PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You can’t starve yourself to move yourself

The words that you type can’t hurt as well

The physical sense derives from sense

When you lose your mind in innocence



Yet fortune falls in the strangest of ways

The emptiness sits for hours and days

Till the rivers turn stagnant and infect the plains

And the land and the trees are soon washed away



And like the Acacia flower that you dared to scorn

When you ripped out the leaves, the roots were torn

You found the lost petals to which the flower is only as good

If it is to withstand the frost and the flood  



And the purpose of these plants is superficial and yet

There is not a flower that has not yet been kept

We are drawn to them by our own selfish will

And desire to place them upon our window sill



Yet the sweetest rose owns prickly thorns

But upon the right breast, it is sweetly worn

Still the Acacia wilted and died the frost

So its owner kept searching till he too was lost