Treasure Island

Leslie Alexis

(111111111 / Grenada)

The Rose Doesn't Wither


Why do poets feed on sorrow (and darkness)
That none is greater than Poe
Who perfected the woe;
Why is it this way?

That even in my own
It is easy to slip
And get trapped in pity
That is windblown

And dry to its final form
That quickly becomes normal
And smiles as words conform
To this mediocrity of life

Why do we, words' sculptors,
Forget the rose doesn’t wither
When captured in a picture...

Copyright ©2011 Leslie Alexis

Submitted: Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Edited: Saturday, February 22, 2014

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  • Marcus Mckinley (4/8/2014 2:51:00 PM)

    living in the moment, then living in the past. that is what a photo does. it is an escape form reality if only for a moment. your picture albums must be immense. (Report) Reply

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