Rose
I scribble on the paper
A flower
Whose edges are sharp
Whose colour has eroded
Whose texture has turned into brown mulch
All but disappeared in the wind and rain
Immobile
No longer looking up
The proximity of bodies
Grows closer
The closeness to my head recedes
Lost in pockets and benches
Lost in me
Taken up by the potion
Drink me Drink me
Living well is the best revenge
I write it on the paper
Next to the flower
The rose
A scribble
The ink around its petals dry up like congealed blood
Wasted time like rings on the bottom of a tree which falls
Unheard
No way through the tunnels
No way to retribution
For the sun that failed to shine on the rose
For the water which was meant to fill her heart
For the hand that was meant to stretch her upwards
Retribution has forced my hands to dig
To bury
A body which no longer exists
A head which is lost
This is the edge of existence
There are no soft round hopes of sun or warmth
These are the edges of rose
I feel them every time my hand reaches into the bush
Bone cold fingers on the grains that keep me warm.
24 comments:
I have a poet friend who calls this 'pointy love'
Good phrase..like it..pointedly yours..Jae
Very touching and beautiful... what an ending!
Hoping for sun and water and a loving hand for this rose! Yes, there are points for protection, but there is such beauty there....
The edge of the rose, the edge of the world, everything on the edge is sharper and clearer, and unique. No where else, is it so. I love your write!
And without the sharpness of thorns to protect it, there would never be a Rose. Lovely imagery Jae. Truly.
,,,reach...
My favorite line? "Living well is the best revenge" It is my favorite because I adopted this attitude when very young, having grown up in an abusive and often violent household. It is also my favorite because it is true. Living well is all it's cracked up to be!
Well you certainly are not "wasting time" when you continue to write such piercing poetry as this. I like to think that every poem you write is another dragon slayed so that you can be free from their threat. Those grains that keep you warm are going to spring into a new and beautiful life.
Retribution isn't worth it, just the joy of what little warmth can be found around "drink me drink me".
I feel as if to be holding a rose that
is slowly evaporating leaving her scent
and beautiful blood red drops from a hoped for life... that is waiting in the spiritual.
O. a humble offering for you at crinkleddress.
It was like sitting on the edge and reading Jae.. very deep and .. what's that burying a body that no longer exists...a lovely line..that makes one stop and think..
There is no way through to retribution because it accomplishes nothing. At the edges is where things happen and yes, living well will be the very best revenge.
Very moving piece today, I was immediately drawn into it.
Joe, I had to reread before realizing this was in answer to the 3WW prompt, which is good. I was mesmerized by the whole account. Ink soaking into petals like dried blood, the outstanding phrase! Peace, Amy
beautiful imagery and deep sadness - I want to know what happened to the rose and to reach in and try to rescue her - and involving poem.
lots to like here...thanks for sharing your words
Thank you all..sorry have no kept up with replies and reading..most thankfully to you..Jae
'Wasted time, like rings on the bottom of a tree that falls unheard' - remarkable imagery, and so true, with each ring representing a now meaningless year. Deep meanings, so wonderfully written.
a rose entwined
http://iphigen.deviantart.com/art/090311-200531956
Thank you Altonian and Lucy x
Love ya girl. It is surprising how tough roses are. You would think that such a beautiful flower would be delicate. I have seen rosebushes that seemed to be nothing but scaly gnarled bark, twisted and almost ugly from years of neglect, that once cared for, a little pruning, a little nurturing, came back to bloom with glorious beauty.
Thank you Dee.. x
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