Where Rambling Roses Grow

[mummsie]

This poem was triggered by a walk through our local cemetery which, like a lot of cemeteries, at one time buried unchristened babies/adults in unconsecrated ground (along with suicide victims), almost like an area of shame. I came across one tiny grave with no markings and well encased within a brier rose...

WHERE RAMBLING ROSES GROW
(c)]Sue Pearce 2015

A tiny mound lies nestled 'neath a rustic wrought iron frame
where roses ramble freely-reaching out as if to claim
the tiny soul who lay interred within a setting borne of "shame"
no cross to say who rests within-no plaque to bear a name.

And who had placed the wrought iron frame embellished by the rose?
perhaps a mother,deep in grief, who'd counted ten small toes
and held a tiny hand with no response-an angel heaven chose,
a mother left to question- Why? the answer...no one knows.

And one can see how come the spring as gentle breezes blow
and petals fall to kiss the ground, a blanket formed below,
enwrapped around the tiny mound to comfort, cherish and bestow
a love that only mothers know-where rambling roses grow.

[Neville Briggs]

Goodonya Sue. I was hoping that we could find out the colour of the rose, the design of the frame and the appearance of its patina and maybe what things covered the mound.

I used to walk through the big Rookwood cemetery in Sydney, there were some tales written over some of those graves.

[Heather]

Lots of unknown stories in old cemeteries - which you describe well Sue. I liked the image of a blanket of rose petals.

Heather

[manfredvijars]

Good work Sue ...

[mummsie]

Sorry Neville but this poem was never intended to go into such detail. It wrote itself within minutes of coming across the grave-the rose and the way it grew inspired the write.

I agree Heather-very informative places.

Thanks for popping in.

[mummsie]

Thanks Mannie

[Maureen K Clifford]

Your words are beautiful - In my mind I saw your little grave-site clearly Sue.

[Catherine Lee]

Yes I do too - I've spent many hours walking through cemeteries in the past wondering about the stories behind the headstones, and those of the very young are always extremely sad. Lovely poem Sue.

[alongtimegone]

Lovely piece of writing Sue. I could see your grave very clearly. My parents' house was close to the Balmoral Cemetery in Brisbane and I spent many hours as a boy wandering around looking at the grave sites. Sad that even in death there is so much evidence of social inequality.
Wazza

[Bob Pacey]

Only time I spent in the graveyard as a kid was to knick the glass covers off the flowers to use as fish tanks.