General Poetry posted June 2, 2013 |
A freestyle poem about bulbs and life.
The Bulbs Buried within One's Life
by Mike K2
In the cold- bleak, life cannot be found;
away from sight and mind; it still thrives underground. The more wintery spates one is subjected to; the more one knows life will again ensue. One can always through the darkness, look out; for the renewing vestiges of life to spring about. Not all buried gems start out the same, Even under bubbles of icy glaze, if conditions are right, one can find a bulb sprouting seeking to reign. Soon like citizens gathering to celebrate, colorful stands quickly thicken and inundate. Blue and white bells, tulips, lily of the valley and daffodils; with a colorful parade and symphony of fragrance one's mind and life is now filled. Even though summer and fall bulbs will display; though more sparse, they boast striking, tall and stately. Rip out these roots of life so they can't be grown; But don't be surprised if a few still insist on being shown. As the world toward life's truth will always bear; even if one's life is a wasteland, bulbs remain there. For even in the cold bleak, for life seemingly not found; Away from sight and mind, there is still life thriving underground. |
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