A Nettle Amongst The Thorns
I Grow where ever I want to, sometimes out of control
A Nettle Amongst The Thorns
Just a Nettle Amongst the Thorns
I never asked to stand out here,
among the bloom and bite.
Not rose, not bramble, not admired,
just trying not to fight.
The wind treats all the same, I guess,
the rain is just as cruel.
But roses get the praise and poems,
and I am called a fool.
They clutch their cuts and cry my name,
though I was barely brushed.
While every thorn gets kissed and kept,
and I am simply hushed.
I grow where others dare not go,
I sting, but still I stay.
Just a nettle amongst the thorns,
that no one clears away.
I wasn’t meant for beauty’s game,
nor bred for soft applause.
I rise without a single bloom,
and still defy their laws.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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My New Book is Finally Here
My poetry collection Beautiful and Brutal Things is done. It's actually done and finally published over 270 pages. Over a year of my life went into this book. More than a year, really. Long days at my computer, sometimes seven days a week because I couldn't stop even when I probably should have. Then two months of editing that felt harder than the writing itself. But it's finished, and I'm still standing, and the book is real.
By Tim Carmichael5 days ago in BookClub
Comments (3)
Luckily, foragers eat them as pesto.
Sometimes the weeds are prettier than the flower. Take Queen Anne's Lace and clover and Crown vetch all that grows along a highway where I grew up. Good job.
Interesting and well written.