THE ROSEBUSH

THE ROSEBUSH

At the altar of Vesuvius

A rosebush blossoms

In scarlet spun whorls

No dreams, no plans

Not a care in the world

 

Taffetas bloom and wilt
Sapped by solar rays
The flesh of rose petals bleeds
Slashed by the stylus
Of each passing day

In crumpled pink gowns
From dawn till sundown
The roses with the blue hills, flirt
Clouds drunken as men
Feast on the claret hues
of their skirts

Till drained, they fall

Upon their thorny porch 

At dusk to blissfully sprawl

Satin ribbons, in leafy rooms, undone

Floral breath fading

Roses die with abandon

Author's Note

Pic clicked by me, near Mount Vesuvius.
Thank you for your time.

Reviews

[Sameeksha Vadisherla]

What a breathtaking sight of the rosebush for you to witness, they look so healthy. Absolutely loved your poem dear Divya.

'Taffetas bloom and wilt
Sapped by solar rays
The flesh of rose petals bleeds
Slashed by the stylus
Of each passing day'

These beautiful roses bloom under sun's rays only to die at the end of the day. However, it life, and nothing ever lasts forever.
I am in awe with your words, they are heavenly just like your name!
Have a great day dear Divya :)

[DIVYA]

Thank you so much, my dear friend Sameeksha. Your kind words have made my day better. My most heartfelt thanks to you. 🙋‍♀️💕

[Sameeksha Vadisherla]

Its my sincere pleasure, dear Divya. Most welcome :)

[Einstein Noodle]

i enjoyed the trip my friend ... the rose .. the bush .. the thorns .. all adorn so many thoughts and feelings and poetry .. yesterday I was at a place in the forests that displayed a thick branched spread of roses .. the bushes were interwoven and so sturdy ... about and inch in diameter ... reminded me of thorns fit upon my Lord Jesus' head ... only an hour or two ago i was weeding clover out of my little garden and i watched small ants carrying bits and pieces of rose pedals that had flowered and fallen .. i am still captivated by it all Divya ... your poem put an exclaimation point to my experiences just in the last two days .. really like your poem ... it's a beauty!
E.

[Marie]

The imagery in this amazing tribute to roses is absolutely gorgeous! The photograph complements the words so well.
"Clouds drunken as men
Feast on the claret hues
of their skirts".
Breathtaking detail!
You paint such a stunning picture for your reader through your choice of words, that it is almost like being stood next to the roses. I can almost inhale their heavenly scent! So sad when they 'die of abandon'. Their lifetime is so short.
I love this very moving and powerful poem. Words are like toys in your poetic hands. Thank you for sharing, Divya...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

sometimes I wish I could be like this rosebush...not a care in the world.
Your travels produced some beautiful pictures and memories...
"clouds drunken as men" You sure do come up with the most precious lines....so creative....
j.

[DIVYA]

My friend, coming from you, such appreciation humbles me....Thank you... For me, you're the ultimate poet. It's a blessing to be writing in your brilliant presence. ❤️

[Sapphus]

A solid poem after a long time. Quite a change from the usual rants. Nice to see you back D. Where and how have you been?

[DIVYA]

Thank you so much dear Sapphus. Was away traveling and now happy to be back. Yet can't wait to go away again. Wandering alone, unknown is poetry in itself. Many Regards.

[Andra Davis]

Such pretty roses there and a pretty poem too. Live in the now. Not in the ever. 🌹

[DIVYA]

Thank you Andra, for your very kind comments on this poem. Great to see you on this page.

[John the Baptist]

Welcome back, my dear, and I like your new picture. You have given us a meditation on impermanence here, a very pertinent topic in these unpredictable times. The beauty of the various flowers is offset by the fact that they are among the most fragile of nature's creations. The taffetas and roses depicted are both "slashed by the stylus/ of each passing day." And we too, though hardier, will follow the same pattern. Thus we must make hay while the sun yet shines.

[DIVYA]

Good Morning Dear John,
Thank you for the thoughtful words today. Yes, the fading is universal fate and the roses do it with as much joy with which they bloom. We must make hay while the sun shines and make the most of our time under it. ❤️

[emmajoygreen]

I have and love rose trees, bushes, miniature and occasionally a person could hear me talking to them! Wouldn't care if I was overheard, talk to a plant - most. will remain in your space for as long as it can.

Your poem, is superb. It talks in an almost personal way, seeing character, mood and more to each and every one of the roses, especially the one you have used as a friend to your world and is worth more than a few or more blossoms. Plants know when they are loved.

'In crumpled pink gowns
From dawn till sundown
The roses with the blue hills, flirt
Clouds drunken as men
Feast on the claret hues
of their skirts'

Precious words.

[DIVYA]

My dear friend, I knew you'd love this poem, having such a love for gardening and the beauty it brings to your days. Going by your thought that plants know when they're loved, these roses must be blooming knowing how desirable they are and how ardently nature awaits them to bring joy to the weeping earth of today.
Thank you so much for your kind words on this effort of mine. Your support means the world to me.

[Vol]

Divas,
We don’t often think abott the intensity of great beauty… Beauty is meant to be quiet, isn’t it? NO! It is volcanos, hot rays of sun, flying skirts, and rosebuds like scattered drops of blood. Beauty is a powerful kind of venom. IIt will give the gift of death with abandon! Sweet!
Vol

[DIVYA]

Dear Vol,
Indeed, beauty often steals peace. Its intoxication is such. We never wish it to end and yet it does. Why not accept the wilting, the abandonment and the pain of being felled? The roses teach us that.
Thank you so much for such a thoughtful review.

[Betty Hermelee]

We all know that nature has a way of life and death....the rosebush like other magnificent bushes will pass on as others have before her....they even flirt with the blue hills; they are extremely feminine and can have the scent of a woman....and draws those who put their nose to her flesh....when they die, its is usually alone, because they have wilted and no one is there to say goodbye.....wonderful images and soft words just like the skin of the rose.....
Warmly, B

[DIVYA]

Dear Betty,
I love your review! The life of a rose is so akin to that of a beautiful woman. The blooming and then the inevitable wilting and dying. Its a lonely end for most and yet if humans could only accept the inevitability of it all and let go in peace and joy just as the roses do...
Thank you so much for your in-depth and beautiful feedback on this poem. You made my effort so worth it.
Wishing you all wonderful things today.

[Betty Hermelee]

I’m flattered dear Divya….it was my pleasure to read your exceptional poetry….have a sunshine day
Warmly, B

[DIVYA]

💐🙋‍♀️💕.......