As I've witnessed for myself
kin who are called
to the underside of the wild roses
are those
who are missed
by loved one's
already there.
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Author:
Teddy.15 (
Offline) - Published: February 21st, 2024 10:56
- Comment from author about the poem: on some very deep reflection.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet
Offline)
Comments9
only with the aid of much smoke and a correctly angled mirror did everything clear and allow me to see the beauty contained herein .. 🌹🌹
Awe thank you my sweet Nev, I was hoping not to frighten some, I so appreciate your words dear friend. 🌹
Wow!!! Stunningly powerful.
Thank you dear Thomas, I truly appreciate that you have noticed the possibility of it's beauty. 🌹
My comments on the poem "From where the wild roses grow” by Teddy.15
--The title “…wild roses…” The roses are wild ones, not ones planted and tended by people. It’s often a lonely life while alive; it is certainly lonely in the grave. Few graves are tended. By and large, flowers grow wild there.
--The poet has noticed something terrific, striking : those newly entering the grave are in fact called in by those already there. The departed need company. They call forth the ones still alive out there. It is a call that can be resisted for some time or even for a long time. But, finally, the moment arrives.
--“…the underside of roses…” : the view from under the roses. The view is not only that of the soil but of the departed sleeping down there. The call is a silent one. It is never heard but it sure takes effect when the time comes.
--“…missed by those already there…” : a very poetic turn of phrase, words as only a genuine poet comes up with. The departed, living in eternal peace, want company. They call the ones still scraping along over ground. They want some reunion, which takes place finally.
About life and death in general, we can quote from my poem “The gravedigger” written on 13 July, 1995 :
“Down to their last breath, the living maul each other :
Yonder, the ashes of the dead mingle and swirl together.
Some final speech at the funeral, by the graveside :
'Tis enough to wipe the slate clean, on each side.
Down to their very bones, the living spurn one another :
Yonder, the bones of the dead silently rub and rot together.
The creepy crawlies vulgarly do we swat off the living :
Now, with pleasure, at leisure, on the dead be they dining….”
“Yonder, the ashes of the dead mingle and swirl together….” : at an open air crematorium, where wood is used, some ashes remain and get mixed up with the ashes of the next cremation….
“…wipe the slate clean…” : the ones making the funeral speeches might have fought with the person who just died.
“…silent rub and rot together…” the bones of the newly-buried and the ones already there.
Soman Ragavan. 22 February, 2024.
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Thank you very much Sir. 🌹
A wee bit enigmatic, this one if I may say so, Teddy.
If there's a call, then I'm not listening. I shall go in my own sweet time.
But the combination of visual (you have a way of always finding some great pics) and some words which group in great order, work well together even if..........
On second thoughts, "kin" are not called but are the ones motivated to go.
I shouldn't state it like that, but somehow had to apologise for my initial lack of understanding.
Now delete this all and let others....
Thank you Dave, you may interpret how you wish a poem, I'd like to see the beauty in the fact that in the end we have no choice and we will be called by those in which we have loved. ❤️
A reflective and thought-provoking poem, Teddy. Really well done.
Thank you dear Tom, so very kind of you. 🌹
Such emotive words Teddy.
Andy
Thank you so much dear Andy 🌹
If I could be but a rose at the side of my parents, I shall bloom every day and rest peacefully at night. (inspired by you Teddy 😉)
I've edited this just a touch so thank you dearest A.P I wish that none of us were ever frightened of the inevitable but in truth even I myself am. ❤️+ 🌹
Death is only physical Teddy, your soul and spirit will survive. 🌹
Loaded with meaning and poetic mastery... A heavy piece, delivered just right!
Awe thank you so much dear Garth, heavy yes so I am truly grateful for your beautiful words. Thank you so much. 🌹
How did I miss gem? There is just enough mystery and puzzle in these lines to grip the attention of the reader and bury him in that soil beneath the roses. This is one of my favorites of yours
Wow thank you so much dear sorrenbarret, I'm truly humbled my dear friend. 🌹
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