Season of Heartaches

Posted: September 8, 2011 in Ramblings of a sober Poet
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

image by Jinksy


smiles turn brittle

and our flowering love wilts

When our flaming sun loses heat

And a thousand gardens turn into cemeteries

When the Idea of us blossoming

      becomes a dry memory

crushed by

a fading infatuation.

I will endure the cold

and hold you again in

the spring


 ©Richard Quaz Roodt(2011)


This poem is linked to (Poets United:Think tank. prompt :Winter )  and d’ OpenlinkNight  And In Tandem #9 

  1. jinksy says:

    Did I just lose a comment? Sorry if you end up with two…

    To reiterate, I said “fading infatuation” is never a good state of affairs1
    Thank you for pedalling the Tandem this week. 🙂

  2. Laurie Kolp says:

    Hauntingly sad, but beautiful.

  3. nelisiwe says:

    High five!

  4. Ann Grenier says:

    You have written a beautiful poem. We still see a demonstration of hope season after returning season.

  5. Lerato says:

    It seems this love is life…though one might resent being alive,they stil walk hand in hand with their misery,cuddling with dark clouds that burst inside their faith filled embraces,hoping that this time she might smile back…then she turns away but you stil find a reason to stay…another reason to despise her,another reason to wish her away……until life opens the curtains and lets the sunshine in,all is erased,your caresses have been returned…(SPRING)…(its amazing what men can do with words,this is a great piece Quaz,Jinksy great work on the imagery,love the use of colour)

  6. Grace says:

    I like the sad and haunting lines specially:

    “When the Idea of us blossoming

    becomes a dry memory”

    I do like the hopeful ending though ~

  7. Doctor FTSE says:

    Love encapsulated. Very nice!

  8. sandra says:

    beautiful words and image!

  9. brian miller says:

    ah lovely…when it all becomes too much…i will keep going and spring will come…seasons always change…lovely…

  10. This made me think of an old married couple who will meet up again on the otherside.

  11. tashtoo says:

    I so very much love this image! And your words could not fit it better! A wonderful pen, Poet!

  12. catlas says:

    “I will endure the cold” I like that line!

  13. ayala says:

    Beautiful image! I love it!

  14. Sweet! God himself wrote this — or could have!

    Spring reigns eternal, and hope is all over this poem. Thank you!

  15. Heaven says:

    I have read this before… i like the hope in the last line ~

  16. Ravenblack says:

    A beautiful poem of love despite it all. Awesome lines.

  17. kamana says:

    fading infatutation … lovely

  18. Pervagus says:

    Despite the sadness, I feel the hope and joy of rebirth and renewal in your piece. A lovely poem.

  19. Lost love regained? Research says the average affair lasts only 10 weeks. Seems at first we project our needs and desires upon the Other. When we know them better we give it up. And hold somebody else in the springtime! Romantic read, though!

  20. Hi Richard…

    Its a soulful lament and I liked your lines…

    ‘When the Idea of us blossoming
    becomes a dry memory
    crushed by
    a fading infatuation.’

    There is always a hope… thanks for sharing..

    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    At Twitter @VerseEveryDay

  21. looking forward to reunion and love,

    enjoyed the hopefulness in this, amazing poetry.


  22. Other Mary says:

    Gardens turn to cemeteries…that’s a great image.

  23. Mike Patrick says:

    A strong statement of determination. Well written.

  24. I love this beautiful and romantic poem that ends with the promise “I will endure the cold and hold you again in the springtime”. I wish all who loved had that power of commitment and Hanging In. Just lovely.

  25. sad, and stunning imagery, haunting and fitting winter piece.

  26. David King says:

    It needed that tiny upsurge of optimism at the end. Lovely.

  27. Ella says:

    Wow! I love your take on this prompt! My favorite lines are:

    “When the Idea of us blossoming

    becomes a dry memory

    crushed by

    a fading infatuation”

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