I really love this one. It sounds like a circle of life warning. I can't say that I don't understand the rose. I suspect that they would choose to bloom, even if they knew exactly what frostiness the future would bring.
Also, your poem brought to mind a photo and poem I shared on Instagram yesterday (autumn vibes everywhere, it seems): https://www.instagram.com/p/CH3PlEilruG/
Might be. I see autumn and winter as masculine. Well, winter is "Old Man Winter" and "Jack Frost" comes, so that's for sure!
Spring is Easter, and that, of course, is Astarte. Plus, Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem, Spring, ends, "April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers." and I picture a flower festooned woman!
Summer? I'm not sure. As a Leo, albeit a poor one (I hate the limelight, I just like to be right), I still see a male lion, but that's probably just due to images in books etc.
I think the rose knows it's job is to bloom gloriously, then drop its petals for a potpouri to be enjoyed until Spring when it's time to bud once more.
dVerse prompt for Sept. 9, 2024 For your Prosery prompt, I have selected the first line from her (Tina Chang) poem “Love”: “ I am haunted by how much our mothers do not know. ” Write a piece of prosery of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line in the order in which it has been given. You may add or change punctuation, but you may not add or delete words. I purposely did not read the rest of Tina Chang's poem, as to not influence my first thoughts by her words and their meanings. I was recalled back to an overheard conversation between a group of teenage girls, who didn't realize I could hear. They were trying to come up with alternative ways they could have gotten "hickeys," or "love bites," what to tell their parents. I laughed and told them their parents told their parents those exact same things, and no one was fooled! No one would believe they "ran into a door knob," yet that's one that seems to pass through the ge...
I really love this one. It sounds like a circle of life warning. I can't say that I don't understand the rose. I suspect that they would choose to bloom, even if they knew exactly what frostiness the future would bring.
ReplyDeleteAlso, your poem brought to mind a photo and poem I shared on Instagram yesterday (autumn vibes everywhere, it seems): https://www.instagram.com/p/CH3PlEilruG/
Thank you. I do love how you put it there, " fall and spring dancing in circles."
DeletePerhaps if Autumn were a she, not a he .... rose would join the sisterhood and bloom? Cheers.
ReplyDeleteMight be. I see autumn and winter as masculine. Well, winter is "Old Man Winter" and "Jack Frost" comes, so that's for sure!
DeleteSpring is Easter, and that, of course, is Astarte.
Plus, Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem, Spring, ends,
"April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers."
and I picture a flower festooned woman!
Summer? I'm not sure. As a Leo, albeit a poor one (I hate the limelight, I just like to be right), I still see a male lion, but that's probably just due to images in books etc.
Ouch. A short punch of reality. Yet, blooming seems worth it.
ReplyDeleteIt tried, plus it's quite pretty like that.
DeleteHmmm, how thought-provoking. But not to bloom would mean no life at all.
ReplyDeleteVery true.
DeleteA short but a few magnificent moments or the longevity of a prickly pear cactus....Pondering !
ReplyDeleteThat's a lot of ponder! Although cactus have some of the more magnificent flowers there are, so that would confuse things.
DeleteDo what you can when you can. Let the rose bloom to it's hearts content it knows winter is coming.
ReplyDeletePlants and animals other than human do sense the changes. We don't seem to, so should watch them.
DeleteWOW! What lovely words speaking of a profound truth. Sometimes, one needs to accept and just lie low.
ReplyDeleteLoved this. :-)
Thank you so very much.
DeleteI think the rose knows it's job is to bloom gloriously, then drop its petals for a potpouri to be enjoyed until Spring when it's time to bud once more.
ReplyDeleteHa! Great idea!
DeleteAn autumn rose is always a bit of a gamble...
ReplyDeleteIt sure is.
Delete