Steven Cooke

Rookie (01-04-1958 / Sheffield)

The Window Of 2012 - Poem by Steven Cooke

The rose has framed the summer
the leaves have done their duty.
The flowers have shed their seeds
and the hedge rows offer their final feast.

This community of life will forget the rain
that killed their babes.
Nature's rage is done
the darkness of winter approaches
and sleep is what some will fear.

The bee has done his work
and death will come tonight.
Though his legacy will protect the queen.

The swallows are over the ocean
destined to follow the sun,
they are a year older
and the wet summer has taken its toll
the ocean will be grave to some.

The old man who now wears his scarf
reflects on another summer gone,
memories of youth grow distant
and his love for her lingers on.

In the city the face of humanity is blind
for they have forgotten natures laws.
Their life of work and mortgage pressure
will bleed the soul on corporate mill.

The mandatory tie is a noose
the alarm clock the wake of despair
and the rain will greet the morning rush,
dripping its sorrow on bowler hats
that feed on the drones they cover.

The autumn years will find them mute
for release from work will kill.
Life outside will be a stranger
the ant has lost his way
and up above the clock ticks on
into uncertainty and fear.

The blanket of winter has come for payment
the cold will take the weak,
But nature will hide her treasure
for hope is buried from icy grasp

The spring will heal the losses
and the rose will rise again,
her beauty will frame tomorrow.

And those who wish to look
those who admire her beauty
will flourish in her fragrance.
Their essence will join this chorus of life
the cries of the new born will fill the earth
for the circle of life is complete.

And these corrupted cities
will look away for the markets are open
feeding a mirage of wealth.
Like the magpie for shiny things
always wanting more.

Death will come in comfort things
like cigarettes and alcohol.
though pockets of gold will not follow
for heaven was lost in yesterdays gamble.

And the ants will rush for one more day
for all will be forgotten in time.
Except for the Rose
her nature cannot be bought
and she will be with us
To the end of time.

Poet's Notes about The Poem

2012 was the wettest since records began in England

Comments about The Window Of 2012 by Steven Cooke

  • Valerie Dohren (1/14/2013 10:05:00 AM)

    Another beautiful write, the rose captured in all her beauty - a lovely metaphor. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 14, 2013

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