My Story, Yours Too.

Monday, June 13, 2011

This 27 Year Old Rose

I wrote this poem in 1983 when I was 17(and rather intense). My goal was to enter it into a poetry contest, but only if it was good enough.  So I nervously showed my sister to get her feedback. Dawn perused it and scoffed, “You didn’t write this!” I gulped, thinking Okay, what do I do with this?  What I did was hide it away, never to show anyone…until now. Gulp. I did mention I was intense. Right?

Around the same time, I painted the above picture. 
Have a rosy day!  
This Rose

From a tiny seed blooms a single rose.
Distinctiveness, sweet smell, and beauty it holds.
This rose thrives, while sharing its hue, taking heat from the sun and the cool droplets of dew.
Amid the chirping of the birds, plants swaying in the breeze,
I can almost hear this rose say, “Today, I am happy.”
The brown soil hardens and leaves start to wilt. Days of summer have faded by.
I watch this rose grow older, tears forming in my eyes.
A special crimson it once had, a deep red color – such vividness.
Before the changing of the seasons, this rose’s change in appearance.
This rose has been undergoing internal changes too.
Environmental differences create new points of view.
I’m aware of all these things, for this rose I’ve watched grow.
Of its sentiments, its transformations, no one but I will ever know.
Uninvited winter storms approach as tears surge from my eyes.
Though losing much vitality, through the harsh weather it survives.
If it could express itself, this rose would say, “This isn’t fair! Look what’s happening to me!”
Suddenly, two leaves descend from its stem, carried off by an active breeze.
The account for such anguish this rose is feeling is evident:
Those youthful days of summer WON’T EVER BE AGAIN.
While petals vary to shades of gray, happiness, beauty, strength all continue to decay.
I watch now as this rose shrivels up to die complacently
Leaving behind one vivid red petal,
A part of you and me.


  1. Wow, that was really well-written. You've always been a writer!

  2. I'm not surprised she had an attack of sibling jealously after reading your poem. Did you submit it?

  3. don't you love reading things you have written before? And still enjoying it? Always a have always been a writer.

  4. You should of submitted it. It's a beautiful poem. Even though I can only write limericks, I know quality when I read it (even limericks).

  5. Your sister was a big fat fool who knew not verse from word or plain jealous...I could never write this well even at 21...really moving, a journey of a rose, could be that of a person.

  6. Sorry for my rather strong words...I have no right to say such things. :)

  7. awww so you never entered it into the sad...It is very good. amazing how mature your writing was even at 17. yes very intense. I bet it would have won! And the painting fits it perfectly. Blessings, Joanne

  8. HI. I found your blog while skimming through Joanne's blog roll. Your blog name is very inticing, and I couldn't pass it up! Wonderful poem, and the rose is good, too. I'm a new follower.

  9. Rek, please don't feel bad. I can take it, and she can too (if she even reads it).

    Thanks everyone. I was nervous about posting this so many years later. (We can be our own worst and/or silliest enemy). So I really appreciate your feedback.

    Darlene, thanks so much for the follow. Nice to meet you. I'll be visiting soon.


  10. Robyn, for some reason your posts are not showing up in my Google Reader anymore! I'm still following you. Don't know what happened. I'm not ignoring you, I promise.

  11. I totally left this Earth for a few minutes--THANK YOU--that was beautiful,

    Love ya tons!!!



  12. An artists feelings are so easily wounded by the words of another. You have been doing great work since you were soooo young. It's a shame that your sister was so brutal and that you took is so personally.
    I wish that there was a way that as a child we learned to not take things that others said so personally. I didn't write for thirty years after the critical words of my stuck up English lit high school teacher. Mind you, I did have a teacher sophomore year that compared my prose to e.e. cummings. But I didn't regard her as highly as my gorgeous English Lit teacher. I could just kick myself.

    Write on sister, write on!


  13. So true, Lisa. Thanks for sharing that story. Words can lift or break young sensitive spirits.

    Thank you, all.
    Hugs and chocolate kisses,

  14. Robyn! I can't believe someone so young wrote this! But this particular Dawn knows you did because I have seen your talent. What a great metaphor for life and aging.
    I also love the painting! Multi talented :)

  15. Wow Robyn. Just wow. That was simply beautiful. You totally should have submitted it!!

  16. This is for the 17yrold Robyn...

    You are talented! You should send it out...but if you don't no matter.. your thoughts like your soul is beautiful...
    Keep writing.. as that's who you are...

    See, youve always been one... I also wrote alot at 17. Such a vulnerable age. We think others know what art is, but many do not.
    I only just realised that we are very close in age. Your only a year ahead of me. We were writing our thoughts from our tortured teenage hearts at the same time.. lol

    Great work, and great to see it available to the world...finally

  17. Anthony, I'm so touched. Thank you, dear friend.

    Babysis, thanks so much. You're sweet.