there is a picture of her somewhere, I am sure

there is a picture of her somewhere, I am sure

 

 

 

there is a kindness

in the frost

a mercy killing of the shrinking rose

 

his coldness 

is her keeper

a mercy killing of the shrinking rose

 

thorns of memory

she is left

heart a strange wreckage

a mercy killing of the shrinking rose

 

bulbous beauty

others strain to view

but the frost

a mercy killing of the shrinking rose

 

nature's mirror

tosses her a glimpse

of what she has become

a mercy killing of the shrinking rose

 

now the thought of her pressed

between pages of a snapshot life

the thorns protrude, the stem's last shot of adrenaline

a mercy killing of the shrinking rose

 

I prefer to remember her as she once was

if she ever 

was what I imagined her to be

and am grateful for

the mercy killing of the shrinking rose

 

 

erin-cilberto

6-9-25

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Just love the repetitive line there it’s fabulous
What a fantastic write

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Julie. I appreciate you.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

A mercy killing of the shrinking rose.

Sad and beautiful, the final stanza hurt to read. Remember her as she once was, to you.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind words...this one went straight to metaphor.
j.

[DIVYA]

The frost is caressing her, killing her with kindness. It wants to pay her back for all the beauty that she shared with the world. So it's being gentle, and soft. That's more than one can usually expect from human beings. I feel so sorry for that shrinking rose. This poem touched me to the core, my friend.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your understanding, kind words, Divya.
j.

[Vol]

If the shrinking rose is a powerful memory lying there at your feet, you sure don't want to step on it, or kick it to the curb. All these images are like when a lover cheats. They break you, but the love was SO big you don't know what to do with it. You forget, but there are pictures that turn up unexpectedly, so you know it was real, Over time the suffering becomes more vague, and the memories, too. Till yo open that page, and there you are again.
I think of it like this... I'm made of the brrick of every experience I've ever had. I like the building I'm in, and would never discard a single one no matter it is misshapen and off color, if i discard one, all the others shift and change...
Vol

[jacob erin-cilberto]

You always have such interesting perspective in your reviews, Vol.
thank you,
j.

[Vol]

Jacob,
Thanks, Jacob... The thing about poetry, and why it is the best genre, is it is quick to read and long to ponder... so portable, so gratifying to find their secrets...
Vol

[Desert Knave]

This one hits home as my Mom's health continues to decline. Love the repeated line's strength. ~Jim

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Lost both parents years ago...was so hard to watch them decline. I feel your pain in watching that happen to your mom, Jim.
Many prayers.
j.

[Thomas W Case]

Powerful work. Vivid and sharp.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Thomas.
j.

[Soren]

Jacob this one holds so true on more than one level. Of course the literal but metaphoric it may apply to aging or disease and euthanasia but also it may well be our memory that kills certain things too painful to recall. They remain stored away between the pages of our mind. A touching and sad read. Well done and most poetic.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind review, Soren.
j.

[DecentlyOkayWriter]

I prefer to remember her as she once was
if she ever
was what I imagined her to be
. . .
(Ouch.)

A pressed rose in a scrapbook. I have one of those, next to a picture of my friends. . this made me think about where both of those came from- if I'm doing what's best by hiding them away in a book- if the rose came from mercy. If she would have bloomed prettier if she wasn't crushed.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are quite insightful.
Thank you DOW...