A sack, full of rose
I see them to be for sale
Gives me a feeling
As if brought from a slaughter house.
I can see the sack
Being soiled with their tears.
The roses, in the form of bouquets -
Seem to be some decorated coffins,
Cleaned, polished and decorated
For their last rite to be performed.
After the felicitation or a party
They are no more so hearty,
Bouquet of smothered roses
Are found to be in the gutter or dustbin.
But the rose never cares these brutal atrocities
It spreads it's splendor and flavor with generosity.
Standing in a distance I went on thinking -
The tiny rose what it does
I'm nowhere near to it.
From the garden up to the dustbin -
A rose's passage or a journey.
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Amitava (27.04.2014) 10 -00 am
©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AMITAVA SUR
What a lovely poem is it! How penetratingly you looked into the matter, we must learn the lesson what those rose tell us..... it's lovely
Yes indeed we should be ashamed, the flowers, the trees the wind the rivers mountains and the sea all are giving self unconditionally but we only use them never giving back not even a thank. When the nature will be our teacher the world will change. We need to learn to connect the way you connected your feelings to the roses. Great lesson taught, thank you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a beautiful poem, Amitava - now a favorite of mine. Great imagery and expression of the life of a rose, it's separate journey. A very meaningful and thoughtful lesson that you have found hidden in the petals of a rose. Thank you for sharing this one, I love it! RoseAnn