This Rose Garden

Gold cherry

By Jane Hyphen

Thu, 27 Jun 2024
  • 1086 reads
13 comments
 

 

You’re so lucky

To be in this rose garden

 

To observe the scale of colours

Draw the octave of scents

Into your lungs

To squeeze the petals hard

Inside the palm of your hand

Warm from the sun

Your sweat fusing with perfume

 

It gets so hot in the rose garden

Fate bulging inside the glossy buds 

Swaddled safely out of sight - until

Green splits to reveal their cast

Nothing can stop them now

Destination beautiful

 

The sun cutting their performance

How soon they turn and wilt

Necks waste thin and droop

As they fall down to decorate

The crumbled earth below

Is this a trick?

As the petals fade away and vanish

 

Off with their heads!

Another matinee surely

Perhaps weaker, not so blousy

They want to go on

But the fresh leaves darken

The residents turn on them

Sickened with black spots

New shoots sucked to threads

 

Until the show is over

Then we see how ugly 

Is a rose without its roses

How hostile are its thorns

That catch and hold you there

The stems quite charmless

Old ones harden and crack

They are nothing but carbon

 

 

Certificate U
Poem

Comments

Submitted by celticman on

Ah, we are carbon creatures, unmaster of the elements. Beauty is as good a destination as any and better than some. Imagine being born a Tory (no don't, it may scar you). 

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Don't worry celticman, they're not coming back. Carbon creatures with carbon footprints, different versions of the same stuff. It just gets more and more confusing.Thank you for reading.

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

But the stems are worthy to hold up those flowers, and not take the praise from them! I like the 'octave' of scents and 'scale' of  colours. In the spring as we drive around I love the vista of so many different shades of green, many so fresh when first emerging! rhiannon

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

That's true Rhiannon. The green shades are proven to have a restorative effect on our mental health. In spring time especially, the foliage looks so fresh and healthy. Green spaces for all is my mantra. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts.

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

Loved this :0)
These lines particularly :

"Fate bulging inside the glossy buds

Swaddled safely out of sight - until

Green splits to reveal their cast

Nothing can stop them now

Destination beautiful"

I guess this is hybrid Teas or modern varieties? They do look a bit harsh when not flowering, though my old varieties have dignity all year round, their shapes graceful. Ones in parks and prinked gardens can seem a tragic, existing only for their performance

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Thank you for your comment, Di. I think some of the modern varieties, as you say, have such weak and bendy stem, they fall flat from the weight of their blooms. I love that your varieties have dignity all year, we can all learn from this. Roses remind me of that person who is absolutely charming about a third of the time but more often cold and barbed.

 

Submitted by marandina on

Really like "..octave of scents.." A fusion of senses - musical/hearing and smell.

And that's a great last line:

"They are nothing but carbon"

A thoughtful reverie of the beauty and beast of roses. Whole thing feels like a metaphor.

Intriguing and beautiful

 

[Should that say "Inside you're the palm of your hand"?]

 

 

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Thank you for the edit Paul. The whole thing is part metaphor, for living, the beauty, the best bits, they're fleeting and people will draw your energy, the rest of the time it's okay to be plain ugly but tough and protect yourself. 

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Hi Jane,

your poem brings back memories of my mum back in the 1960s, especially in the lines:-

You're so lucky

To observe the scale of colours

Draw the octave of scents

into your lungs

To squeeze the petals hard

Inside the palm of your hand

Warm from the sun

Your sweat fusing with perfume

 

My late mum adored her roses and would spend hours pruning and caring for them. They were originals too and had the most gorgeous scent. 

It's sad these days when roses have no perfume and like you say, when the stems can't support the flower and they droop as if given up before they even get going. 

I don't get to visit rose gardens anymore, but my mum would get very excited at bringing home a new perfumed rose and watching it grow.

So many memories. Thank you for reminding me Jane.

Jenny.

 

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Thank you for your lovely comment Jenny. My dad too, had a lot of roses and involved me in their care. I look after a rose garden as part of my job now. It has a power all of its own. I can see why people like you mum can get so involved, obsessed even.  

 

Submitted by airyfairy on

Very beautiful, and so cleverly written. Thank you for this one, Jane.

Submitted by airyfairy on

This clever and mesmerising poem is our Facebook and X Pick of the Day! Please do share if you enjoy it too.

Cover image by Li Qun, free to use at Wikimedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%22Rose%22_by_Li_Qun_1999.jpg

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Thank you for pick of the day airyfairy x