Rose (a poem of words with images) by Greta Voeller

Melbourne-based writer Greta Voeller shares some intimate moments with her friend Rose…


at a tiny sushi bar

she pierced her eyes like heavy marbles

four to six tables

no words were shared.


Inked and rusted,

she wears the world around her finger

defeated by the anger

of not knowing who she´ll be.


Remembering thee solemnly,

we danced as tribals around the ego

unbeknownst I stepped into that cathedral

just to behold my memory.


I once told her I am not a daughter

she recalled ´I was once a mother´,

transcending the agony of loss

we live as attained and unattainable.


Do not be fooled by opulence

Pain won’t recycle itself,

it mends the flesh it feeds on

it is an everlasting companion.


A masquerade of cognisance,

scarring perceptions of distracted apathy

I let you lead me into cursory,



The fault lies in the ones who cry,

for all reasons at a time,

as not all wars are led by bloodshed,

not all losses retain vanquishment.


She courageously soldiers,

Secular temporalities,

with familiar countenance

yielding her canvas.


We said hello and I love you


we only meant it