I contracted Crohn's Disease in August of last year, and it led to depression that eventually was brought to a head in November, when, after parodying Poe's "The Raven" with my poem "The Pigeon," I got hit with a 10-month case of writer's block. In May I had abdominal surgery to relieve symptoms, and on August 30 of this year the block was ended by this mysterious poem I wrote at 12:15 am, which I can't even remember how I wrote and could not write it again if stripped of my memory of it and then asked to do so. Its words are simply etched into my brain and despite having scribbled it out in only 15 minutes, I can't bring myself to revise it. Anyway, tell me what you think, and be kind since it is after all my first writing in a LONG time. Consider the symbolism too!

The Rose, by AP
Aug. 30, 2004
For all who've stood by me through bad times and good

One day beyond all clarity,
A special Rose was born
From out the soil, a rarity
Without a single thorn.

So I heard from mother dear
In bedtime tales ago,
When light of day could drive off fear
And ever-present woe.

I look still for that Rose today
In Gardens of the skies;
Where tranquil, cloudless meadow lay
No thornless flower lies.

Yet I shall not see clarity
Until with eye forlorn,
I see that precious rarity
Without a single thorn.

But mother says I search too far
By travelling the skies;
For with us, not upon some star
The finest flow'r resides.


I'm also thinking about writing this in a birthday card for a female friend I met a few days before who was probably the inspiration for it. Good idea or bad?