From the life of a rose

 

Poor, little rose

Your leaves are gold

Your thorns are torn

Before your time, you grew old…

 

You’ve bet your future

On a single flower

On your tomorrow

You have no real power.

 

You live and you bloom

And try year after year

To spread your seeds and grow

Without a single tear.

 

You strive towards survival

Everything else pales…

Existence in itself is your goal

With all it entails.

 

With water and sun

You feed your growth

You know nothing else

Except your life’s oath…

 

To live and to spread

To populate the earth

With your sweet perfume

And the promise of rebirth.

 

With all the colors of love

And the shades of lust…

To survive, you’ve always

Learned to adjust.

 

So your roots, your thorns

Are just the means

To protect your flower

And pass on your genes.

 

And you bloom again

When your season comes

And a single, red flower

Your life it becomes.

 

Because your only flower

Means you are alive

And year after year

Your line will survive…

 

 

Samoila Oana Andreea

First love

 

I remember that second

Of pure blithe

And the way my heart beat…

It was love at first sight.

 

Quickly it deepened

What was ignited at first

The moment I fell

I knew I was cursed.

 

Always to imagine

To live in my head

Never to have silence

To always sew a thread.

 

But I loved them

And I love them still

Beautiful words

Flowing from my quill.

 

I love each letter

And the way they sound

How uniquely combined

Roll of my tongue.

 

I love their elegance

And also their grace

And the way they work together

To form one phrase.

 

Old, dead or forgotten

Or shiny, new terms

All can dribble honey

Or prick with their thorns.

 

Some strange alchemy

Gives them new form

And from the ashes of feelings

New meanings are born.

 

We use them all the time

But leave them hollow

Because used undiluted

Can make them hard to swallow.

 

Our ears are assaulted

Each and every day,

By rivers of words

With nothing to say.

 

We choke up their truth

And go to any length

To smother their flame

Afraid of their strength.

 

We add layers and layers

Of worthless sound

That weave a cage

Where their meaning is bound.

 

But the flame of my love

Burns just as hot

No matter how they broke them

Forgo them I cannot.

 

 

Samoila Oana Andreea