Never did I imagine you needed me
Nor did I question the intent of your self-inquisition
Nor was I preoccupied
With the direction of the ocean breeze
As your eyes were immersed
With visions you longed to see
Never did I consider
You desired to know my reasoning
In rebuffing the status quo
While being engulfed within it
Or what I depended on
When shadows blocked out the sun
Or who I relied upon
When things became dysfunctional
Even as I stand before your grave
The arrangement of flowers
Seem awkward of discontinuous
As if they were planted by a blind gardener
In the heart of winter
And now only the dead want to listen
To the passion of my thoughts
Dreaming in the rain
Never did I imagine you wanted me
Even now as tulips wilt alone
Even tulips bloom when they are rejected. We all have a constant companion if we look over our shoulders. For want of a better name we call it Our-Own-Death. We can fear this visitor or use it for our personal growth. We can talk to the dead ineffectually or use it to help us live effectively. Even as sad as a poem this is, it is also inspirational, Jude.
the dead teach us much about living or failing to live. what's quite functional here is your ability to articulate the ocean of sadness without losing the focused energy of deeper thought. Dawn
Robert
Has a deep metaphorical feel about this poignant pen...
I feel shades of a broken or malfunctioning relationship, that died a death for want of cultivation of spirits !
Peter
Oh, this is good. Understating because superlatives feel
weak and redundant. So much sadness, so much pain,
so many memories. Love is often "planted by a blind
gardner in the heart of winter." We dream in the rain. . .
as the tulips wilt along. Y e s. We stand at the
graveside with you, feeling. . .remembering. . .daring
to hope. Bless you for writing this. More, for being the
person who could. <3 'Pea' <3
Sometimes, it's only after death that we come to terms with the special side of one that touched and blessed our lives. Although we may feel that its too late to tell them, it's not them that needs to hear the words anyway, it's only the living that needs confirmation, the dead has already had theirs.
This is deeply touching words Robert.
...An ivy-round-my-heart write. This makes me feel totally uncomfortable as it SHOUTS at me about personal relationships in the here and now, rather than ones that have passed... though, given the dynamics of such dysfunctional comings-together, it is hardly surprising when perhaps they DO ultimately die. I must be comin at this upside-down and back-to-front as I see neither lament nor guilt here, but rather sorry frustration at the lack of emotional traffic, connection and communication that causes us to feel like "death" around another we desire to love or be "in love" with... or to be the dismal cause of them feeling likewise around us. This poem is like a chain-harrow over the soul, but healthy expression - even after "the event" - might lend healing to one, other or both in the long run... all might yet "turn up roses"!! (Yes, ever the optimist, I know! :)) A picturesque, poignant and emotionally charged piece and the last three stanzas are, for me, like a bullet between the eyes. Sad to think we only start listening to or HEARING the other's point of view once things have finally ground to a halt... Yet still we hang on, even if we don't get it... Right, off I go to clear Mum's grave of dying flowers then...(seriously!!) Katacomb Kate xx
I think it can be a long time after someone passes before we become intorspective enough to understand their true place in our lives. So often we closed the door and did not allow ourselves to hear their words or feel the way that their energy blended so well with our own. The question is not in why we didn't notice but more in the why we refused to notice and how they never gave up on the notion that one day we would understand. A bitter bite of reality in this poem for each of us to chew upon. Excellent, Jude!
Take care,
Sherry
Sad that sometimes we are blind to the needs of those closest to us.
Those we think we know best, can be our greatest surprise...It's difficult to come to terms with what you portray in this heart wrenching poem. Mainly because you feel guilt and the person isn't there any longer to tell you not to.To not know you were truly wanted gives you an awful lot to ponder...yet guilt is not the answer,forgiveness is. Superbly written!
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Sage
Reindeer
Ron
As if they were planted by a blind gardener
In the heart of winter <-----Brilliant.....
Has a deep metaphorical feel about this poignant pen...
I feel shades of a broken or malfunctioning relationship, that died a death for want of cultivation of spirits !
Peter
weak and redundant. So much sadness, so much pain,
so many memories. Love is often "planted by a blind
gardner in the heart of winter." We dream in the rain. . .
as the tulips wilt along. Y e s. We stand at the
graveside with you, feeling. . .remembering. . .daring
to hope. Bless you for writing this. More, for being the
person who could. <3 'Pea' <3
Excellent and touching write.
Amira
This is deeply touching words Robert.
Lisa
Paul
Love Tinka
when he was living.
Take care,
Sherry
Those we think we know best, can be our greatest surprise...It's difficult to come to terms with what you portray in this heart wrenching poem. Mainly because you feel guilt and the person isn't there any longer to tell you not to.To not know you were truly wanted gives you an awful lot to ponder...yet guilt is not the answer,forgiveness is. Superbly written!
Eileen
I concur with Jerry--impressive poem, very well done. Poignant, passionate, beautiful.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Felix
Love And Light, JoAnne