Posted in Emotions, Poetry

They called her Rose

She picked up her tears

and carried them in a jar

Watched them turn around and around

Waiting until the time was right

to release them into the ground

She let them pour upon the soil

the cracks pleading for moisture

The seed that was sowed

began to unfold

as she lifted herself higher

She picked herself up

Her tears were now buried

They began to do good for another

They had gave her relief

for when she was weak

Now they were for the first mother

A stem a leaf, a flower or two

The tears helped her to grow

for she was now whole

like a flower she’d grown

a beautiful blossoming rose




Hi, my name's Aisha and I am 24 years of age. I'm passionate about writing poetry. Sometimes, I don't know how to convey my thoughts in normal conversation but I can spin off a poem about what I am feeling in 5 minutes. Or less. Writing is my thing. Like it is a lot of people's 'thing' and sometimes the only 'thing' that is a sufficient outlet to stop us all from going crazy. There's a lot of pain and anxiety in my poems, but often relief, which I find hard to convey but manage to slip it in at the end with a reference from the Quran or a hadith. If you feel you recognise this same emotional attachment to words, then feel free to read my blog and do not hesitate to contact me, comment and subscribe! Peace, Aisha -a.K.a-

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