Old Rose in the Dust (poem) by C. G. McGovern-Bowen on AuthorsDen

Old Rose in the Dust
by C. G. McGovern-Bowen → (All Poetry by C. G. McGovern-Bowen)
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Poem about aging with grace written as a tribute to author's 85-year old mother who has suffered several strokes; 01/18/03
Old rose in the dust, who will be your friend? Time's coursing has surely etched its web of lines; spine shriveled, hands stiffening, and a once lustrous mane now silvered and thin. Old rose in the dust, who will be your friend? The body's limits are finely charted after many a meandering mile; now needing walker, wheelchair, and brace to amble around. Yes, gone is the liberty of casual self-sufficiency and its joys of easy motion; with it, the luxury of long bubbly soaks, and gardening's sublime pleasures! Old rose in the dust, who will be your friend? Bid adieu to bracing Atlantic swims and carefree horseback rides; now a good read demands the effort tending eleven children once did! The joy of beaming babies, nursing tasks, and bedtime story readings gently fades; so, too, does carnal passion's sweet love song lay secreted away, frozen in some forgotten time. Old rose in the dust, who will be your friend? But how the mind keenly sharpens on the distant past; why care about a moment ago when life's rich journey is so varied and long? Yes, the ebb and flow of happiness and fortune have taken a mighty toll; but see how brilliantly burnished has emerged the tender soul! Old rose in the dust, who will be your friend? True, the body weakens and mind falters, but wittness that shinning all-seeing-ness of one's time-ripened soul! Behold the beauty of compassion's time-tested wisdom; witness patience's loving generosity outlast time's irreversible unraveling. Old rose in the dust, when finally free to frolic midst our exquisite celestial realm, know, too, that our loving dance endures beyond time's end. Old rose in the dust, I am your steadfast friend!
Evil Seed

Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater

Reviewed on March 16, 2009

I would have loved her...she would have loved me...I would have read to her aloud, just to bring a smile to her face, if only for a moment...oh, and how she would have loved me to read her The Ride of Bridget Spooner...Celtic female mischief and abbey Tavistock Cider...the bond only a mother and daughter can know, Carolyn...to be admired...I admire her eldest daughter, you know...

Sage

Reviewed by Jerry Andrews (Reader)

Reviewed on June 26, 2004

Beautiful job, Carolyn, written by a very complex loved one. Try my Journey with its tender soul. Jerry Andrews

Reviewed by Bonnie Torrente

Reviewed on June 25, 2004

I loved this. Well done.

Love, Bonnie

Reviewed by E. Richardson

Reviewed on June 25, 2003

I love this! It reminded me of a comment I made to my mother recently, the older I get, the smarter she appears. Good work here.

Reviewed by Uriah Fields

Reviewed on April 26, 2003

Carolyn, this is a heart-touching poem. It is easy for any aware person to identify with what you have said regarding your mother because, in a certain way, that transition is taking place in each human being. Could it be that we all are dying even as we are living? Maybe, living and dying or just inextricably interwoven. Well stated.

Reviewed by Marco Landi (Reader)

Reviewed on April 11, 2003

Behold the beauty of compassion's time tested wisdom......
hmmmm love your work

Reviewed by Rodney Bohen

Reviewed on March 24, 2003

Carolyn,
Bravo! The title alone is painted in accented pagentry and imagry, which caused me quickly to see the portrait. I applaud your topic, for indeed if we were a learning and insightful society, our measure of grace and attention focused upon the elderly would surely advance itself, knowing of a surity, that it remains our place as well, in the morrow undone.
Well done, great piece!
Rodney Evan Bohen