Saturday, May 1, 2010

Bloomed, Not Doomed

Here is a poem I wrote early in the year for English where we had to choose whether we'd be a weed or a flower. (PS: making a poem rhyme makes it take four times longer to write, just so you know)

Bloomed, not Doomed

Why be a weed?
They annoy, irritate
With no beauty, no purpose
They inspire us to hate
Their only wish is to live
To fill in the gaps
More appealing things
A weed only entraps
They may be free
To explore the unknown
But a boring life, that is
For they are alone
They have little to offer
They are only doomed

A flower is my choice
They’re a pleasure to see
Delicate and treasured
Are better things to be
Vibrant and extraordinary
I’ll show off with no care
If only to let everyone know
I have something to share
Even when my time is come
And I am picked and sent away
I’ll always be a symbol, by which
you remember that special day
I’ll be in the garden
Worthwhile and fully bloomed

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