A Rose Four Hundred Miles Away

[Revolte]

I painted my walls in memories
from ages long ago,
where I was broke and happy
strong and not afraid.
Sure I was lonely in dreams
but I awoke to somebody,
if not somebody then something
but, now the paintings melt
the pictures drip and dry
-like waterfalls from my past-
and I hear one noise, one sound,
the constant rhythm behind every guitar,
every bass, banjo and harp.
Silence, dead, useless, faithful silence
and now, all I see, is regret.
The memories are filled with confusion
sadness, lost loves and glasses of whine
but somewhere, four hundred miles away
is a rose, a rose growing in concrete
and that rose keeps me company
keeps me alive, keeps me happy
and paints new memories,
better memories, truer memories.

[hillwalker]

This is a deep one - and that phrase 'glasses of whine' is no typo, I trust.

Line 7 is a bit of a stumbling block - I'm not sure if you are the something you woke up to, or if it was some material memory you had in mind that has become a substitute for someone who used to be part of your life.

Very thought-provoking.

H

[Bar22do]

An interesting one, promoting optimism... well crafted, Revolte! Bar

[Hawkman]

A rather mournful poem until the end, Revolte. My your rose inspire you, whether 400 miles away or next door. Nurture it and it will grow in compost or in concrete.

Live and be well - H

[Revolte]

A rather mournful poem until the end, Revolte. My your rose inspire you, whether 400 miles away or next door. Nurture it and it will grow in compost or in concrete.

Live and be well - H

:) the rose does inspire me, it's actually a friend of mine in vegas who has managed to take all my depression and all my loniness and turn it into something beautiful, just by talking to me, which considering the distance I find amazing.

and thank you everyone, its been a bit of a step writing poetry again, ive been stuck on doing lyrics for my folk stuff but im just now getting back into writing poetry.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I, too, salute that rose - whether a literal flower or a true friend so far away - and yet so near.

[Pensive]

Beautifully sad poem with an optimistic touch!

My favourite lines:


the constant rhythm behind every guitar,
every bass, banjo and harp.


The memories are filled with confusion
sadness, lost loves and glasses of whine

Like hillwalker I hope it's no typo either because the phrase is just so appropriately fitted here!

[dafydd manton]

Coruscating!

[hack]

This makes me think of The Orb's opening of Star 6 & 7 8 9, from Adventures Beyond the Ultraworld : "The flower blossoms through what seems to be a concrete surface". Memories, regrets, lost loves, simpler times, all delusions. What is Vegas for (or vegas, for that matter), if not a place to gather sustenance and find a way to push on toward other, greener, meadows...peace...

[Revolte]

thank you again everyone for the kind words :) I'm glad this is liked, and hack, thats a hell of a point I didnt think of.

[qimissung]

I like the *painting the walls" metaphor and the sound that is silence~nicely paradoxical, and then you gently lead us away from the pain to the possibility of hope. Good one, Revolte.

[blank|verse]

Good stuff, Revolte. Reminds me strongly of Wordsworth's 'I wandered lonely as a cloud':

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the... rose growing in concrete!
Both focus on nature recollected in tranquility as providing nourishment for the soul. Nice one.