Roses smell differently
When you fry them in a pan
With lot of ghee and
Little bit of sugar
May be the roses are not meant to be fried.
But every rose that blooms today
Will die tomorrow
If I were a rose
What would be my choices?
Would I rather wait for the night
To kiss me to a slow death
Or prefer a lover to kill me instantly
To make me a symbol of love?
May be I would die as a
Spice in the food of someone’ life.
May be the roses are not meant to die.
chelliah pandian's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (roses by chelliah pandian )
- This world is messy, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Barriers within, Namita Sawant
- Ma mate kahuchhi, gajanan mishra
- The New Watch, Terence Murphy
- My mother is telling me, gajanan mishra
- The Search, david kush
- Belissima, Patricia Spears Jones
- Ghosts, Patricia Spears Jones
- Let me proceed forward, gajanan mishra
- Beloved of God, Patricia Spears Jones
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