’t there… “What the hell are you doing in the middle of the walk?” “You stupid rose, get outta my way you worthless thing!” As the fervor of loneliness, The vehemence of being forgotten, The strength of the yearning for acceptance, concurrence, or at least favorable reception Swells as a solid, tough balloon and spills out as the wobbly rose weeps. Thunder roars with an earsplitting tympanic climax. Lightning flickers, cackling through the sky. Though she is broken, the rose’s roots are planted in the garden of her heart. She rises tall, looming o’er the cracked pavement in the walk. A faux enthusiasm, full of cheer, Resilience is all her strength’s ambition As she still cries, The color fades The petals crushed just like the dreams. The hope withstands its battle-scars The will will find the way Despite the tramplings of passersby She gulps for air— It’s ionized She thrives on rainy days. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 159 [topic] => 65 [informant] => liquidsunshine [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => toughstuff )
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