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Poetry is the heart of literature. A story is fine, a poem reaches the soul quickly eliciting raw emotion, and a Poem that is story Rules!

The count down had begun! With all the emotional baggage that came with it, the year was about to be sum!

"Ten" screamed everybody as the numbers appeared on the screen to indicate final seconds of life representing 2018. People smiled and raised glasses ready to take their drinks for the first time in 2019 as others prepared to kiss looking lovingly in the eyes of a significant other.

"Nine," came the next indicator of the slowly passing year as some began a long embrace carrying their affection into the next year with sweet emotion. Resolutions had been made to take on challenges or shed vices. Determined in the moment that with this new year's birth all would look bright and inviting, his eyes grew wide with excitement and mirth, the type of happiness that laughter cannot escape.

A seed, all year growing in maturity, an arrangement that blossomed itself eventually to die for the next bouquet, an endless cycle of new beginnings! A new garden of aromas. A new type of nurture. New Year!



So much can happen in a year. The way things begin are not necessarily the way things will end. A new occupation with the promise of success and growth came his way. Eight is where he thought of things from the beginning of 2018. That new occupation came with a foreboding feeling. There was no knowledge that that feeling would grow into something other than a sweet bouquet. No, it was a new beginning for 2018! It also ended in 2018. The company was downsized right underneath. Despite the financial success his team brought to the company, they put them all out to pasture.



Commotion in the room grew in intensity as he clamored mentally away from "Eight" focusing on his wife whom he loved beyond the ability to express in words. Twenty years of marriage later, love connected them without exceptions. Never ending was the growth of their love and devotion to each other--hard, though. Twinkling in anticipations, her eyes focused on him as an image of Helen of Troy grew in his mind.

That must have been what she looked like, he thought imagining his wife's face on the legendary beauty as his waning smile grew again at her jubilation. Love, pure love eclipsed his heart and cast rose colored film upon his eyes making them only for her. Burning within anticipated the first embrace they would have in 2019, the first kiss, the first surrender...

Joanna Olson, watercolor painter.

Joanna Olson, watercolor painter.

"Six!" "Five!" "Four!"

Merriment no longer the aim of the group as it anticipated the death of the bouquet of 2018 that would nourish the seed of 2019, a motion of each person in the room as an involuntary dance began. Fun built into great expectation as all the group went up and down in a motion--appearing to be a cultural celebratory ritual! New Year celebrations ARE cultural celebrations, rituals completed each year. Why would it not be so at the end of 2018?

The dance was one of inclusion as if a mythical deity, Terpsichore, one of the nine Muses and goddess of dance in ancient Greek heritage possessed the group of synchronous bouncers to the rhythm of the numbers called. If it were, this welcomed possession led him to reflect on the past year, friends and loved ones.

TERPSICHORE, goddess of dance

TERPSICHORE, goddess of dance


His mother passed away. Seven months into 2018 on the eleventh day, he went downstairs at the alarm raised by his beloved concerning their charge, his mother. Sat his mother on a couch cold around the neck as he called emergency services. Counting stopped for him though numbers still left his lips in his voice as he realized 2018 would be the last year he shared with her, the last year they saw each other in life. Sadness engulfed him. Leaving his mother in 2018 felt like a betrayal.


"Two!" "One" "Happy New Year!"

Roaring through the group, a wave of celebration and climactic surge of jubilation came the words of the new year sang by all, him included. Tapping the glasses of all who put them forth, he wore a mask of satisfaction and joy--tears welling in his eyes as the finality of death sunk in again. 2018 had died, a bouquet of calendars, images, and memories only remained

Thoughts of all those he lost clamored for attention as he regarded those yet alive before him celebrating with him in 2019. A grandmother in 1989, a cousin in 1990, a daughter in 2010, and now his mother in 2018 were all memories and photographs alone.

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Old Bouquet New Flower

The corpse of the year gone-by counted down by billions

Lay before our feet, flowers in hand as we danced her last catillion.

Memories of what was before--the sounds and happenings flash

Unfurled the new year came in mournful grief goodbyes to old are cast.

In the grace of her embrace all the human race lived, loved, hated, and died.

She, a new year unknown, the blushing flower blooms as all of us go inside.

Will she provide more of the same or something new, hope and fear appear.

As she blooms, walk into her flowering perfume to begin with her a new year.


© 2019 Rodric Anthony Johnson


Rodric Anthony Johnson (author) from Surprise, Arizona on January 23, 2019:

attainment3649, thanks for doing so. The Black population is small, though it is the second largest racial group in the US, Whites being the largest--Hispanic being the second largest ethnicity.

Thanks for reading my writings.

attainment3649 on January 23, 2019:

I will check that link out after I check out your white privilege article. From the looks of the chart on that article the black population is small.

Rodric Anthony Johnson (author) from Surprise, Arizona on January 22, 2019:

attainment, thanks for reading and clicking on the adverts. It slipped my mind that adverts are what makes this whole thing possible at HubPages. From now on, I will remember to do that for those who post articles on this site as I read them. Sometimes an article is so interesting that I forget to even comment before I am moving to the next in a series or to write one of my own due to the inspiration it caused me.

I need to shout out to Chris Mills series, Sleepers. Go to his page and start reading. It is engaging and there are only short articles to read, though with Chris' writing it seems like I saw a movie!. The link to his profile is here:

You will get all of the series access from the profile and many more great articles. I don't follow people often, but I am a new fan.

Rodric Anthony Johnson (author) from Surprise, Arizona on January 22, 2019:

Linda, thank you so much for your sentiments. I hoped it would be seen as the narrative poem I tried to write. It is a challenge attempting to put the words in an appropriate rhythm without it seeming forced and literally awkward at times. I am trying to get past the notion that all poetry has to rhyme.

Rodric Anthony Johnson (author) from Surprise, Arizona on January 22, 2019:

Kristen, thanks for reading and commenting. I think that flowers represent what most of us can relate to in beauty, life, and death. Life can be so sublime at times that we hate to see those portion wither and die. It is good that we have so many more sublime portions of life left while acknowledging all the barrenness in between as we wait for them to grow again.

Rodric Anthony Johnson (author) from Surprise, Arizona on January 22, 2019:

Eric, I remember that tradition occurring in my home every year! I had forgotten about it until now. My wife and I do not carry it on. If I am correct, a man had to visit your home to bring in prosperity. I know I spent a few visits to relatives at my mother's request. I am not sure if there is more to it than that. Thanks for reading and reminding me of a heritage I had forgotten about.

Rodric Anthony Johnson (author) from Surprise, Arizona on January 22, 2019:

Pamela, thanks for reading and commenting. It was such a search to find the flower pictures that I thought would suit this narrative poem.

attainment3649 on January 21, 2019:

That was great. Beautiful ads I clicked them to help and keep supporting.

Linda Lum from Washington State, USA on January 21, 2019:

Roderic this was pure poetry, the blending of bittersweet partings and joyous anticipations, out with the old and in with the new. Thank you for sharing this with us.

Kristen Howe from Northeast Ohio on January 21, 2019:

A beautiful sentimental piece of memories gone by and how flowers can show your feelings in such an emotional heartfelt way.

Eric Dierker from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on January 21, 2019:

I liked it. Our New Year is a five day event. I spend two of the days cleaning. And then the right people must walk through our door in proper sequence. Very strange.

Pamela Oglesby from Sunny Florida on January 21, 2019:

This is a lovely way to describe the year and the use of the various flowers worked so beautifully as well. Nice article Rodric.

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