I have memories I can’t fit into rhyme
of twenty summers lived by a rose-garden
through which my York-stone-flagged path was arrow-straight
to the outside world
and through the warm months to the dying autumn
I set my eyes only on the wicket gate
blind to the seductive symphony of hue
and riot of scent
No fool for roses I lived for house and road
despite the breeze-tossed flitting of butterflies
and in stubborn ignorance of bees buzzing
a sudden wing-kiss
I could have stopped and looked and gaped with wonder
and stepped aside to inebriate myself
captivated by a thousand heady scents
each crying for love
I could have stroked a leaf or kissed a petal
echoing with song its dance against my lips
or with sighs the way it yielded to my tongue
like the lust of youth
But I walked on with a heart full of winter
and a head held dead-straight by my own folly
until someone brought in a rose to lay down
upon my white bed
I saw its blush and held it in my fingers
pressed it to my face and watered it with tears
for how sharply behind forgotten beauty
hides the bitter thorn
Author notes
Back to my old "loose Sapphic" style of poetry for this one. Written in response to a request to write about a particular event in my life.
In a list
Comments
1 - 28 of 28
-
Ah, so no rhyme in your example here? Still absolutely beautiful! I really loved the expressions throughout!
Thanks for the advice
Tough Cookie
-
-
No indeed, it is an unrhymed form. In the style I use, the line length dictates the sense and structure of each phrase; the third line of each stanza flows into the fourth, but sometimes each can stand alone. It seems to lend itself to love poetry.
-
-
Lovely as always... It has been a long time since I have read your writing and I forgot how beautifully you create images to touch my soul. Bittersweet and beautiful
-
-
Thank you for the lovely comment, Sis. This is my "coming out" poem in a way. It describes a moment which changed my life, anyhow.
-
-
Roses are a kind of mystery to me, because they hide their thorns with their beauty. This is a lovely poem and I especially like the last verse. Well done.
-
-
Thank you, wise one.
-
-
Had to come and read the original from which the rewrite came from. A lovely poem indeed - we oft are too busy to stop and smell the roses - sometimes wtih good reason, it seems!
-
-
Thanks, grannyeri. I love what Bazza did with this. It was an honour.
-
-
I must say...
That always being one that was th opposite... enjoying the beauty and joy of nature, sometimes over that of humans, you have accomplished a good writer's goal: you let me FEEL the POV of someone in a place I had not been through myself... Good Write !!
-
-
Thank you Peg - that I regard as being the 'metier' of a writer, and I am glad to have achieved it.
-
-
Very beautifully written, I enjoyed this version as well as Bazza's, very much. Sweet and sad together, parralells life a bit, I think.
-
-
Exactly! It exactly parallels mine.
-
-
exquisite
Dear Mairi,
Your poem is as beautiful as I knew it would be.
Both poems are spectacular and I thank you for showing it to me.
Jen
-
-
I'm glad you liked it, and Bazza's version too
-
-
incredible
this poem is wonderful, mairi! we all need to hear a message like the one that this poem tells, cos i know that i, for one, have been guilty of not really appreciating the beauty of something when it was right in front of me.
great write!
-
-
Thanks for the "incredible" M.A. In my case it was a neglected part of myself, which a chance encounter with someone as beautiful as a rose brought to the fore again... but the encounter brought me in touch with all the pain I thought I would never feel again. I am glad you liked the poem.
-
-
The poet wanderer is always good muse...
Darling mb dm
Drunken only twice before
God I scream curse
falling forward I implore
lost to tender verse.
Beauty I sense without
it escapes my clasp
despite my hollow shouts
fading from my grasp.
Smoosh
Janet
-
-
Darling dreamkid... thank you for visiting my rose garden.
Smoosh
Marie
-
-
Lovely and sweetly passionate
The metaphors pour forth like a fresh spring and the reader drinks with pleasure.
I shall love posting this wonderful poem on The Planet! 
-
-
Oh wow! Thank you!
-
-
Beautiful piece with its unique, non-rhyming meter! I thought it exquisite with all its imagery and loved the ending. All my best, ♥ Belle
-
-
Thank you, Belle. I haven't been writing much lately, but I returned to this very loose form in order to let something flow.
-
-
fine
a lovely poem, indeed, and somehow unutterably sad at the same time...fine, fine...
-
-
Thank you, Michael. It describes a very poignant episode.
-
-
Beautifully penned.
Beautifully written that squeezes the last tears of sentiment and reminiscences that leaves a feeling of remorse but peace at last .
-
-
Bless you Bazza. Thanks.
-
-
Mairi, I haven't been reading you long enough to recognize this as an old style of yours, to me, its
new and fresh and fine as those roses you so introspectively talk about. I believe we've all passed
beauty by much to often, while we've held our head low following our own paths. I've learned that with age
comes appreciation. Absolutely Stunning, but then like
I've said many times,I expect no less from you. lapoe.
-
-
Thanks 'Poe. I used to write a lot in this 11-11-11-5 style, almost exclusively, in fact. This poem is a metaphor, from beginning to end... all to do with my having suppressed a part of who I am for a long time. Someone, in whom I had confided the story, suggested I should turn it into a poem.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 28 of 28
