Autumn always takes on a new flavor of life. Looking for a poem and an image in my vast collection of poems, course essays, watercolor paintings and photos can be overwhelming.
I looked so different through my 30, 40 and 50s. I was round and motherly sometimes with exceptionally long hair. Yet with a family to take care of I guess I did not worry so much about how I looked. I was healthy. A little depressed about my images but kind of happy how I look now which is much different and polished.
I was looking for a poem I wrote in 1989 entitled, The Rose that fell in love with the Owl. I thought about this poem due to my current discovery of two clusters in the constellation of Cassiopeia.
Caroline’s Rose or the White Rose Cluster and the Owl Cluster are in the same constellation of Cassiopeia. So, the poem popped into my mind. That is one thing I have learned in my old age. My mind is particularly good at holding on to things and analyzing information. I must admit it is a strange poem after typing it up and not reading it for close to 40 years.
The Rose That Fell in Love with The Owl.
The owl to the rose:
“Come visit me if you can,
Don’t come if you can’t,
For I won’t be waiting for you,
And don’t be waiting for me.
For I don’t need you,
I don’t want you,
But If you do share yourself,
That is fine with me,
I’ll be happy either way.
For your happy, sexy, and warm,
Whether you’re with me or without me,
I’m happy, sexy, and warm,
Whether I’m with you or without you.
For we are two individuals,
I’m an owl and you are a rose,
When together or apart!
Any blending while together,
Is an experience from the heart,
For you care for me,
And I care for you,
But don’t want me,
And don’t wait for me,
For you are wanting to hold me,
Is like grasping ambiguously,
In the dark.
Watch my wings glimmer,
As I fly away.
And your needing to be with me,
Is only an illusionary warm spark.”
The rose took a long gulp of air …
“I don’t want to desire or have any expectations for you,
So, don’t want or desire or have any expectations for me.
For if you have any of that stuff for me,
I’ll make me as a mirror,
And reflect yourself back at you,
Cracking the hope,
Spearing that bond,
Throwing you back to yourself,
Any gift you wanted to give, my dear.
Don’t want what you can’t have!
I’ll miss holding you,
I’ll miss caressing you,
Even if your thorns stick me.
I’ll give you a few little essences of myself,
But the only thing this will be,
Are the memories.
And when you are on your way home,
You’ll still be happy, sexy, and warm,
I won’t be there,
But I do care,
Don’t think that you need me,
Because you have you,
don’t think that you want me,
because you can’t have me,
because when you thorn’s cry,
aching for the owl you love,
I won’t be there,
Take what is around you,
Another owl or another friend,
Because you can’t have me.”
The owl quickly flew away crying a “Hoot.”
Cried herself to sleep
Knowing that the owl’s honesty was
something she had to accept.
And her open bloom so heavy with a peak of scent,
drew back and closed.
A bud back and her way home from the blossomed
dreams reached expanded
and now had contracted, calmed, and withdrawn,
shaking, shaking with
the warp and weft of the living patterns of life.
But while sitting there she heard
a cat talking to a dog behind her.
He barked and cracked a joke…
Rose: “He, He, He” … her belly knotted with humor.