It always was this way. My age perhaps, my inner age, the age I've always been, that I see beauties in a flower long past it's best -- not there when it was in its prime. The rose that blooms a step too far, gets over big, too heavy for its stem, its face too blown. Perhaps too sated for the bees that visit it, but in whatever cause, it oversteps the mark, cannot contain its shape or hue. If only nature had a reset button for the flower -- as that hid wrapped inside the human brain. I understand the present beauty of the flower. Inclusive loveliness. A montage of the graces that have flown. To me it says: Perfection never was. Decay rips silently inside the ache for more. The artist knows not when to stop. There is no point at which two visions meet: This vision of the future on a view of now. What once seemed consummation of our hopes, the rose's full potential, its maturity, was but the master's small maquette for what was still to come. Back then I gave it all my admiration, but now it has me locked in its embrace, defenseless in the face of these new charms and ravished into ecstasy.
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reader...
Saturday, 3 November 2012
Ere the first sad petal falls
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
from bud to beauty to decay... it's sad how quickly it happens, yet thankfully they grow so many more.
Phew...this was so beautiful.
The life cycle of beauty and the wish to keep it forever as it is, and the futility of not being able to because life doesn't stand still. I love the inner ache of the author, the appreciation of beauty for the eye and the way the love changes into even accepting and seeing the different beauty in it changing as its dying.
What a truly fabulous read Dave.
I have been known to keep flowers in a vase through their 'dead' stages, too, for precisely the reasons you give- though I've never been articulate enough to voice them as you have. Colour and form may change, but structure has its own ongoing beauty...
Thank you for making my brain think this chilly morning!
How lovely to read Dave...if only nature had a reset button for the flower but I do love the present beauty of the flower before it quickly fades ~
Back then I gave it all my admiration,
but now it has me locked in its embrace,defenseless in the face of these new charms and ravished into ecstasy.
Gosh, one has to be really overwhelmed to suffer the bullying and indignity! Nicely Dave!
Lovely. I feel the same way many times. It is the life that is lovely and not just the prime time.
i think much like people, flowers carry their beauty well past what some would call prime...its all in how you look at it and appreciate it...or them...smiles...
So true and very suggestive lines...I hope that time will go by a little more slowly on the blooming.
Such beautiful lines about perfection and decay -
You see I am procrastinating! But enjoying the diversion here! k.
I like the idea of seeing beauty in a rose that is past its prime. So many people find beauty in the prime rose; but they walk past the others or nip them off. This is definitely a lesson for life, to appreciate all living things throughout their lifespan...
Oh Dave, what a sad poem, but true nevertheless.
Such hope your words have brought to this flower way past it's prime!
There IS life past the youth and beauty our society worships, isn't there?
Just like the gorgeous roses that I keep in a vase until they've practically decomposed, we too have a changing beauty as we age.
Well we can hope we're still appreciated, can't we?!
A great meditation. With powerful echoes in the background...Keats, Wilde..."The Nightingale and The Rose"... And even something a bit less noble but equally enjoyable, a song by Hank Williams brought back to life by Bob Dylan:
" Just like a rose your love faded away..."
And then the cycle repeats again. Exactly. Thanks for your thoughts.
Thank you so much for this most gracious comment. Nothing for me to come back with, you have summed it all up beautifully.
Thank you for this very much appreciated comment. I would have to challenge your statement that you couldn't articulate your thoughts well enough. Your blogs say you can. And you are spot on with your thoughts about structure having its own beauty.
Yes, maybe the reset button was not such a good idea. I shall have to give it a bit more thought... Thank you for yours.
I think you have hit the nail on the head. That is exactly it - being overwhelmed. Much thanks.
Very true. Yes, I can go with that. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
Indeed, the comparison with people is very apt. Thank you very much for that.
Lovely thought. Me too!
Long may you procrastinate - but not to the detriment of your writing. I lovwe the compliment. Thanks for.
Good to hear your thoughts on this. I fully agree - though Brian's linking of the rose with people maybe colours the thought with a few slightly diffrent hues.
The Weaver of Grass
Yes, but there's a beauty and an indefinable gladness even in the sadness itself, remembering that it's the transience which gives the impetus to our enjoyment of beauty.
Compellingly put. Yes, yes,yes, I can go with all of that. Much thanks for saying.
Wow! Much to chew on here! I love the echoes - esp the Hank Williams song. That appeals to me.
This poem was touching in so many ways. Funny that yesterday I was out in the garden helping my wife out to clean our pond and I noticed how, despite the recent inclement weather and chilly temperatures, there's still a rose in our garden. It looks defiant and challenging against all the elements.
Loved that poem. Many thanks.
Greetings from London.
Post a Comment