Roses

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Today I passed by a flowershop
as colorfull as my ancient soul,
but my eyes were fixed
on a bucket of white roses.
White roses upon the dust
of a graveyard never visited,
flakes of snow covering their petals
pressing them against the dead bodies.
Dead bodies, dead spirits,
eyes that will never again see,
hands that will not touch nor feel,
mouths that won’t speak, that won’t whisper.
What if I bought those roses
and laid them on my ribs,
will they give life to the dead heart
I am carrying around?
Or will they die, like roses upon graves?

Jehona Thaqi ©

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7 thoughts on “Roses

  1. Wow! I love your style. Taking the reader down one train of thought to emphasize what you suprise them with in the end.

    This is a form of poetry that I haven’t tried. Is there a name for it, or did you develop it yourself?

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    1. Thank you so much for the kind words! If there is a name for this kind of poetry I am yet too ignorant to tell you how it is called. I do not know if there is a specific name, but I can tell you the names of writers who have inspired me lately; F. Scott Fitzgerald (my all-time favorite) , Louis de Bernières, Edgar Allan Poe and Ismail Kadare (an Albanian writer). Eventhough they all have different styles of writing, they all leave me speechless. Their writings are mesmerizing. I hope I have helped you with my answer, and thank you again!

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      1. Poe, my favorite. What do you suggest I read from Fitzgerald? What is his most pollard work? These days I usually check out an audio book from the library and listen as I drive.

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