Let's be reasonable with one another, shall we?

Thursday, March 02, 2006


Shaky legs run to isolation
Gasping for breath, then collapse
Tears in eyes squeezed shut
Wails scrape throat as they pass
Hands clench pillow
Shaken heart thumps

Earth is gone
Only this couch remains

Desperation turns to emptiness
Body worn, tired, spent
Looking through salty eyes I see
The DEAD branches of early March

(Rose Cole, 1989)


  • This is not real profound, I know, but it is what my mind can remember of being a 12 year old and learning of the death of my father.

    By Blogger Rose~, at 3/02/2006 9:09 AM  

  • I am honestly not sure what those who've gone on before us can know but I do know when your Father knows how you've turned out he'll be extremely grateful for his little girl.

    By Blogger Kc, at 3/02/2006 10:02 AM  

  • Rose,

    What kc said!!! Amen!


    By Blogger bluecollar, at 3/02/2006 10:40 AM  

  • Good poem.

    By Blogger Dyspraxic Fundamentalist, at 3/02/2006 11:57 AM  

  • You are all very kind.

    By Blogger Rose~, at 3/02/2006 1:38 PM  

  • Thanks for sharing this, Rose. As the others have said, I am sure your father would be proud of you.

    By Blogger Gordon Cloud, at 3/02/2006 2:33 PM  

  • I agree with the sentiment of your friends and find it to be a really beautiful poem.

    You capture the profound shock of death.

    By Blogger H K Flynn, at 3/02/2006 3:05 PM  

  • Very moving poem Rose!

    By Blogger Dorothy, at 3/02/2006 4:23 PM  

  • Hold on, baby, Spring's coming!!!

    19 more days (also to my b-day).

    By Blogger Jeff H, at 3/02/2006 9:45 PM  

  • You all are also very kind.

    By Blogger Rose~, at 3/02/2006 9:49 PM  

  • Rose~
    What an intense discription of the feelings the death of a loved one brings.

    Thanks for sharing that...

    love, John

    By Blogger J. Wendell, at 3/03/2006 7:02 AM  

  • Hi Rose,

    This is a great poem! I'll tell you how you can tell that it's great:

    Other people can read it, and it talks about things that they, too, may have experienced, but had never put into words. So when they read your words, it gives expression to something deeper in their own heart, that maybe they haven't even fully defined. That makes it 'click' with them.

    This is very similar to the way prophecy works, by the way, (1 Cor 14:24-25), so it reminds me of something I once told you. Deborah was a poet too, you know.


    By Blogger Cleopas, at 3/04/2006 2:23 PM  

  • J. Wendell,
    I hate death.


    By Blogger Rose~, at 3/04/2006 3:49 PM  

  • that was really beautiful and profound. I'm really glad i found your blog. God bless you.

    By Blogger Nunzia, at 3/27/2006 4:13 PM  

  • Thanks, Nunzia. Wow, you were looking in my archives. That doesn't happen very often, I don't think. God bless YOU, sister.

    By Blogger Rose~, at 3/27/2006 9:55 PM  

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