Poem: The Revels of The Rose

Revel: To take intense pleasure, satisfaction in something. Merriam-Webster Dictionary

The following story poem was inspired after a friend, Sharon, posted a picture in her yard of two brilliant red roses, each with a crown of ice donning their bright, cherry-red heads. Not only did it captivate and draw me, but it inspired this poem.  The photo is now printed on canvas and hangs in my office to delight me all the more.  


She wearied herself unseen, unheard

With petals crimped and colors blurred

The weight of soul, the ice did pierce

No longer strong, no longer fierce.

 

Cried out she did, in vulnerable voice

With heavy of soul, she had no choice

Then as a dream, a warmth shown through

A vision of light, a vision of blue.

 

Pristine a Presence of pure divine

Whispered these words, like blush of wine 

“Looking for Me, in such a time?

Come, walk with me, it’s summertime.

 

From somber color to rising rays.

Of diamonds and opals and rubies of praise

The scent of peace, the fragrance of Hope

A winter sweet, no longer to grope

 

“The weight you bear on petals drooping

Are a cloak of care, The Spirits swooping

A weight of glory and diamond dust

A crown of jewels and here you trust

 

These times of troubles will melt away

For splendor and glory I will display

A life that’s given, will graciously bloom

And blossoms you gather, your heirloom

 

To live as Christ and die is gain

The flower of red, drenched in vein

Flowers do fade as flowers do

But the word of God stands, fresh and new

 

It stands forever and will always be

The Rose of Bethlehem crowned for thee.

His Name is Jesus, our counselor Friend

From crown of thorns to transcend

 

This Rose did bloom in purity white

To shine the truth where all is bright

The rose of red on earth did see

Appeared to her, with colors that be

 

Unimaginably vibrant, and crystal clear

It lifted her chin and brought great cheer

All things new, all things beautiful

Things gone through, are made more usable 

 

A beautiful warmth, and the soul breathed in

The woman of flower and here it begins.

Hope does blossom for what was promised

And here she revels in the song of Psalmist.

PoetryDianne Buffington