Wild Roses* Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)
Wild Roses*
We the wild roses
grow on the rambling vine.
Confront the question this poses
seed the way of the disciplined mind.
A thorn this world to our senses
embedded savagely, our tortured flesh.
Lost in memory. Ancient cultivated terraces.
Sculptured beauty. Perfection now buried at rest.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
I love this poem, it is like philosophy in a song, tugging at the heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/22/2024 12:37:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
To our senses! With the muse of peace and love. Thanks for sharing.