Taher Shemaly

Rookie - 20 Points (17/8/1980 / Kuwait)

Past Tense - Poem by Taher Shemaly

long, long time ago
in the past tense of my life
there was once a rosey rose
with a beauty sharper than a knife
spoiled by every dropp of rain
on her petals so reddish as blood
playful in such childish vain
though never she had to leave her bud

day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move

the wisdom it says by virtue
this rose shall live and live along
as long the sun is singing golden
and the rain is playing its own song
but in case the light becomes so dim
and the weather helps not the eye
standing shall not be that rose's stem
and the whole thing shall be just a lie

day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move

but for some reason I cannot find
my eyes closed and once open again
to find myself moveless in bound
without a feeling of the world of insane
but thank to the Lord of heavens in up
my head is beside a rosey rose in here
even though my heart is going to stop
my rose with me got me out of fear

day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move

sleepless nights and days
how long did I spend in there
my tears are going down alone
but so the rose stayed to me so near
and yet when people go alone
and to me never get back again
my rose is there bending down
swore that she'll never leave me again

day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move

by the sounds of the angels
the petals dropped on my cheek
and when my soul is roaming
doesn't know what I have to seek
comes again my rose from heaven
and to me gives a shining salute
I'm never lonely as she was saying
and my to keep faith in her so absolute

day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move

Thus, goes my story
of that rose's glory
and from that sand
shall I not get stand
but to say goodbye
O ye passer by
once in past tense of my life
I had a rose that was living by

day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move...


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 2, 2006



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