A Rose 🌹 is a Rose 🥀 is a Rose 💐

I say with quite an unswerving conviction that whatever form of posterity love ❤️ takes through me , it surely draws upon a wide variety . It’s range extends into similes, metaphors and as well into parodies, with underpinnings that make me tantalizingly closer to love more than any. It whispers sweet nothings as in verses carelessly spreading in sprees. Intently so, its Provence alongside its piercings, underlie in the following:

Disclosure—

Dear reader, this then, above all the deep down revelations, dares in exacting ( rather perfecting it, here and now,) the didactical tonal cleaves of love; vaunting nor wailing to the end of this excessive. To that, bear me in peace!

And as is, it equals to—me celebrating you in me, as originally as can be. Indubitably so, for my sort of poetic utterances, perhaps landing more fairly, (now more than ever, ) over your eyes, to envision —WHITE brighter than bright , as in peace 🕊️.

Though it may not be precisely clear but here comes a verse field of emotion depicting love as I view it …

Love can be crafty,

Love can be sweet,

So is ,Such is , Said of it !

And as is, What is, Sung of it

Blessed ‘re verses which sail on it

For Love—so requited, thrills on it…

Lingering bold, as a warmth in folds,

Showing it’s worth in the winnings of it,

And by all it’s means,

and all by itself —-

Oft bestowing a solace astride,

For every need longing on it

Over fostered fires,

evoking extinct desires

As well —to see, what comes of it

With spirited fervors, inlaid —lovelier,

as spring —forever, basks on it

Yet, we make it sure, to be so assured,

and still wonder—-

What c’d be truly made of it ?!

In hiding more, but feeling more than hunger pure,

than must we speak —bold—of it

For o’er the glints , it glitters in gold,

As sun-dews subtly whisper on it

And to think of an hour,

in that crush of a minute,

who will be it … harboring—still on it ?!

For many a shades, in colors so made

As guilds of golds grace on it

This is how amazing, love can feel

Witnessing it’s woes;

so mended , so blended,

With smoothness so stitched—

As accents to linger deep on it

Not seeing how,

but in the graces so pure

it sews — as a suture,

with all it’s cures,

fixing hurt that’s likely to come by—While despair decides to pass on it

And as is , was as, is the case of it

Neither was it mum nor can it be meek

Forth in wanting,it’s always so sleek

Sometimes bending, all on it’s knees,

and other times falling and howling —head over heels

Oh! But all’s so sweet , it’s just so complete

So be it ! So be it! As we think of it, Becoz, It does it’s all,

in tricks so called;

Befallen for the most part, is the beauty of it !

Love ❤️! 💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫

© February 29th, 2024 by Madhu Goteti

P.S: That was my way of Introducing love —that which has grown in outcome for many many years in my life. Through actions, commitments and excitements —it marked frolicsome feels as if doubling thro’ times tables ( mathematical types 😘,) rounding off , all metrical fields —so aright! And sometimes, it did cut like a knife —much against it’s nature’s mind. That was like days months and years cut short of any sunlight. By and by, as miseries bade a final goodbye —love furnished a warmth —which even any “sweetly errored teas,” c’d never -ever satisfy. Also, love to me is an inevitable burn ,as frenzied as some inordinate pain in the *ss or what might seem like an itch (at times ) in the groin 🤣. But then , marching ahead —steadfast—and by grinding sacks to the mill, it brought me good respite. Yes, love has floundered along those steeplechases so infernal , so internal —raising embarrassments by it’s rides. More so, especially when, it threatened to ride —straight upon those highs. But, by caring nothing , as I lasciviously sang — burn , burn, hide and run ; why have you dared to slay me so sudden ..oh , such coming to me —in —such a condition …Oops! yet perennially like an sporting infection… here and now ..as indistinguishable as ever as an age ole’ collation … arrived?!

But probably —at once —remaining cross eyed in sheerness to survive and as as anything germinate in it’s total perfection —redressed in a timely manner—likewise . Such so beating all springs to buds , gentle and wise in all it’s guise.

Yes, love at times had been that hard —nut cased —behaving itself quieter than quiet … vainly somewhere like all had been said- unsaid as all ended ,within no reason , seemed expired . And old (saged ) as I am today I believe for a fact of it, I have somehow survived with it ( love) as it is —reminiscent in me, thence with you in me —-as in one spirit ….

Love ❤️ now and forever exists in a place where it has managed to carry carings in all heaps. Hurriedly many a times it trenches in some battlefields—but oftentimes, places itself into unknowns —where honeycombs of rich nectar filter into many emotions deep.

And if everything remains as intact as it ever was , as I so speak 🗣️ it —love 🌹❤️🥰 may or might plummet poesy much like this :

And when this swell of the autumnal rose, dries out, lain shriveled, amidst those shriveled trees —

Thereabout, unshaken, a dawn shall rise with it’s pale yawns shields

And overwhelmed—coming so ,moving along , and in all it’s leveled spiels

A sheer evanescence shall get up, dress up, for yet another —naked truth to be reborn in supernal fields

—LOVE ❤️ shining in eternal light 💡! ☺️🙃🙂