Thorns and Roses

Leonell Echa

She killed a wolf and the Fae arose
This is not a tale of minions
Her passion and guilt were purely rose
Now she bears this crown…or thorns

Oluwadamilola Hybrid

Good and evil
Together in wholesome rhythm
Roses are beautiful
It’s thorns inevitable

Vera Bonny

He was the thorn, I the rose
The kiss of fate together face,
My amber pollen petals pricked,
The scars are proof alone to show every rose has its thorn

Rudolph Ruddapoet

In the dews of pain I molded WOMAN,
threshing the mortal manhood of the maker’s POTION.
The elixir poisoned her sweet lips in purple colors of a love; ROSE,
shredding from the hands of a god her blood now has THORNS.

Jennifer Dafwat

Thorns and roses
Life has both in doses
Once upon a time we were saved by Moses
Now we must wield our amour to get more wine and roses

Jimeta Umar

What is the marriage between thorns and roses that I should prick myself?
What is the idea behind hugging a cactus that I should be restless?
What’s the odour behind sniffing the air for a scent caress?
What’s the gift of a rose if thorns were it’s curse?

Desmond Adeoye-Adetoba

Out of the prickling pout of thorns spawn roses
In all charm, tenderness and beauty captivating.                      
I am a soul of two halves ensemble                                        
In the darkness of evil and the purity of light.                            

Prudence Obadan-Enujiofor

Once upon a time
Thoms and Roselyns were God’s perfect creation
Now upon a time
Thorns and Roses define their path to meet their creator

Anre John

Of Thorns and Roses
Your heart a nectar my desire Probosis
Of Guns and Roses
Shots of love like madness came the prognosis

Sam Ojiyi

O! Like long branching stems I held her to the light, in selfless duty.
Yet, she defiantly bared her horns; I’ve always been suspicious of beauty.
But as the palm wine tapper risks a fall so brothers can get their daily dose;
I reach upward through sharp thorny bristles to feel the sweet petals of her rose.

Oluwaseun Okunlola

Somewhere out there grew a patch of glorious succulent greens.
And on the stems were pointed guards that asked for a rethink.
For though the classy endings spoke of beauty and release,
The pedestals on which they stood said handle with care please

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One comment

  • Anre John

    March 10, 2016 at 7:23 pm

    Life itself is a delicacy of both. The sweet smell of the petals, its visual appeal and the piercing of pain that comes when it pleases…


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