"I am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valleys"
Bible, Song of Solomon 2:1
I call her Rose.
She came from Sharon,
A region in the land of Israel.
She's a Rose of Sharon tree.
You might have one of your own.
Anyway, Rose was a gift from a friend.
We planted her in our back yard and for
A couple of years, we watched her grow
And produce some beautiful blossoms.
Sadly we sold the property and moved away.
It's been more than four years now, and I am
Sure that Rose has spread her limbs and is
Now displaying some breath-taking roses.
We miss our Rose. The short While we spent
Together made us happy and proud. She was
An important part of our tree family We are
Happy for Rose's new family who must be
Enjoying her as much as we did.
It was not one thing—
not a single blade of thought
but a field of them,
thin, dry, whispering
against each other in the wind of my mind.
Morning came like a bill I could not pay.
Light pressed its hand to my face
and I turned from it,
as if the sun itself had asked too much of me.
My body—
this animal I have carried for years—
lay down in the middle of the day
as though struck,
as though it had run too far
without water.
I could name the losses
like bones in an X-ray—
each one bright,
each one undeniable—
but naming did not lessen them.
It only proved they were there.
The rooms were filled with ordinary objects—
a glass, a chair, a door half-open—
and each one seemed to say:
you must go on,
you must go on,
you must go on.
I did not want to stay.
That is the simplest truth.
But something—
not hope, not even strength—
something smaller,
a thread, a tendon, a quiet refusal
deep in the muscle of being—
held.
So I left.
Not because the world softened,
not because the pain spoke kindly,
but because somewhere in me
there was still a witness
who would not leave my body behind.
Sharon
You're more than just a lady
You're selfless, loving, kind
You've molded me with all your heart
You've opened up my mind
You taught me how to hit the notes
You taught me how to sing out loud
You taught me how to stay in rhythm
You taught me how to face the crowd
You're my companion through the stanzas
You made me sing the chorus well
Whenever there's a flat refrain
You are my hope though I can't tell
And when my lonely song fades to die
You are my hope to stay alive
When I'm afraid to cross its bridges
You're always there to be my guide
Oh Sharon, my Sharon
More than a teacher and a friend
Oh sharon, my Sharon
I hope someday we'll meet again
She sat by the window and could only ask herself why
Because she surely didn’t know even as hard as she did try
Things just suddenly fell apart with not even an end in sight
It all just broke her heart and became an insufferable plight
Days and weeks went by and soon months had passed
Now she didn’t even try knowing such things never last
And as she stared out into space something entered her mind
The simple peace of grace is what this woman started to find
And the next day was the same, but so different in a way
No longer feeling that shame she even began to pray
She felt stronger on the inside and the out
This fight was no longer for she triumphed over that doubt
She left a message though, one that you should hear
Something everyone should know, in being perfectly clear
The Lord‘s love for you is so great you could never understand
So it’s never too late as for this too He has already planned
“Just talk to Him”
The night pressed in with a velvet hand,
I was so tired, you’d understand.
All day the world had sung its song,
But not for me—I did not belong.
The streets were lit, the windows warm,
Yet none could shield me from the storm.
I wore my smile like Sharon's borrowed dress,
While hollow winds moved through my chest.
I thought of spring, I thought of rain,
Of all I loved that could not remain.
There was no anger, only release,
A soft surrender, a will toward peace.
I let the darkness close me in,
It felt like love beneath my skin.
Do not weep, for I am free—sigh,
The world was never meant for me.
They sang to stars, to flowers pale with dew,
To hearts that bled beneath the waning moon;
Yet every song they wove from sorrow grew,
Each note a dirge, each rhyme a fading tune.
The world too heavy, pressing on their soul's,
A crown of thorns their tender temples bore;
Love fled like whispers, leaving them to hold,
And silence reigned where song had dwelt before.
Oh, cruel muse, who blessed them with your fire,
Yet cursed their fragile hearts with too much pain,
You led them, blind, to cliffs of dark desire,
And cast them down in seas of endless rain.
In lonely nights, they felt the stars grow cold,
No voice to soothe the ache of barren skies,
The ink that spilled their griefs a tale retold
Of lives unlit, consumed by unseen love.
Yet still their words endure, though they are gone,
A burning flame no tempest can erase.
Through death, they live—each verse, a tender dawn,
Each line a kiss of beauty's fleeting grace.
Why did they fall? Perhaps to teach us this:
A poet's soul must brave the abyssal deep,
To find the truth in love’s elusive kiss,
And wake the world from its eternal sleep.
In religious imagery the Rose of Sharon symbolizes the maturation of a Saintly nature. The transcending power of Motherhood and its ability to restore & save.
Forgiveness is a decision
made with the heart
and not the mind
If we are to heal
then we must call upon
the power to love
It is the greatest gift
having the power to restore
and heal
The journey to forgiveness
is long and tough
but it restore & renews
Forgiveness brings love, peace & joy
like the Rose Of Sharon
it deploys only, through purpose and love.
Poor little girl,
Decided to give her life a whirl.
Thirty-one,
Still undone,
Can't see why no one thinks she's fun.
Lost in coloring books,
Her only choice in life,
Is the color of her strife.
To ad interest,
Brain surgery and epileptic fits,
"Feel my scar".
Before she has a fit!
This is not much to bring to a conversation,
So, Rose of Sharon,
Gets lost in translation.
Sharon Lee was never bothered by anyone
On her way to school, the store or anywhere else.
She has been walking by herself since she was three, bragged her mother.
Do you think it’s because she has a giant wolf for a pet? Asked her brother.
Tear by on a Friday
Doing 75 down Sharon Road
Short cut up north through the federal woods
Back here
No one knows from US-127
About the clear-cutting as far as the eye can see
Or the heads of hills chopped off and rolling
And curves of road that’ve lost their will
To bend
A mailbox shakes in my scissor wake
With no house or driveway
Making claim of it
Hangs
On to the side of the road
Choked with scrolls of yellowed paper
Its little red arm
Up
Flailing
In my rearview mirror.
In stanzas rich with life's profound embrace,
Sharon Olds wove words, a poetic grace.
Verses danced, a vibrant, candid stream,
Her pen a beacon, in reality's dream.
Through life's tapestry, her verses told,
Of love's ardor, and stories bold.
Yet, time's relentless, inevitable tide,
Embraced her gently, where poets bide.
In the quiet realm where shadows play,
Sharon's ink echoes, an eternal display.
Her legacy, a testament to art's breath,
In life and death, she conquered death.
For Aunt Sharon, my friend
I called her my aunt, but she was more
She was a friend who my heart did adore,
She was a helper in the time of need,
She was strong, yet gentle – tis’ agreed
Like a smile, she shined her light
Lifting hearts, Sharon was downright
Kind, understanding, inspiring, giving
She taught those around her about living
Like the sun, she encouraged the soul
When darkness came, she would console,
Never let a friend feel they were alone,
Some of the reasons she was called Sharon
Sharon, in Hebrew, means a fertile plain,
It is true – she gave more than a heart can contain,
She taught her children, her nieces, her house
Yes, she even taught her adoring spouse…
That love, my friend, will always win in the end
Love is alive, glowing inside – a light Sharon did tend!
My friend Sharon is the same as me as
we have decided to let it all hang free.
No more corsets or underwire
because we feel we are still on fire.
Without recourse to peer pressure
or need to take out a tape measure.
We’ve done our bit for procreation.
Now it’s all procrastination where
slimming and exercise are concerned.
A leisurely stroll is best we’ve learned.
We’re comfortable in our slack skin.
So Sharon is my “win/win” twin.
A man paid a witch for an hex
To help his wife want much more sex
They went on a cruise
Where she made the news
Obliging the men on all decks
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