We taped it back on the red rose tree
(a timeline)
by jsenn
Yesterday or maybe it was in 1941
right before Pearl Harbor was bombed
tears mixed with laughter, anger within
peace, water from the sea poured over me
A snow ball was thrown. Daddy and me
riding the snowsled, downhill with glee.
I picked a rose. We taped it back
on the red rose tree.
The sound of gravel road sparkled
blinding in the sun, wind and sand
and angel wings grew fireflys at
day's done. Big city lights, in neon
thrilled my sight. I read the sisters.
Metallic skates flew sparks on concrete.
Walking. Large black cars. City streets.
Eyes fixed on the ground.
(I wore my coat one summer)
you don't see me, you can't see me
and you can't hear my silent sound...
I dreamed I saw a rose taped to the red
rose tree, and in my stomach grew a thorn
to be the death of me.
He walked up to the door. This boy had come
for me. Protection, loved more than any
innocense of two made 3, then 4 and 5 and
finally 6 there was no time, no time at all
small wounds only did we fix.
thorn scratchs my surface
(putrid treasure coveted)
One day in Bullhead.
Arizona to be exact, my baby sister
(female age: 47) lay on the riverbank.
Her brains and blood fed the earth
she wasn't ever coming back.
The red rose tree wept with me, silently
entwining tendrils, stricturing me
transparently, then bloomed within her
folded hands one red rose (dear God) I wish
I'd taped on the red rose tree.
Art discovered!
Sovereign!
Art & poetry and people, souls ARE
capable of love! A higher intimacy!
No touch somehow means love's increase.
Words flew in mighty storms, thrills
in new found freedom the door opened
(pain) in my stomach, and out protruded
the giant thorn. But it was locked away
lost it with my old skate key, this
never was to be. I looked for hands to grab.
Please!
dot dot dot
dot dot dot (ellipses)
...writing
...
...hearing
...listening
...
...soothing
...hands
...lifted
...me
...
...thorn
...freed
...together
...
...you and me
...
...you and me
...
we taped it back
on the red rose tree!
Joy Senn
8-11-2001
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©2001-2009 °jsenn
Author's Comments
.
As you can see, this was written in August. I don't suppose there is a best time to post a poem like this. It is a selective time line from important pieces of my life; less important because the issues have been for the most part resolved, more important because it is you, your love, even when you did not know my plight, your concern, your compassion and care that brought me through. I carried it long, thought I would surely die within it. Because of you it is past, so why must I say it again? Because I have no other thing to give...because cupped in my hands is nothing, except me. Please don't tire of the thanks I must give to you for setting me free. . Daily DeviationGiven 2001-10-22The Red Rose Tree by jsenn moves the reader through a sea of emotion. The poem whispers of “tears mixed with laughter, anger within” and “Fireflys at days done”. Roses and a thorn make an elegant metaphor within this truly astounding piece. Atmosphere is thick and mood palpable. You must read this work as it represents incredible heart. Selected by faithwalker. (Featured by ^devart) |
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October 18, 2001
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Comments
Great job. I love your poetry.
mrrrow.
on the red rose tree"
we giggled like children
laughing with glee
for life is too precious
to linger on misery.
*hugs* This is a beautiful piece Joy.
Tiff.
.:they call me woozie:.
-or little smiling troll!-
I am stunned by this piece. I don't want to write anymore about it because I don't want to dilute it.
Faithwalker
[NOTE--this is all only MY opinion]
Here lies the makings of a masterpiece.
"One day in Bullhead..."
...the smell of crisp snow and frosted breath, somewhere the loss of one kindred sibling all the while struggling with Grace and Remembrance: holding on to dearness and dearest. the metaphors while being personal, are allowed interpretation if one decides to look close enough...
[this poem/prose also makes me reflect on my own fragile trajectory...]
thanks for taping it back
on the red rose tree! peace joy.
amazing
that is all
.:spunj13:.
editor, asylumpublications
http://ionscribe.rmes.andrews.edu/~cmalo ney
more poetry:
http://spunj13.deviantart.com/gallery
.:happiness is a mask we wear to hide our fear:.
All that had happened to me to that point began then to demand the attention of my psyche......to envelope me, because she was alone, and that devastated me, and I almost 'the rose tree said it' deserved whatever I felt from that day forward because she had suffered and died alone.
I think I do understand what you are saying because when I wrote this it seems right, when I posted it I noticed the end seemed now to be anticlimactic and unrelated, because in a sense her death was not related to the thorn born the summer of the coat. I posted it because I thought...this is the time line, the sequence, I wanted myself to have died in her place, yet my life continued, the thorn grew larger because of it and it seems I had to show you that I had been rescued. Does that make sense?
... No, now that I have said that I think I understand even more what you mean, because her death was intrinsic somehow to the emotion of my being but unrelated to the thorn. Two separate events, two separate rose trees, two separate thorns. I think perhaps I wished from that moment that I'd done more, or been able to save her, that maybe it happened because of my own insecurity, a ludicrous thought, but natural for a woman who had not dealt with her own personal guilt and shame.......it flowed into the discovery of a people who could help......but yes the two were unrelated in a flattened sense, I see that now.
Thank you, paddymick. I think I mixed the tragedy's together trying to cover the horror as if somehow they hinged together and were actually from me when in actuality we were each victims of separate occurrences and the rose tree, in me, had embraced and represented them both. I see that now.
:meglocrush: http://meglocrush.deviantart.com
(im not as eem as you think i am)
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