A Withered Rose Life Is - By Senandee Jayalath

Written By: Senandee Jayalath

Category: Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Senandee Jayalath presents "A Withered Rose Life Is," a poignant entry in the Poetry category for the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This evocative piece takes readers on a journey through the quiet, reflective moments of life, exploring themes of solitude, nature, and the inexorable passage of time. With a depth of emotion and rich imagery, Jayalath crafts a narrative that resonates with readers, inviting them to ponder the beauty and melancholy of life's transient nature.

About the Work

In "A Withered Rose Life Is," Senandee Jayalath masterfully weaves a tapestry of vivid imagery and contemplative musings. The poem evokes a serene yet haunting atmosphere, exploring themes of life and death through the metaphor of a withered rose. With its lyrical style and melancholic tone, the piece invites readers to reflect on the fleeting moments of beauty and the inevitable embrace of the unknown.

A Withered Rose Life is

Original Submission by Senandee Jayalath

A Withered Rose Life Is

In the depths of the night,

The pale moon's glow cast its light,

Over empty streets where shadows play,

Beside their tombs till break of day.

The bitter cold wind whispered his song,

A tune that belongs to me,

He spoke of travels far and wide,

Across the high peaks and vast stretches of blue,

Where he shed a tear over the barren plains.

The stars above blinked like precious stones,

Tempting the eye of a lonely,

They shared secrets with,

The Lord who spins alone in the abyss.

The owls conversed with the howling wind,

Carrying their hoots for the ancient trees,

Making them sway their decors of green,

In replies of delight and glee.

The waves of the sea, slow and steady,

Rolled back and forth in their cradle of stillness,

Humming ancient hums of doom,

Beating their drums of stone.

Beneath a broken amber glow,

Of a solitary street lamp,

I stood alone, clutching a half-burnt candle,

And a withered rose in my hand,

Its last petal battling the winds,

Like a soldier in a war.

The bustling eyes moved back and forth,

From the face of the ticking hands

To the deserted, misty streets,

In this infinite abyss of the night's beauty,

Impatiently counting the passing hours,

As the shadows danced and the city slumbered.

The towering clock of the city struck two,

And my candle took one last sigh of farewell,

Now all that shone upon me was,

The abandoned light of the moon

As I stood, rigidly gazing at the

Idle waves of the sea.

My vision became hazy,

The sound muffled,

The mourning wind silenced

And the booming drums of stone unheard.

Unveiling my blinded sight, I saw

A pit of dreary black with

Neither moonlight nor starlight.

I saw a distant light,

Is it approaching me?

Or is it marching away?

Is it moving fast or slow?

Questions filled my mind,

Yet my body refused to move,

For a brighter spot, for now, it's all gone.

The silhouette moved,

His steps made the fallen leaves wither,

And the dancing shadows to bow their boneless necks.

Under the moon's soft glow,

He whispered secrets that only he knew,

And raised a finger from under

His cloak of ebony black

That guided lost souls to unknown realms.

I sensed a tear kiss my cheek,

As I gazed upon the black-coated figure,

His hand reached out to sweep away

The rolling tear.

Oh! How cold his embrace was,

For one with a blazing heart.

He bore no face,

For within his cloak, I saw a black void,

Yet his presence I felt dearly.

"Who are you?" I asked

To which he replied,

"One thou shall hate till,

Thou live under the deception of

My dearest brother, Life."

The withered petal of my rose

Now fell onto his feet,

His graceful fingers picked it up and

He put his hand out

For me, who had its remaining dead half,

Carefully he weaved the final threads of my rose,

To let it dance beyond our mortal realm.

Five minutes to two-thirty,

All the silent souls gathered around,

Their Lord who unveiled the beauty,

Of life's final hour.

The Lord cloaked in black,

Rekindled a fire in my dead candle,

And relit the amber broken bulb,

Before he went back into the misty empty streets

Where none but the dead roamed.

Fear not the gentle touch,

The cloak of ebony black,

For behind is an angel who gives life to the death,

To wander in realms that life could never present.

-P.K. Senandee Thisansa Jayalath

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, is a prestigious platform celebrating the art of written expression. This competition welcomes participants from around the world to showcase their talents across various categories, including poetry, short stories, and essays. It serves as a beacon for aspiring writers to share their unique voices and creative visions on a global stage.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Senandee Jayalath for sharing "A Withered Rose Life Is" with the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your eloquent portrayal of life's delicate balance between beauty and decay offers profound insight and inspiration. We appreciate your contribution and look forward to witnessing your continued journey in the literary arts.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.