Wednesday, January 20, 2016

The Lonely Man’s Rose to Elder Wars 
A fantasy of a man as he grew old 
A fantasy shared by two men who were already old 


The Lonely Man’s Rose (poem) 

A lonely man once stumbled on a rose
The most attractive beauty to his eyes
For her a sense of purpose would repose
For him this life could hold no greater prize
-
He welcomed treasure into life and home
And promised he would have no love but her
A promise from which they would never roam
And for her gift such care would he confer
-
A light aglow would bless the place they live
For them there was no want nor a dismay
A passing storm their magic would forgive
And so a love would pass to yesterday
-
She stayed forever young as he grew old
Since day he found her she stayed his ideal
One sadness struck the night his death bell told
The rose was never real


Isn't this an Italian sonnet, we may be asking, It might have been, had it not been for the last line. It is not iambic pentameter. I tried to set up a comfortable mood and pull two surprises at the very end. If we back up to the third quatrain, we will notice that the conflicts (lines two and three) were covered up with pleasantries. The final question is our's - good thing or bad thing? 

There are a number of ways to look at "the rose". Is "the rose" a flower, a person or a thing or a faith? Let's take my wife, Amor. When I met her, she was a flower with many challenges. I took her into my home and heart. We had three unbelievable years, before I became ill. Now Amor surrounds me with memories of those wonderful times. Even though she is aware of the bleakness of my tomorrow, she presses me on with possibilities. I have said many times how Amor counteracts my would-be depression. Even more magical, Amor is no "spring chicken", yet somehow she manages to look better each day. (This is not just me complementing my wife. The people at her work want to know her secret.) When I die, will all this vanish? One more thought. The second to last line says, "One sadness..." Could this single sadness be a death? Now that our minds are open to more, "A lonely man once stumbled on a rose". 


Can any song be more fitting: John Andrew Stevenson "The Last Rose of Summer" 


From one old man's fantasy to two old men's fantasy - but wilder 


The history of chess spans over 1500 years. The earliest predecessor of the game probably originated in northern India. Or was it China? The scholars are still duking it out. If I don't have the facts (useless or not) why am I bringing this up? It seems a "friendly" game of chess was the beginning of much more. Woe is all I can say (or type). Who would have imagined two old codgers could be the source of so much destruction?  
AndrewM Films, that's who. "Elder Wars" 


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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

6 comments:

  1. you're writing about your life. your love for your wife. touching.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. that is how we writers touch.
      thank you for everything

      Delete
  2. Your rose can never die as long as you live.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Therein lies the riddle
      thank you for stopping by

      Delete