Gage is thrown down the colosseum,
And their faith are scrawl with glum,
The innocuous minds of the gladiators,
Were portent of the danger that is about to come.
The swords have the glare of brightness,
The sandals making a distinct thrum,
The armors displaying marks of past jostles,
The eyes have no signs of glum.
We all are like the gladiators,
Fighting our battles every day,
Thrown to the life’s ring,
tasked to fly without wings.
Treasure your scars,
Stand up when you hit the wall,
You are bound to rise,
Don’t let your hopes fall.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
This is fabulous… and powerful ❤️
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Thank you so much, Mahee
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😊🌺
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Beautiful and inspiring! 👏
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Thank you so much
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Powerpacked strong words. Great poem😊
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Thank you so much
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Amazing. Intense and beautiful. 😊
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Thank you so much, Anne
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My pleasure always! 🙂
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😊🌸
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Such great words you used in this poem, great writing! 🙂
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Thank you so much for your kind read
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My pleasure 😊🌸
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Great post and love the picture!
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Thank you so much. The picture is ground zero in NYC
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Nice
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😊🌸
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Lovely and inspiring. 🌸😊
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Holding on to hope.
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True my friend. Thanks for your comment
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This is amazing…
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Thank you so much, Jaya
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This poem is truly magnificent! I love the amphitheater and its gladiators metaphor for overcoming personal battles and treasuring scars they procure.
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Thank you so much for your kind comment, Anastasia. You have a lovely name
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Thank you very much!!
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My pleasure
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Mmmm. This spoke to me on a personal level, friend. Life can be and at it’s core, is, a battle. As you put it, we must treasure that which we take away from it, both from victory and from defeat.
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Thank you so much. I am glad you could connect with my words. 🌸😊
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