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Today I adorned my bed with sheets of roses,
patterned everywhere with their unfurling petals
of blue, cerise and pink.
Roses, with their heady or delicate or spicy fragrance,
will invade my dreams as I lie,
crushing them beneath my nakedness.
When I toss restlessly their satin softness
will caress my skin with sweet rememb’rings
of long-dead love.
Or will that be?
Will I feel only the sharp stabbing of their thorns,
the leathery scrape of saw-toothed leaves?

And isn’t that like life –
when we look back on love,
do we remember sweetspiced softness,
or do we know again the pricking
of the bruising hurts that so indelibly
imprint our hearts?
Is it the words, all honeyed sweetness, we recall,
or the harsh volleys of denial, disavowal?

It is no wonder that the color called
ashes of roses
is what it is;
for when I look back on love,
I see its muddied shade
defiling that once-clear and constant crimson.

© 2012 RC deWinter

Hear me read this poem.


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Roses as a metaphor for love and remembrance.

*I have been a photographer for over 25 years, using both traditional and digital SLR equipment, with pictures published in print as well as in online publications and galleries. If you enjoy my work, please spread the word, and thank you for stopping by.

PLEASE DO NOT CLICK ON THE BANNER LINKS AT THE TOP OF THIS PAGE. REDBUBBLE WILL DIRECT YOU AWAY FROM MY PORTFOLIO TO THEIR GENERIC PAGES OF WORK IN THOSE CATEGORIES.*

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Comments

  • JRGarland
    JRGarlandover 2 years ago

    Awesome!!

  • Merci!

    – RC deWinter

  • uncleblack
    uncleblackover 2 years ago

    lovely work..

  • Thanks so much.

    – RC deWinter

  • Nicla Rossini
    Nicla Rossiniover 2 years ago


    July 30th 2012 Congratulations! Your work is featured in the group We Sell it FAST!

  • Honored, thank you, Nicla.

    – RC deWinter

  • msdebbie
    msdebbieover 2 years ago

  • Honored, Debbie, and much appreciated, many thanks.

    – RC deWinter

  • RosaCobos
    RosaCobosover 2 years ago

    Oh..that remembrance. May be they stings…the words, and may be they cut, the absences of love..may be we are frantically looking for sensual closeness to our rememberings, thinking that as the brain remembers the taste of honey justnin the tip of the tongue, our soul can remember what love means for us. But you see..honey, being sweet and desireing as it is can give acid stomach, and we have stomack acke when eating too much, but we still wish to eat once more and for ever. Your poem is sensually open, and it has some bitterness in its contain, but bitter-sweet is my favourite tasting. It is somehow contrasted, dual, but with a complete structure of Soul. I love your poem ..is also a complete structure of Soul.
    Rosa

  • Yes, love is in my experience always bittersweet, sometimes cloying if the sweet becomes out of balance; then again, sometimes the sweet is subsumed in the ashes of bitterness in memory. Thank you, I was actually doing as I wrote in the poem, Rosa – making my bed with rose-patterned sheets when the words began to assemble in my head and I had to stop what I was doing and start writing.

    – RC deWinter

  • RosaCobos
    RosaCobosover 2 years ago

    That´s fantastic…objects are no without soul, they are alive…and image as we do, in dreams of Reality.
    Rosa

  • Indeed, I lean toward pantheism. TY again.

    – RC deWinter

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