Related quotes
You cannot own or disown
Life is not a bed of rose,
Nor a bed of thorn either.
Both mixed, it’s of no use.
Can you own and disown life?
When it pricks is your chance.
02.08.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where Are Your Roses
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
A blooming rose pricks me with its horn andI let a cry sweet,
”Oh rose I love you”.
In this garden of pests and reptiles
Who grows this rose of just one thorn?
That is born to prick me alone?
Never do I get an answer
But the gardener throws a smile at me.
He thinks that I love this rose.
An idea springs off at last and
An answer redeems me at times.
There is no rose without a thorn.
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thorn In My Side
Thorn in, my side.
And you live just to pull me down.
Rusted, nail I stepped on.
This infection.
Thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to sit down,
stay down.
The things you, want but dont get.
Is that fair, I dont think so.
A sure thing, you can count, on.
A big depression.
A thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to.
Your praise, is two faced,
And youre,
youre cut down,
my friend.
Cut Down.
(One, two, three, four by Sergio Vega)
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Thorn and Hate
there is heart springs thorn
there is growth of hate
you plant the thorn
you sow seed of hate
will you cultivate the thorn
or fertilize that hate
I don't want to harvest thorn
you cause me to hate
my heart's never gone from thorn
you always add that hate
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Parting is forgetting
The good things I did to her remind me.
The reluctances shown by her pricks me.
Her concessions given to me reminds her.
My overt actions shown to her pricks her.
Both set to forget each other, parting.
15.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Memories
Ah, sweet memories from long ago
wove in a mysterious way
into the present time we live.
They surface everyday.
They were dormant for so many years
lying in repose,
never knowing the force they held
like the thorn beside a rose.
It pricks the skin that presently bleeds
and imbeds itself in your heart.
The memories awaken and come alive
and then they play their part.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Romeo: Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
line from Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene 4 by William Shakespeare (1597)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Little Sister
(m. shuman-d. pomus)
(b) - (e) - (gm) - (f) - (c9) - (f7) - (gm7)
(bþ) little sister wont you (eþ) please, please, (bþ) please
Little sister dont you (eþ) cheat on (bþ) me
Little sister dont you (eþ) kiss me once and twice
Say its very nice and then you (gm) run (f)
(eþ) little sister dont you (c9) do what your (f) big sister (bþ) done
Well, I (b) dated your big sister
And I (e) took her to a show (b)
I (e) went out for some candy
Along came jim dandy
And they (f) snuck right out the door
Little sister wont you please, please, please
Little sister dont you cheat on me
Little sister dont you kiss me once and twice
Say its very nice and then you run
Little sister dont you do what your big sister done
Evry time I see your sister
Seems shes got somebody new
Well, shes mean and evil
Like that little old boll weevil
Got to try my luck with you
Sister wont you please, please, please
Little sister dont you cheat on me
Little sister dont you kiss me once and twice
Say its very nice and then you run
Little sister dont you do what your big sister done
Well, now I used to pull your pigtails
And I pinched your turned-up nose
Baby you been a-growin
Yes, its been a-showin
From your head down to your toes
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Only One Horrible Thorn
I like to cry and throw a fit
Even the dark day I was born
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I did not like people around
I would sit, curse at them and scorn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
My heart could never feel the love
Deep inside I felt sad and torn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
People still tried to get close to me
I would open my mouth and warn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I will never show a smile
This is an oath that I have sworn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
But the day will come, I will die
Then haunt people after they mourn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
poem by Paul Celano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why blame the thorn?
Why blame the thorn
the rose needed it..
when a bud
to protect from plucking hands
when blossomed
safe from suckling bands
the rose slept
while the thorn crept
wildly adept
upon the petalling fingers
when the rose aged
and sees no reason
for the thorn's missions
now the rose
ready to free
from the plant
and adorn the world
hates the thorn
that accompanies it.
poem by Lalitha Iyer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A highly valuable chain of thoughts
HAD cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
No man would be a funker
Of whin, or burn, or bunker.
There were no need for mashies,
The turf would ne'er be torn,
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn.
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
The big trout would not ever
Escape into the river.
No gut the salmon smashes
Would leave us all forlorn,
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn.
But 'tis an unideal
Sad world in which we're born,
And things will 'go contrairy'
With Martin and with Mary:
And every day the real
Comes bleakly in with morn,
And cigarettes have ashes,
And every rose a thorn.
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
7 Weeks
Go
So your still the same, there's nothing left in me
Do you really think that we could save this?
Now get off your feet and really do something
Do you really think it matters anyway?
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn
Take your pills so you can feel more of this and more of me
Don't shut that door in my face
Do you really it matters?
Do you really think it matters anyway?
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn out of my side
My side, my side
Take your thorn out of my side
My side, my side
Take your thorn out of my side
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn out of my side
Side
Go
song performed by by Inme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Beauty
I pricked my finger on a thorn
and saw my blood run red.
I winced but focused on the rose
beside the thorn instead.
For pain is nothing compared to beauty.
It's just a temporary phase.
But the rose beside the thorn that hurts
is worthy of all praise.
I pressed the rose inside my book
so that it would last.
I saw the thorn that pricked my finger
but the moment of that had passed.
For lasting pain recedes in time
but beauty stays with you.
Now as I reopen the book once more
It's only the beauty I view.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lover's Quarrels
JOIN hands, my dear, clasp long and close and fast,
Even this present we shall soon call past,
And lay among the unforgotten days,
Not the less loved because they could not last.
Make haste to put our hasty words away,
And hide them with dead leaves of yesterday,
Cast them aside among forgotten things,
Keep the love warm that turns to green life's grey.
Each little thorn that pricks these present hours
Is sure to hide under our memories' flowers,
Till we shall say, turning the dry wreath over,
'How sweet they were--these dear dead days of ours!'
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Every Rose Has Its Thorn
[Originally by Poison]
We both lie silently still in the dead of the night
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart inside
Was it somethin' I said or somethin' I did
Did my words not come out right
Tho' I tried not to hurt you
Tho' I tried
But I guess that's why they say
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Yea it does
I listen to your favorite song playin' on the radio
Hear the DJ say love's a game of
Easy come and easy go
But I wonder does he know
Has it ever felt like this
And I know that you'd be here right now
If I could have let you know somehow I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Though it's been a while now
I can still feel so much pain
Like the knife that cuts you
The wound heals, but the scar, that scar remains
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
So I hear you've found somebody new
And that I never meant that much to you
To hear that tears me up inside
And to see you cuts me like a knife, I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
If you are injured by a thorn, you will be healed by a thorn.
God Here I Am
Had walked the path
Had climbed this rocky mountain
Had done with boulders
Had done with thorn pricks
Here I am on my knees
Up the stars twinkle
Up the moon gives a wink
Up the clouds clear, feathery soft
Up my arms in supplication
Here I am in between peak and sky
Voyages were done
Voyages of a lonely soul seeking
Voyages of time and space clouded
Voyages where tunnel lights dimmed
Here I am in peak and a cliff dead bones below!
God here
God there
God for peace
God of fate
Here I am your timely message I trumpet
Here my little wings will do
Here my blood vessels will do
Here my Trumpet will do
Here my soul will fly and call for wisdom
Here at the peak I am yours as made be!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!