[Photo courtesy of Tinted Black Roses]


By Abdul Shaban



Even at my darkest I still bloom,
At my lowest at my doom.

A lilly from the valleys,
A lone soul without allies.

I watch my shadow with delight,
Staring down from the height.

With happiness my face ignites,
Am not a bunch, not a bonquette.

Staring at what’s behind the wall,
Cuz I’ve been there I’ve seen it all.

A black rose that blooms on earth,
In a planet where am unheard.

Humming the melodies of the birds,
Making my way to unknown lands.

Inhaling the tender grapes with good smell,
For a soul that’s walked straight outta hell, yet sees the best in it all.

Like a dove that art in cleft of rocks,
Like a flightless bird whose wing just broke.

For so long I hid behind the stairs,
But now I rise with answered prayers.

A black rose I still bloom,
At my lowest at my doom.


The online involvement editor manages this author. The articles posted are associated with the various writers and editors for the involvement Newspaper.

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