ivor or ivor.e hogg

(7/4/1934 / Hebburn.Co Durham U.K)

The Wilted rose.Story poem.



A wilted rose recalls to me.
A sad but cherished memory
Of one I loved.
Who loved not me.

I found it accidentally
in keepsakes which were left to me.
By one I loved
Who loved not me.

I wonder why she kept the rose
She had her reasons I suppose.
The one I loved.
Who loved not me.

Perhaps that’s why I never wed.
She wed another in my stead.
The one I loved.
Who loved not me.

I think perhaps she obeyed
A bargain that her father made.
The one I loved.
Who loved not me.

I am convinced that secretly
She loved me in reality.
The one I loved.
Loved me truly.


And that she wed unwillingly
The man she wed instead of me.
Did her duty
Reluctantly..

That’s why she left the rose to me.
I keep it with me constantly.
The only way
that she could say.

What she could not say openly.
The withered rose is telling me.
The one loved
Also loved me.

My life is drawing to its close
I shall be buried with the rose.
Laid on my breast.
My last request.

To those who come to bury me.
The withered rose will always be.
A mystery
To all but me.

Monday,14 November 2011
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.

Submitted: Monday, November 14, 2011
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  • Unwritten Soul (11/21/2011 9:27:00 AM)

    Sad and touch my emotion deeper, i feel to get wilt like the rose...now i know why the rose never fresh in your chest, there's lot of sad memory it absorbed...Ivor, i wish the rose will always warming you with the perfume it left..Such a touching and beautiful write i have read..Amazing emotion spread to the air and it reached my soul..I love this writing, with more hope i really i say..never stop writing, this is the song that you always can hold in every moment, to remember and to share with all of us..i like it Ivor! _Unwritten Soul (Report) Reply

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