It was the season of love,
In a garden full of flowers,
Surrounded by Roses and Tulips,
Carnations and Lillies,
Stood an Orchid all alone.
As the garden was raided by lovers galore,
To please their beloved,
In the name of love,
They plucked the Sunflowers and Peonies too.
But none of them entered the bog,
Amidst which the lone orchid grew,
Its bewitching beauty hidden to all.
And with its petals of delicate refinement,
It still stood tall,
With a rare yet radiant glow,
Gracious in the woodlands shade,
Proudly it stood alone.
Unknowing to all a girl had been struck,
By its solitary charm,
The next day she quietly tip toed into the bog,
Entranced by its beauty she touched its petals,
Not one to disturb its solitude though,
The Orchid she never did pluck,
Instead she planted a few more bearing the same unique charm,
In the shade of that mucky bog,
Just so it wouldn’t be alone,
At the onset of the next season of love.
P.S.: I know the flower in the photograph is not an Orchid but a Hibiscus. Orchids are my favourite flowers and this picture was the closest I could get to a picture with a flower and also the theme of the poem. Thankyou!
“A Tale of a Woman who has promised an Eternity to only one man in her Lifetime”
Each time I talk to you,
I am filled with a warmth,
That words fail to describe.
Each moment with you,
Brings time to a stand still,
My emotions an open book,
As I delve into their depths,
Everything, Only makes me realize;
There can never be another,
There is no other safe haven,
Not for me.
I can’t promise an eternity to someone else,
Not in this lifetime,
Even if I failed to be your light,
The place you find peace,
Or your home.
And as the tears flow down,
I just want you to know,
When it came to you,
Destiny never gave me a choice,
Love for you was preordained,
And ever since that happened,
Never once have I wanted to leave its snares.
She wanted to be the girl in his poems,
The one he would never forget.
She wanted to be the girl in his sketches,
The one he would always need,
Just like the air he breathes.
She wanted to be the girl in his dreams,
The one he would fight for,
One he would forever be at the side of.
Instead she became the girl who wrote odes to her pain,
In trying to become his muse,
She lost her own self.
The girl who pretended to be happy even when sad,
Tried to be strong even when weak,
All this just for him;
Her hollow eyes had no expression,
When she realised she was so replaceable, so easily forgotten.
Even after all that, Lust driven men chased after her,
Trying to claw at the numb remains of a body, with a shattered soul,
Nobody seemed to care, she had emotions too.
Left Uncared & Unloved for, people sing praises of her strength,
The girl who became her own muse.
A girl who seems stone cold,
Shrouded in a constant mystery,
One who loved and fought with all her being,
something the ones in her life failed to reciprocate.
A wounded tigress they call her,
But she is just a girl with a dead soul,
One whose tears fail to flow,
One who feels she has no regrets, To the extent that,
She finds her mere Existence pointless.