In gardens where roses bloom bright and fair,
A soul wanders with a discontented stare,
Nothing but flaws in the beauty they see,
In a world of wonder, they're never quite free.
With furrowed brows and an ever-critical eye,
They peer at the petals and heave a sigh,
The colors are faded, the fragrance too faint,
Perfection's portrait they never cease to paint.
A sunset's glow or a nightingale's song,
To the critical mind, they all seem wrong,
A cloud in the sky or a note too flat,
Nothing's quite right, always something to combat.
The joy in the journey, the thrill in the chase,
Lost in the details, they can't embrace,
The pleasures in life, the simple delight,
Trapped in a tunnel, never seeing the light.
A feast for the senses, a bountiful spread,
Yet they pick and poke, their pleasure dead,
The spice too mild, the wine too sweet,
In their quest for fault, joy's taste they never meet.
What could have been, what should have been so,
They're chained by thoughts they'll never let go,
Missing the wonder, the love, and the grace,
In search of flaws, they forget life's embrace.
Let us learn from their sorrow, their never-ending plight,
To see the beauty, the charm, and the light,
For life's too short to nitpick and rue,
Embrace the imperfect, let joy shine through.
© Susie Stiles-Wolf
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Author:
GeekSusie (
Offline) - Published: September 15th, 2023 14:30
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: peto, Soman Ragavan
Offline)
Comments4
This has wonderful flowing rhyme and clearly speaks of those that never have anything good to say, always seeing only flaws and just pick at everything. Excellent writing!
„Yet they pick and poke, their pleasure dead“ that really did it for me I really loved your poem it seems classic and modern melancholic at the same time…:)
Tremendous write
In a language I can understand
For a change
With my eyes wide open
i see the beauty so many may miss
Superb susie
Welcome back to English for a while (I'm hesitant to trust Google translate when it comes to poetry).
Do you banish all critiques of the circumstances we find ourselves in? Is it not possible to simultaneously appreciate, nay rejoice in some of the riches life provides, but at the same time be able to offer suggestions for its improvement? Imperfection lies everywhere – that could be perceived as what makes life interesting, dynamic.
All this is not to say I didn’t enjoy your work – I did.
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