November 15, 2008

The Violet


The image “” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.
There on another cloudless Sunday morning,
Was strolling on a green hill side.
There beneath rocks I smelt a modest-
Violet, caught red-handed spreading its smell.

It was small then,
As if just bloomed-
But I felt shy then, to pluck it from the rocks,
For I was sent to fetch haystacks from the barn.

So on I went for my work-
Toiled I in the barn, cutting hay and boxing it in containers,
Sweat broke like a dam burst,
But I was still happy.

For at the end of the day, I was to take the violet-
And show it to my mother,
She might have resented, for 'twas not the rose she planned.
But I was sure she would accept it.

As I set off from my work,
I approached the rocks by which I saw the beauty,
Alas! it was plucked,
Not for me anymore!


  1. wrk scene and feelings clearly expressed .....u cud have plucked it before going to the barn...for u wud have shwn it to the mother....

    well written,,.....
    tis is a poem of a different kind though....completely different frm others which r bounded to emotions,frwn and sad some extent.....good

    hpe to read mre of ur post....

  2. well guys.. it seems that real stories are expressed better..

  3. wow.. real nice...
    Felt like reading one of those poems frm school.....

    Good.. good..



Comments are sexy.