Poem and prose
Created | Updated Nov 12, 2004
RED ROSE IN A POT
With following prose
A rose is a rose, is a rose, is a rose
Gertrude Stein maybe you know
Wrote this line ‘bout a rose
Who was she would you know?
She was fat and lived in Paris
Great supporter for art and artist
Pablo painted some her portraits
Ugly as looked, she did not like it.
Pablo said that did not matter
You’ll be like that soon or later.
But the rose is still a rose, a rose
Why is that such a beautiful rose?
The rose was red and blooming, I saw
Sat in a pot and sure it was sold
Wrapped in shiny, kitschy paper
To DEADLY HANDS OF DECORATORS.
Pretty red rose, ah your beauty
Cheers up dead souls, you are lovely
But a dark soul hates your beauty:
She will kill you: ‘DIE FOR ME!”
The rose grew beauty in the sunshine,
With fine fragrance for your surprise,
But the hatred of the killer
Put the rose in darkness in there!
The rose knew she made a mistake:
To show her beauties for give it away
It was too late pretty red rose
You have to die in darkness indoors.
Who cares for your silent dead there?
Decorative object for them:
Living red rose please don’t worry
Soon will shine light for your beauty!
The “inspiring” source for this poem came from the following story:
It happened in a physician’s office. As I stepped in to the waiting room the first sight was the RED ROSE IN A POT sitting on the shelf before the receptionist’s window.
The room had no windows only artificial light.
In front of the ROSE IN A POT was a little cardholder for the doctor’s business cards.
But in the slightly dark room it struck me, that the rose will die there and the cards looked to me suddenly like a miniature tombstone for a beloved physician.
I told about my association to the doctor and needless to say: the RED ROSE IN A POT quickly was moved to a sunny window in his office where was plenty of sunshine: never again to decorate in such fashion the dark waiting room by an apparently unconcerned decorator.
The irony in this story is that a physician’s job is ultimately delay death by curing illnesses and in good health to secure a long and happy life for his patients.
But there are other creatures also in our world like animals, plants and those in between. We have to care about them as well and not to be the hopelessly self-centered humans, who think we can claim everything for ourselves.
I did not stress this subject, because the doctor was a gardener in his spare time: for relaxation as he said it. Certainly was an embarrassing situation.
For me it was satisfactory achievement, that I never saw again in his office such rude event as the Red Rose in a Pot waiting for his death in the dark waiting room.
After all once a human goes to a doctor’s office there is time to think in the waiting room about some of those unavoidable facts what all human has to face.
I wish not to evoke depressing thoughts for any one of my readers. Myself: I found an answer in peaceful acceptance for the facts of life and thereafter.
With following prose
A rose is a rose, is a rose, is a rose
Gertrude Stein maybe you know
Wrote this line ‘bout a rose
Who was she would you know?
She was fat and lived in Paris
Great supporter for art and artist
Pablo painted some her portraits
Ugly as looked, she did not like it.
Pablo said that did not matter
You’ll be like that soon or later.
But the rose is still a rose, a rose
Why is that such a beautiful rose?
The rose was red and blooming, I saw
Sat in a pot and sure it was sold
Wrapped in shiny, kitschy paper
To DEADLY HANDS OF DECORATORS.
Pretty red rose, ah your beauty
Cheers up dead souls, you are lovely
But a dark soul hates your beauty:
She will kill you: ‘DIE FOR ME!”
The rose grew beauty in the sunshine,
With fine fragrance for your surprise,
But the hatred of the killer
Put the rose in darkness in there!
The rose knew she made a mistake:
To show her beauties for give it away
It was too late pretty red rose
You have to die in darkness indoors.
Who cares for your silent dead there?
Decorative object for them:
Living red rose please don’t worry
Soon will shine light for your beauty!
The “inspiring” source for this poem came from the following story:
It happened in a physician’s office. As I stepped in to the waiting room the first sight was the RED ROSE IN A POT sitting on the shelf before the receptionist’s window.
The room had no windows only artificial light.
In front of the ROSE IN A POT was a little cardholder for the doctor’s business cards.
But in the slightly dark room it struck me, that the rose will die there and the cards looked to me suddenly like a miniature tombstone for a beloved physician.
I told about my association to the doctor and needless to say: the RED ROSE IN A POT quickly was moved to a sunny window in his office where was plenty of sunshine: never again to decorate in such fashion the dark waiting room by an apparently unconcerned decorator.
The irony in this story is that a physician’s job is ultimately delay death by curing illnesses and in good health to secure a long and happy life for his patients.
But there are other creatures also in our world like animals, plants and those in between. We have to care about them as well and not to be the hopelessly self-centered humans, who think we can claim everything for ourselves.
I did not stress this subject, because the doctor was a gardener in his spare time: for relaxation as he said it. Certainly was an embarrassing situation.
For me it was satisfactory achievement, that I never saw again in his office such rude event as the Red Rose in a Pot waiting for his death in the dark waiting room.
After all once a human goes to a doctor’s office there is time to think in the waiting room about some of those unavoidable facts what all human has to face.
I wish not to evoke depressing thoughts for any one of my readers. Myself: I found an answer in peaceful acceptance for the facts of life and thereafter.
