The Poetry in White Roses, by Nancee Cline

Pressed Between Light and Memory, by Lorie Taylor (USA) 2026. Used with permission of artist. Click image for artist site.

The Poetry in White Roses

Tall vase of Hawaiian flowers: pink 
and crimson bougainvillea, 
a gathering of greens: banana frond,
 
braille leaf with tiny raised bumps, 
red heart anthuriums, perfect Valentines,
that hardly look real, but are.
 
The centerpiece consists of three white roses,
a quiet white, eye of the color storm.
Stepping nearer I see white petals with cream 
 
spiraling into the middle, and gold flecks.   
Roses are not Hawaiian; missionaries
and ship captains brought them to the islands,
 
the Old Garden roses, green roses 
from China, and the pink lokelani.
Of course, the Hawaiian queens loved them.
 
I move closer a few steps at a time, 
until eventually I see the roses are made 
from pages torn from a book,
 
ruffled with printed words circling
down into the center, music notes 
along the outside edge, and golden spots. 
 
Fragments of rose poems flow 
through me like fragrance, TS Eliot, Mary Oliver, 
Ted Kooser, and then stop at Rainer Maria Rilke
 
because of his strange relationship with roses. 
He lived alone in a castle in Switzerland, 
befriending Old World roses in the castle garden,
 
nurturing, and writing about them in letters 
and in verse. Wounded by thorns one day, 
the cut festered, he fell ill, 
 
and ten days later, he was dead.
This tenderest of poets left this world 
believing he died of roses.

Nancee Cline

Nancee Cline is a lifetime lover of the written word.  She has published poetry, a children’s book, and a history book on Hawaii.  She holds a master’s degree in Interdisciplinary Humanities. She has tutored and taught most of her life, both in California and Hawaii.  Today Cline lives with her husband on the Big Island. When not reading or writing, she dances hula, bakes peasant bread, and gardens her half acre of wild green.  Her new chapbook is Blurry Things.