Dear Poets of Artella:

June is, among other things, "Rose Month".  Here's my challenge to you for the month of June:

Write a poem a week, inspired by the NAME of a rose. Here's a very short list of Rose Names to get you started:

 Dear Aunt Bobby – What a wonderful idea!  I accept your challenge!  Roses are so special to me and so are YOU!  To start the challenge for June, while also bringing May to a close, I will post this favorite rose poem from my past.  I still dream of its future potential in a project of the same name: “The Impossible Garden”.  It seems the perfect time and place to share this particular poem.  I wrote it to accompany a self portrait/mask assemblage.  A section of the poem qualifies as an Altered Poem, because it was inspired by SARK’s (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy’s) advice on “How to Be An Artist”.  

RED ROSE WILD

A Life Mask & Mixed Media Assemblage with Poem

IMPOSSIBLE GARDEN

By Lori Minick, 2004

Then the rainstorm came over her
Bringing with it many unwanted tears.
She had been cut,
Separated from her wild roots,
Planted here in this unrecognizable place.

“Why, oh why
Did he have to pick me?”
Wailed Red Rose Wild,
Who used to be free.

“Never stop growing,”
Responded the Sun
“Do it for love dear Rose
And then you will see.”

Rose looked up
Through the falling rain
Her tear streaked face turned up
Toward the sky seeking a familiar face.
“But this is an impossible garden.
And I am afraid.
I am afraid I will forget how.”
Whimpered Red Rose Wild.

“Then try to remember, dear Rose.
Life is an Act of Love.
You must cultivate it.
Use tools from above.
Allow time for this to take root.”

“What are these tools?
How do I use them?
And where can they be found?”
Wondered Red Rose Wild.

“The answer, my lovely one
I have written upon your face.”
Replied the radiant Sun.

“Each day with unfailing Grace:
Play with old people
Believe in children
Build a fort of innocence
Celebrate its walls
Transform responsibility
Stimulate perfect calm
Mend broken fences.
Draw on moonbeams
Dive into moods
Drive away fears
Bless wandering snails
Listen to the trees
And hug your dreams.
Display that which you seek to possess,
Outrageously, obsessively
With unseemly exaggeration
But with genuine preoccupation.
Open up and get wet!
Entertain the rain
And behold my rainbow!
Stir the fragrance of your soul
Which is the aroma of my love for you,
Then you shall find yourself abloom
In the heart of
This impossible garden.”

“Surely not by my own red self?
Promise you won’t leave me…
Alone to wilt in my uncertainty!”
Worried Red Rose Wild.

With a triumphant burst through the clouds
Wielding his colorful promise at last,
The smiling Sun caressed her velvet face lovingly
And softly whispered,
“Do you not see, my glorious one?
You have always and yet,
Have never been
Free.
This garden is impossible…
Yes, impossible
Without me.”

“My, oh my,
Now I am truly free,”
Whispered Red Rose Wild,
Who used to be me.

Great start, Harqn2!   Thanks for being first on board.  I'm expecting LOTS of poems here -- the possibilities seem endless!

Hugs ~~ Aunt Bobby

More -- More  -- More!!

How about MORE poems inspired by the names of roses! 

Can't think of any?  Here are some from the S list at the URL in the first post:

Silver Moon, Silver Star, Singing in the Rain, Sunflare, Sundowner, Sweet Vivien, Sunny June

That should give you poets some inspiration!

Hugs

Aunt Bobby

I'm so glad you wrote another post here, Aunt Bobby.  I missed the first one.  Roses are my absolute favorite flower.  I had an article published about my grandfather's roses several years ago.  I included it in my blog here in Artellaland.  Anyway, I definitely want to try writing a poem. 

Bill 

Your assemblage is stunning, harqn2!  I hope it's alright that I print your poem so I can really take it all in.

Thanks, Bill -- And yes, please feel free to print it.  It's a lot to take in.  When Red Rose was on exhibit at the annual "Simply Red" exhibit ("The redder, the better" is the motto at this event which is held on or near Valentine's Day at the dA Gallery in Pomona, CA.) they had to put up a sign "Do Not Touch" because people wanted to reach out and make contact.  I do remember that Red Rose did make it into the critics review when they made the rounds that year.  When they described the top ten red list favorites the adjectives chosen ranged from erotic and some other words, which slip my mind.  The one I remember of course is what they called Red Rose:  Eerie.  I took that as a compliment.   

This is a poem I wrote a year ago, and pulled out because it fits the theme so well. I purchased roses one Saturday, intending to plant one for each of my nearly grown children, and never noted any of the names until I got home. Then I was struck by the relevance of each name.

THREE ROSES 

It is a farmers market Saturday

rhubarb pocket pies
vine ripened tomatoes
baby red potatoes
handfuls of green onions
fresh muenster cheese
corn fresh from the field
white cap mushrooms

and

three tea roses bought from the whiskery
gentleman farmer in the green cap

The first rose,
creamy petals melting into
the colors of dawn
bush shiny with new growth
buds at every terminus
dedicated to my first born
my first daughter.
Day Breaker - the rose's name -
my first child, my day breaker.
Awake with every sunrise,
born to unsuspecting parents,
we thought our days would
continue as before
unaware, we were, that a baby's
purpose in life
is to break the day
into tiny prisms of time
so that nothing but baby love
ever is done.
Sweet Day Breaker.

The second rose,
a precious deep pink beauty
carries the moniker Gentle Giant,
planted for my middle child,
my only son,
my tyrannical teen who mellowed into
my beloved gentle giant.
(those kindergarten kids you teach
are sure to be in love
their gentle giant teacher)
Handsome Gentle Giant.

And the third tea rose
planted for my third child 
a lovely rose in shades of cream
dancing with pink fringes.
Secret is the rose's name,
how fitting for this last of mine,
she who always keeps her secrets,
and always surprised
when we ask her who she is
and what she thinks.
Precious Secret.

Three roses.
Three children.

Fully blessed.

Bo 

Wonderful, Bo!   Thanks.

It certainly DOES fit the theme!

Hugs ~~  Aunt Bobby

Ok, Poets -- here's one from me.

(Remember, the poem doesn't HAVE to be about roses -- it just has to be inspired by the NAME of a rose.)

Windchimes

The little ones tinkle
The big ones go boom
The in-between-ones softly chime
The wind makes the music
It lightens my soul
It's heavenly music - sublime!

 OK -- it's YOUR turn!

 Beautiful, moving, touching, eloquent!!!  (And, said the snail at the top of the knoll, It's all downhill from here...)

1. "For many years, Betty Prior was one of the most popular roses in the United States, and it is still very popular. It is a graceful small upright bush with single pink flowers that are displayed in clusters that often rise above the foliage. The ovoid buds of this rose open to medium-size, single carmine-pink cupped blooms with darker pink on the reverse sides of the petals. The fragrant flowers occur in clusters, and repeat throughout the growing season." -- http://www.ph-rose-gardens.com/01307.htm

2. "Not complicated or fragile. Hardy and enduring. Well, in a word, sensible. Thomas C. Cooper writes: 'The rose Betty Prior is rumored to be the favorite of the Queen of England, and if this is true, I imagine the appeal for her is similar to that of another English institution for which she has a well-documented affection - the sensible shoe.'"  -- http://www.marinrose.org/monthjuly04.html

 I have always loved Betty Prior.  What a fantastic poem, Constance!  It's making me want to do an altered book about roses.  I haven't found my poetry hat this week, but I'll keep looking.

 Oh... my... GOODNESS!  I can't imagine a more wonderful thing than An Altered Book By Bill on ROSES!!!

if the night were perfum

if the night enwrapped me

in her breath of an old Spanish rose!!!!!

from GOYA

Goya, dear!  It is GREAT to have you back! 

This is a fine poem about roses.  I'd love it if you would write several!

Hugs ~~  Aunt Bobby