Among the thorns, I found a yellow rose;
its petals shaped in perfect harmony.
It grew inside a thicket, I suppose
awaiting lovers’ hands to set it free.
I wandered down a path to reach the quay
when autumn wore her wrinkled satin clothes
and there beside the restless, singing sea,
among the thorns, I found a yellow rose.
Its secret place I vowed not to disclose
as light of moon shone on a myrtle tree.
The rose appeared in Mona Lisa pose,–
its petals shaped in perfect harmony.
Although it seemed to beg in silent plea,
without a word I shook my head and chose
to leave the flower in serenity.
It grew inside the thicket, I suppose.
Recalling your last words that quickly froze
my heart like snow in northern Zuider Zee,
I left the yellow bud to decompose,
awaiting lovers’ hands to set it free.
I wish that you and I could still agree
and write love letters in poetic prose
so that our prideful hearts would always be
like autumn roses ready to transpose
among the thorns.
© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols
(This poem is a Rondeau Redouble. The ocean picture is one I took at Rockport, Massachusetts.
The yellow rose bush grows in Arkansas at the home of Calla Linn. She graciously gave permission
for her picture to appear here on my blog. Thank you, Calla Linn)
The flow of this was so interesting that I’m now curious about the Rondeau Redouble. Seems to suit the theme so well. Hope you are having a great holiday weekend.
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Thanks, Inger. Yes, our holiday weekend is good. How’s your holiday? Yesterday, I attended a writer’s conference. In one of the contests, I won a $5 check for an Honorable Mention for an essay. 🙂 Although the Chuckwagon Races are held in this area, we chose to spend the weekend at home.
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Beautiful poem. Yellow roses are my favorite.
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I understand they stand for friendship.
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Love this one. The photos are perfect with this poem.
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I borrowed the picture of the yellow rose from a friend. I’d seen the roses in bloom in her yard and she had posted it on Facebook. I’ve gotten used to posting pictures along with the poems. Just my hobby.
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I haven’t tried that form yet, Freeda. Lovely poem!
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I like the way it repeats.
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Yes me too
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so pretty!
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Thanks!
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That was beautiful. Yellow roses are rare. My mother grew roses and I think only one of her bushes was yellow. The others were all shades of red.
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I love them. When we first moved into our house where we are now, there was a yellow rose near the porch, but it didn’t last. Roses are not easy to grow.
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