In This I Find You Again
If there is truth to be found
let someone find it. The yellow
rose rests in its jar. Day and
night it looks out through the glass
at the world of altered
lines, sensing, perhaps, beauty
through its failure to prevent
fading. Each morning I wake
and think of you. The hibiscus
on our patio readies itself to blossom,
but pauses as if to prolong
the moment, waiting for a reason
to end its denial. Then it unfolds.
You are all I care to find.
* * *
Written in the 80s, this last appeared here in December 2016.
Nice piece.
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Thanks very much!
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Would you like to share your content on our open blogging social website and get your blog to reach more people?
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Thank you for asking, but I will pass on your kind offer.
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Beautiful
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You are very kind. Thank you.
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Love the poignancy of this poem, the juxtaposition of the aging, fading rose with the blooming of the hibiscus. Well wrought, younger Bob! You’re going to be pleased with near-60 Bob. 🙂
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Near-60 Bob would change a lot in this poem, but he considers it an artifact of that period and has chosen to let it exist as is.
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Near-60 Bob is wise, as is proper. This piece speaks to me deeply. Thank you for sharing it with us. I feel, at 46, at times like the rose watching the world from her aged vantage point, and other times like the new-blossomed hibiscus. And while I will never find a human to long for that way (it’s true, and arguing won’t change it *smiles*), I did spend 3.5 decades longing for a spiritual idea in a similar but different way. That whole era of longing felt to me much the way this poem of yours makes me feel. Perhaps that makes no sense. And that’s ok. ~Odd Bean Toad, signing off for the day!
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That this poem resonates in such a way for you is all I could hope for. Thank you.
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Sublime. Almost certainly the best few minutes of the day so far, reading this.
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Thank you, Robert!
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A great write, indeed!!
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Thank you!
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Still lovely.
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Thank you, Leslie!
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Stunning, Robert. You made me pause for a few moments of peace in my hectic morning schedule where nothing existed outside your words. A rare gift.
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Thank you, Ryan. You’ve made my day!
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Heart full 🌱 I love the last line, such a poignant expression of your love.
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Thank you!
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Simply beautiful!
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You are always so kind, Linda. Thank you.
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♡♡♡
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A poem written in the 80’s, however your words ageless, and still so poignant today.
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Thanks, Ivor. It aged better than most of my 80s pieces. A lot of it was not worth keeping.
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I understand, I read some of mine from 20 years ago, hmmm,….not good…..
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Funny how that is. 🙂
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‘the world of altered lines’ – such a pivotal image
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Thank you, Derrick. I think we all see through altered lines of some sort.
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Quite – and you have portrayed it from the viewpoint of a rose inside a glass jar
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If we only knew what else that rose has seen!
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I love the yellow rose
that rests imprisoned
living in a glass jar
and wondered if this
was the only solution
to prevent its fading.
If someone would come
and steal all its petals
as our freedom is now
kept in a similar jar.
Altered world and reason
I want out of that prison,
I felt the rose would tell.
And then felt the hibiscus
as lovely as the one
I saw in the garden of hope.
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What a lovely response! Thank you.
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My pleasure.
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