This rosebush is someone’s dream

who lies dreamless underneath.

The sight of it now it seems

is what the sleeping bequeath.

 

More than sunlight and soil

water and worm, this rosebush

is the end of human toil

an earthly, perennial hush.

 

One day I will take the shape

of a rosebush or of grass

and gazing at my landscape

become someone’s looking glass.


R. Charboneau

Artwork: van Gogh – Rosebush in Blossom (1889)

5 thoughts on “This Rosebush is Someone’s Dream

  1. Wonderful poem, Robert. You make death sound like a serene dream that ends “the human toil”. Did the Van Gogh painting inspire you? There is an earthiness to both the artwork and your poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It did Gabriela. I was really interested in the idea that van Gogh could both paint a rosebush and become one himself (to be fair, there weren’t any rosebushes near his grave, but there were vines and ivy). I think it was reading your piece on his Auvers Wheat Field that led me to revisit his stuff. Look what you made me do!

      Liked by 1 person

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