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Best Poems Written by Lilia Rose

Below are the all-time best Lilia Rose poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Math In Life

Shapes of the Past.
Numbers of the Present
Variables of the Future.

Shapes are different for every little hand drawing them,
every grown-up touching them.
Sometimes they miss a point,
only later to remember and disappoint,
in finding it too late to mend,
that broken shape.

Numbers are the same every time you see them,
a constant in problems and mazes of wits.
Yet, with 1 careless mistake,
it changes, never to be fixed again,
because you wrote in pen,
with the confidence of a youth, 
the  bane and talent of adolescence.

Variables change every time you try to simplify them.
Yet they never change their appearance,
staying the same throughout.
Until that moment, 
reaching the last step,
they just become additional numbers,
that might be the right or wrong solution,
later confirmed with substitution.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Message For My Mother

Mother, 

when I hear your voice, 

I have this feeling, 

that I'm safe and sound, 

that no one will be able to touch me. 

 

When I feel your presence, 

I know that you will never forget me, 

never leave me. 

 

But if there really is a day, 

that we have to separate paths, 

I wish you the best of luck, 

but I have this feeling that 

you will never truly leave me.

 

Then, 

when I feel your shadow, 

I will feel like a child again, 

feel young and small, 

like a shadow of you, 

just when I feel your shadow. 

 

So I hope you will understand, 

that I love you, 

but I am not a child anymore, 

I have grown up. 

 

So when I spread my wings, 

and fly, 

I hope you will forgive me, 

for not saying good-bye, 

for there is no good-bye to say, 

because you have etched yourself into me.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Friends and Family

Petals of friendship,

Thorns of kinship.



A rose without petals

is a world that never snows,

yet, it’s still the same, a rose.



A rose without thorns

is the moon that has never shone,

fading into the background alone.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Layers of Sound

The ones in rooms of grand seats,
wait for a day to stop and retreats,
their voices are murmurs that flee,
when they see those who are free.
 
Free to smile, free to cry, 
though those who are free, 
do not understand why, 
or what do they have to flee, 
or when do they want to flee. 
 
Society, views, and traditions,
for that is another addition, 
of people and voices that mutter.
They pretend to be butterflies that flutter,
and do things that make us shutter, 
because they are the ones that utter the lies,
because they do not trust, 
yet, they are not unjust or just. 
 
Then, there are those 
who live on the streets 
and have no sheets 
on which they can lie
or anything that they can buy, 
they murmur the lowest, 
not because they are afraid.
 
They are tired, 
tired of this world's gray, 
that only they can see, 
and so they have nothing to say, 
about the limits that trap
us, of what we can be. 
 
Their eyes are clearest, 
yet their voices are the smallest, 
for no one wants to
listen to what is true, 
and no one will ever 
listen to the poorest of the rags
because they have tags, 
that mark them
in this unequal world.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Under the Lights

Bruises under the fading yellow light, 
becoming a frightful sight, 
a boy lingers under that window shade, 
convincing me that he was afraid. 

Who is that boy under the night lights,
in a world empty of colors, empty of white.
Is he, the strong or the weak, 
or someone who is afraid to speak,
or someone who seeks
a way out of this bleak,
gray world full of traps, 
only to receive slaps 
on his cheeks, 
for hoping too much, 
for hoping, for a warm touch,
and his eyes start to leak. 
 
Tears falling under lamp lights, 
under the night light, 
under the moonlight, 
as it always has for everyone hurt 
in this unforgiving world
of illusions, filth, and dirt, 
as it always will, 
glistening under the lights 
because of all the blights 
in this cruel, unfair society, 
trying to suppress variety, 
trying to reshape hills, 
trying to supress our flights, 
and take away our rights, 
and they will never stop,
till death do us apart. 

And we wonder 
about another’s troubles, 
so much that it shatters
their youthful, innocent bubbles, 
and make them leave their battered
homes for a silent place
in this world of filth and grace,
covered in a veil of thin lace, 
leaving without a trace, 
continuing this cycle, once again, 
that’s the nature of men.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Death's Kiss

I wait for the only looming possibility.
We watch as what is ours
fall apart gradually in its hands.

Fading and thinning hair,
weight of memories,
toothless smiles,
increasing wrinkles,
weakened spirits,
I wait, you wait, 
for the impending sign, death.

Smelling of slightly misty rain, 
the breeze of innocence,
we try to resist it,
holding onto that wispy hair of mundane,
until we have no more spark,
and can only linger,
for that is inevitable, 
death.

Slightly cold and wet,
memories slowly disappear,
hair grows luxuriant and rich,
wrinkles are unraveled out,
and it all flourish under its hand,
the hand of an undeniable presence, 
death.

Memories disappear,
pain, joy, sorrow, and life are all drained.
We enjoy a moment's felicity,
full of innocence and awe,
youth's endowment and bane,
as the world changes,
becoming captivating once more,
but only for a moment, a bittersweet moment.

It swiftly dissipates into thin air,
and we fall into a dark pocket of nihility,
we crash into threads of an imminent, death.

Into twilight and isolation,
we can still think and hope,
about that bittersweet flashback,
but that moment's bliss became torture,
because it could never be retained, held onto.

The cost of a bittersweet memory,
was longing and emptiness,
as we ache for the past,
vacant and drained reminders,
and finally, accept the uncertain and certainty,

death.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Father's Kingdom

Heaven is but a hollowed name, 

for father's kingdom is forgiveness, 

a path of righteousness and patience

will not pass away, 

with or without men's knowledge, 

for father never fails. 

 

Heaven is but a hollowed name, 

for father's kingdom is love, 

a path of hope and trust

 will never crease, 

with or without presence of men, 

for our father's house overflows with souls. 

 

Those who dwell, 

dwell freely, 

new beginnings taken 

and given freely, 

to the humble, proud, weary

souls of earth, 

for our father is the debtor who forgives. 

 

With him, 

claws of death walk in shadows of fear, 

presence of evil and temptation 

become quiet waters, 

burdens of souls are simple, 

prophecies are delivered, 

for he is the prophet of his own prophecies

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Music's Love

Listening to the sound of music, 
to the rise and fall of notes. 
Waiting for someone to match your beat. 
Sometimes, it is slower, 
louder, or faster than you. 
The crash of nature, 
the nagging of a mother, 
the patience of a father, 
yelling at your siblings, 
the feeling of missing a home, 
things that capture your attention. 
Understanding, caring, 
because you desire to, 
not because you can. 

Listening to the sound of music, 
to the rise and fall of notes. 
Waiting for someone to harmonize with. 
sometimes you're different, 
sometimes they're different, 
but when you feel that warmth, 
you meet, at an understanding. 
In the end, together, 
you and they harmonize into one song, 
making the world brighter with its noises. 
It may seem, perfect, normal, or weird, 
but it never is. 
For love is never flawless, 
never blind to one's faults. 
For love is never simple or like any other, 
it is unique, each in its own way. 
For love is never awkward, 
it is like the layers of sound in song, 
harmonizing, covering, and pushing 
each other,
each note rising above the next.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

One Last Time

Music flying one last time.

Stop and listen, 

Touch and give, 

focus on being,

                   satisfied, 

                           prepared, 

for one last time. 

 

Distinction and outcomes 

serve the future, 

a lacking stage presence. 

 

Dedicated to new life, 

lifting, sharing the best 

for one last time.

 

Symphonies play forward to other goals 

                                                              for one last time. 

 

Not all will participate, 

                             for one last time. 

 

But you are shining like a winner, 

                                          for one last time. 

 

Planning for a reflection 

                                for one last time.

Details | Lilia Rose Poem

Fragile

We are all built of bubbles, 
fracturing with the slightest touch, 
seeking an escape from our troubles, 
wishing for something real to clutch. 

We are all made of glass, 
broken with a harsh shatter, 
once, only seeing an illusion of class, 
wishing for ourselves to truly matter.  

We are all built of snow, 
melting under the sun’s glare, alone, 
changing paths with a gentle blow, 
wishing, we had a mind of our own. 

Yet, we are also made of light, 
able to give those who are weak, 
strength to see past society’s blights,
and a voice that dares to speak.