This is what I mean when I talk about roses

It’s neither the sun nor the waves,
neither mountains nor forests.

It’s not the boughs of our oak
in summer, when laden with leaves.

It’s neither the nightingale’s song
nor the speckle of shadows on ferns.

It’s not even the voice from your lips,
not the glimmer of gold in your hair

It’s only the attar that follows —
the wave in the wake of your presence.

A vase of roses by Vincent van Gogh

Linked to the Tuesday platform at toads

July 3, 2018

21 responses to “This is what I mean when I talk about roses

  1. Gosh this is so dreamy and romantic, Bjorn! 😊 Love “It’s not the boughs of our oak in summer … It’s only the attar that follows — the wave in the wake of your presence.” 💜

  2. Yes it is the essence isn’t it? You are waxing romantic today. I like this side of your poetry. It is not even noon and already it is 94F

  3. Damn Bjorn…that was really good. You swept us up and then through the altar. Loved this.

  4. Thorny little devils only good for one thing and that is their seductive scent. I could never understand developing roses that didn’t. They were like women and tended to scratch if you got too close.

  5. kaykuala

    It’s only the attar that follows —
    the wave in the wake of your presence.

    van Gogh is certainly captivating. no doubt about it!

    Hank

  6. I like this Bjorn, it was nice that you could relate all these nice complements to a person liked. Clever use of the word, “attar”, too. It won’t be a literal smell as you have placed it her, rather a sense of ‘her’ having been there.
    ..

  7. Yes, the way you built this tender ode up to the conclusion is just perfection.

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