James Darwin Smith II

Gold Star - 5,413 Points (10/6/74 / San Diego, CA)

The Embattling Rose And The Statue Of Mourning - Poem by James Darwin Smith II

A rose dies held in the hands of a lover’s mourning
Frigid and cold, a weltered state of dormant
Concreted hands motionless
Stuck in an icy burning
With grief stricken in self-remorse


Silence, Nothingness chills the air
Eyes stuck in a distant stare
Stuck far beyond any sight could ever see
Becoming a myth to all that stopped believing
A complexity of many emotions grieving


Senses fail
Stone silence torment
The Rose tries to live on
Barely living
Dreaming of one day being passed on


The source dwindling
Once thriving in the hands of life
Bereft in a clinging strife
Ice cycles of tears from voided eyes
Never to be seen from ever again


The rose keeps on fighting
No matter how bleak things may be
It never stops believing
No matter how many years pass on by
There has to be something, beyond anything


Dying days of a lover’s rose
Falling to the ground into the soil of lost dreams



The sun finally rises
The rose tattered and torn
Trying to live again
All in the name of love



Someday a fresh flesh warm set of hands will pick up this deadened rose
As it bequeathed hope for those whom are longing for love



The spirit will live on
No matter how alienated the present may be
The future is full of light
In the eyes of a lover’s most passionate of dreams


Warmth and light in the hands of love’s eternity
No matter what season may be seized


Even in the dark
The light can still be a dream achieved


Beyond anything
The rose shall be a part of the statue
Reborn, in the eyes of an all-time bright destiny


True love waits beyond any other eyes that could never see
The worth of a spirit guided by the light of an angel’s dream



Handed down by an unconditional love finally seized

Warmth and light in the hand of love’s eternity finally achieved

If not now later, Always believe


Pick up a dying rose
And in the hands of a lonely statue
And life will exist beyond any sort of belief


Do you smell the rose?
The spirit of love in its grasp will always be set free

All one has to do is, Always believe

Topic(s) of this poem: believe, helpless

Form: Ballad


Poet's Notes about The Poem

Written on 11/10/15

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 10, 2015



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