The Red Rose – story of Ora

The Red Rose

When spring blossoms in the atmosphere, new life nurtures.

Various colours, shapes and sizes,

All special in their own way.

The most beautiful rose in town,

The crimson colour of red it holds.

The sweet smell captured in the finest mixes of scents,

Each coil reveals a story.

The red rose

As perfect as perfection could be,

Till the day a petal sheds,

Then more…

The beauty is no longer admired with such ore’

Life can sometimes feel like that : the red rose with its lost beauty.

The red rose

Having shed the few petals makes the difference.

People no longer want the red rose in their perfectly manicured gardens.

Have you ever admired the red rose ?

I have

I am the red rose”

Yet I believe and know;

I still hold the beauty within my cuts and creases,

As pretty as I once blossomed, opened each coil, flourishing making the earth pretty.

The red rose still captures the sweetness of nature

-A.P-

Silent Night

Silent night , silent night….

Oh shall you speak ?,

Speak with warmth and desire;

For that is all I require.

Silent night , silent night

Hold me tight,

So I can make it feel right.

Wrap me in your blanket of darkness,

Set me free,

For that is how I want to be.

Silent night, silent night

Bless upon me like a shooting star.

Resurge me,

For that is what I urge to…

Silent night, silent night

Grant me the wish of freedom,

Over my lonesome kingdom,

Greed, lust and need shall serve their deed.

Silent night, silent night ,

Oh do not go, for I shall never know what your beauty holds;

All of those stories told….

Silent night, silent night….

Oh shall you speak…?

-A.P-

The Reach… In hope of

The reach… In hope of

My fingers tremble, as my hand reaches out,

I keep that surreal look to my mind,

In some hope of touching the untouched.

The season of spring brings some glory to my hope.

Life had turned anti clockwise.

My fingers tremble,

My soul keeps trying,

As the physical body is on its last drive,

I feel the attempt will fail me yet once again.

The winter cold makes me shiver,

And the storms try and fight me.

Each look towards pure innocence seems so unreal.

Oh why do my fingers tremble.

As nature strips the tress and hope of life in Autumn, I await with my heart clenched in my throat.

My fingers tremble.

Minute after minute,

Hour after hour,

Day after day,

Week after week,

Month after month,

Season after season,

Year after year,

I do not give up

In hope of my journey to end,

Achieving success.

In summer the sun burns each layer of me,

I still reach in hope…

My fingers tremble.

There is a cycle I am locked up in and all my withered body knows is that I’m reaching out in hope.

My fingers tremble.

-A.P.

This picture is painted by Mayhem”

Thank you for sharing it with me

And the writing is based on the painting

The Dark Knight’

The Dark Knight’

Introduction

Is the story of a Princess who once made a mistake; the one that cost her ,her Smile

The Dark Knight

Shining armour,

Sword sharper than the mighty Pen,

Bright, almost as the strongest rays of the sun reflecting off silver,

The Dark Knight stole my Smile.

Colours, once so warm, lit up my path,

yellow, red and blue’,

The Battle fields were lit up,

Roaring with grief, once mentioned in the Mahabharata,

As old as Sanskrit (Language or ancient India),

Thats how vague the memory is to me now.

The Dark Knight Stole my Smile.

Vultures now guard my kingdom,

Where I now reside, high up above,

So high, almost away from humanity;

Rustling old leaves, now far off photosynthesis are the only sound that replaces the sound of my hearts beat,

Creeky doors, that were once galvanised, replace the dream catchers bells,

And the Hooting Owls, the sound of the golden Harp.

The Dark Knight stole my Smile.

The shackles are really heavy, giving away the smell of rusting iron.

They almost feel like my glass Bangles I once wore.

No features on my face are the same (not that I can see),

No features on my face Feel’ the same,

They once contained my personality.

I have no mirror, the only close reality to one are the tear drops I shed,

The Dark Knight stole my smile.

A.P.

MIRRORS

Mirrors

I am a mirror to my body’

I am a mirror to my Mind’

I am a mirror to my deranged thoughts’

I am a mirror to my locked up soul’

“Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the most miserable of us all?”

Mirrors were once an object that ancient Egyptians, Romans and Greeks were very fond of.

For instant a broken mirror till this day is said to bring 7 years of bad luck.

They say that the mirror symbolically Inceases what it reflects’ (Feng shui)

Cracks in mirrors can fragment your life’ how does one reverse a fragmented self’

Mirrors are known to increase vital Chi (energy) of a space itself, than what about me?

“Mirror mirror on they wall, who is the most Displaced of us all?”

The human mind will see only’ what it wants to see, in the most truthful object possibly ever known of; The Mirror’

Unfortunately the human mind cannot sight beyond appearance, skin, hair, or even a fake smile set in a locked mirror image called a photograph.

False inner self’

False Smile that tries to hold the day’

False attitude I we wear’

The mirror shows us all;

what is it that you would to sight ?

Mirror mirror on the wall who is the sweet soul locked inside of me?’

Mirror replies at last, look deep within and you will see what your searching for, it is not lost yet, wake up and look into the beauty that you still portray. Look at the real meaning behind that fake smile, Look behind the first layer of your skin and shall find what you seek my child ’  –  Ora’

I look so hard and so dedicated yet I still cannot find what I’m trying to view.

I keep looking for hours and hours till the day ends and all I manage to find after a struggle is; A miserable me.

Mirror Mirror on the wall’……..

A.P.

 

 

The Locked up soul

 

This little piece is dedicated to myself, and the intro of “The Locked up soul”, which will be one of my dominant topics, a little story about myself, possibly the other side of me that I once lost.

 

Where is her soul?

Why has she always cried out to search where she is ? I think I can  hear her.

 

she is lost’

amongst herself’

amongst the amidst of life’

she lost her soul a long time ago’

Very far away from here’

 

Once upon a time there was a little girl,

she loved to smile and her giggles would light up the room.

She was pure and innocent to the world,

The world that along her journey stole her smile’

her little chuckle would now echo inside my mind

The warmth of her presence is just an eerie feeling now,

and her memory is what lives on each day…

till the day she will find her soul

Till she relives again.

 

 

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑