Withered flower, on you wilt,
In the garden angels built,
Your weeping petals their repose,
Drifting, drowning red, red rose.
Until the day your earth it dries,
As water weeps from soulful eyes,
And whispers tell of dry to be,
The dirt below eternity.
My eyes have seen your gustful ways,
As poor sad flower sways and sways,
Do not die, its time to grow,
As nesting birds their heart they sow,
And angels dance upon your thorns,
Resting for the early morn
-
Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 15th, 2026 06:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, arqios, A.N.
Offline)
Comments5
This poem blends the beauty of the real world with the fantasy and imagined angelic. Nicely done
Thanks again. Your interpretations are elegant and to the point.
You are welcome and most kind
Beautifully written!
Ty for the compliment
Nicely done. Your poem focuses on a withered flower in a garden, representing fragility, sorrow, and the natural cycle of life and death. You painted an imagery of angels, weeping petals, and nesting birds, which suggests a connection to spirituality, nature, and the hope of regeneration.
Your interpretation was beautiful and perfect. As always. ♥️
The ‘angels dancing upon thorns,’ that’s what did it for me! 🙏🏻🕊️
Thanks for enjoying the poem.
Most welcome 🙏🏻🕊
Idea of divine sovereignty versus human control, presenting faith as liberating rather than restrictive. thoughtful
Thank you for reading and commenting
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.