The Old Man and The Rosebush (Sonnet form)
by
James Shammas
(Age: 44)
copyright 05-23-2005
Age Rating: 10 to 127
The sun at midday in a cloudless sky
Contrasts the living green of waxen leaves
Cleanly against their shadows soaring high
As the rosebush blows freely among the trees:
A performance for all to see, hear and feel,
Sending a youthful smile to a young child's face.
Though my eyes, ears and skin can only steal,
Wither jealously with wilting face.
How it smirks under the same tempestuous sun,
Sun-scorched, and struggles to bloom.
Dessicated, the feeble recollections,
Pinching the wrinkled sun like a parched balloon.
Yet underground is where our lives will soon share,
And the sun will still shine without a care.
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Maybe the sun does care, and maybe that's why your life you share. With the rose bush and the baby, the mighty oak and the lady, nature inhabited by man, from the raging waters to the ocean sand, across the world, it holds our hand. The sun does care, it rises in our time of mourning, to shine through the darkness in all our gory. So maybe the sun does care, what else can it do, it already brings tomarrow, just to say hi to you, great write, good job, thanks,
A rosebush in full bloom is a glorious thing , but it too fades and the petals dry up and fall as its time comes to an end. As do humans, but they are the ones who take the natural changes of life so much to heart and few can accept that the sun will continue rising each morn on another journey without them. You have a lovely metaphor here of the old man seeing himself in the rosebush and contemplating his end as the sky grows older and his hours in the sun are coming to an end...I like this one even better than the first "rosebush" poem. I have worked with the elderly for years and have watched first hand the struggle towards acceptance of their own mortality.
Welcome !
