She had already allowed her delectable lover to pluck that flower which, so different from the rose to which it is nevertheless sometimes compared, has not the same faculty of being reborn each spring.
quote by Marquis de Sade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Petal Game
pick a flower
to play the petal game
pluck a petal
he loves me
pluck a petal
I don't love him
pluck a petal
he keeps getting closer
pluck a petal
I keep pushing him away
pluck a petal
he is always around me
pluck a petal
I hide away from him
pluck a petal
he is always protecting me
pluck a petal
I just punch him in the gut
pluck a petal
he never seems to get it
pluck a petal
I really hate his guts
pluck a petal
he just really bugs me
pluck a petal
I need a new flower now
pick a flower
to play the petal game
poem by Amber Lyn Charneski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hot Kiss
i want
one kiss
for rose flower
the flower say
soory
'hai..kiss me
i am your lover'
i am saying for
rose flower
'you did not my
lover...go out'
Saying rose.
at same time one
ugly butterfly come
with kiss on rose
red lips...
with hot...
my heart hunt...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tale Of Another Selfish Giant
you ruffian, Oscar,
what are you doing
on the wall
of my garden?
do you not see
the warning signs all over?
Sir, I’ve done what
I need to
and I’m climbing over
to jump back to open space
on my side of the earth
you scoundrel, Oscar,
you surly boy -
did you pluck the flower
the red red rose
so precious and rare?
Sir, I did indeed pluck
the flower
the red red rose
so precious and rare;
and I slipped
through your daughter’s
window
and stole a kiss
as she lay sleeping
and put the rose in the vase
on the side table by her bed;
and I feel now she awakes
and glowing with joy at seeing
the red red rose
so precious and rare,
she blows me a kiss
in this morning’s cool air
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love to nature
Don't look a flower
Without an heart of a lover
Don't pluck out of a flower
Without a mind of a lover
poem by Ashraf v Hussain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A flower to kiss
Aflower to kiss,
the flower yet to be flowering
So cute but not yet cluttering
in the bowl, the flower is the sent
The yet beautiful but greatly cute
The flower, flowering a glory
Then, now the smell is the scent
Glory, glory is the name
The rose flower standing amiss
The rose flower that tantalises
In the midst of the green garden
Such a light in the natural eyes
The golden eyes sparkling
In the flower, so flowered
In the flower, yet to kiss
So eyes get the truth
In the flower of the days
Each day, tomorrow and yet to reborn
The world flower, flowered, flowering
And the flower, flowered yet to kiss
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wither, Im A Flower
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
So city is my sister
And country is your brother
Learn to lose your battles
Cryin' on a shoulder
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
Whether, I'm a lover
Wither, I'm a flower
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To my Valentine,
The only way,
I've known this day,
Is to wish Mumma 'Valentine's Day'
On my own when I woke up early,
Managing my hairs, pillow made them curly;
Rubbing my eyes, putting my glasses,
Without my slippers, running on the grasses.
Just to pluck the brightest rose,
(thinking) To my first Love, this red rose goes.
To the one who have loved me more than anyone,
Right from the day when I was born,
And everyday her love goes stronger,
Even compared to Dad, her love's nine months longer.
But,
today I've plucked two,
One for her and one for you.
She easily knows sadness in my laugh,
Yes in my No.
And then makes my worry look dwarf,
Drive them away with just a blow.
I expect somewhat same love from you,
And I believe you deserve rose no. two,
Thanks for being so tender and affectionate,
Thanks for scolding me when I got late.
Thanks for being the first to kiss on my lips.
Thanks for giving me a place in your left ribs.
Thanks for understanding all my excuses.
Thanks for tolerating all my abuses.
Thanks for patting me on my successes,
Thanks for sharing moment on my looses.
This Valentine made me realize how lucky I am,
But still there's love of another person, I want to claim.
Sorry Sweetheart,
But I want to pluck yet another rose,
Love for another girl in my heart has aroused.
You loved me so much and I'm the culprit,
And for my fault I don't even expect you to forgive me.
-------
I wish to pluck Rose no. three,
For our daughter the third one would be.. ;)
- Platonic Piyush
poem by Platonic Piyush
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Laughter
Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flower
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it
droop and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of
pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am
aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower
in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Rose Of Love
Red rose for my lover,
Red love from her heart;
Red rose from my lover,
Red love from my heart;
Red rose,
Red heart,
Red love,
Red flower,
To praise the muse of her heart with roses;
Love is all around you.
A rose for me,
A rose that says more than two weeks in water;
Just like the dream that brings tow together,
My heart waits for you always.
Red rose of hearts,
red rose of love,
Like the true life in paradise;
I am living with the rose and,
I have a life to share with her.
Life is like a rose from a tree,
Visiting Canada in style;
Where i have more ice to see.
Roses of red to swim my muse with,
Together with my wife to take a trip;
This red rose is more than two weeks in water!
It is still going strong,
The roses of love on this journey;
Red rose of love,
Red hearts at peace,
Red rose of a muse that muses;
I am living in paradise on my lover's rose.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Red Rose
The red rose wept for long
Upon the autumn sad song
And then recovered from grief
And shattered the wet green leaf
The spring is there but the tears
Of lover, the autumn how bears
The little heart in search of charm
Is beating and beating and warm
The red rose is watching the gloom
Of the lover’s heart being in boom
His beloved had nodded him back
The rose from him she does not take
The nature feeling warmth is now cold
The autumn will take him in firm hold
The beauty will go leaving the scars
Of drowning moon and falling stars
The thorns will curse the rose to retreat
The red rose weeps on nature’s treat
It doesn’t matter what have gone
The rose will wait for the dawn
The spring no more helps the friend
His beauty will shatter like wall of sand
His days of life will end very soon
At morn, at noon or after noon
The rose sees autumn in the spring
A wave of sorrow his end will bring
The red rose weeps and weeps more
Upon these tears his eyes will sore
No spring can stop, no joy can amaze
With each passing moment his death he chase
So times are when autumn comes in spring
No joy can touch you no nerve can sing
February 16,2005
poem by Abdul Sattar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The happy lover
He is called the happy lover
for keeping a warm smile always on his face
even when he is feeling sad
no one will never know
and this sweet girl is everything to him
he is ready to do anything for her
a merry couple married for love
no Romio and Juliet or Antony and Cleopatra are compared to them
the happy lover told his sweetheart:
'I will always keep happy and strong just for you'
she told him:
'and I will keep smiling to the happy lover of my own'
sitting under a cherry apple tree, the happy lover said:
' you will always be my fragrant rose and the only sweet girl of mine'
truly the happy lover must be his name!
poem by Rehab Helmy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Flower Of Mine
Spring has come once more
with a gentle wind in the rays of the sun.
Here stands a little flower among the country plains.
Little flower of mine,
You’re the rose among lilies that blossoms in all its grace.
Little flower of mine
I love your radiance of red,
and your quiet strength amid the storm.
Little flower of mine,
inspite of wind and rain you grew and grew still.
Little flower of mine
you’re the apple of mine eye,
you’re the flower that never dies.
Little flower of mine,
You’re my inspiration and joy indeed.
poem by Lyndon Murray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Blue Rose!
Genetically modified flower blue rose is unique!
Rose colour gives hope of future by its very look;
Red rose is unique among flowers as it is queen
In the flower world nobody can deny having it!
Yellow rose shines bright in the long green garden
Full of many trees and other flower plants broad!
Pink rose flowers are many everywhere as border
Mainly in the botanical garden of hill stations here!
Blue rose, a new addition in the flower kingdom
Among lavender, blue bells and rare kurinjis of
Light blue, violet and ink blue colours everywhere
Stands majestic and having healing touch to all!
Rose is rose by whatever name it is called and also
Rose is rose by whatever colour it is produced ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I will love myself first
I am a flower
With a set of eight long petals
Shaped a bit long oval
Coloured sky-blue at the bottom
Turning bright-yellow at the top
And with long pollen sticks
White-headed peeping well out
I am an attraction to
Butterflies which keep probing
Me for the sweet nectar
I too attract insects
Very small in size
And which enjoy sliding into me
Along the slope of my petal
I hold for you a mild scent
That resembles the smell of jasmine
But because of the high ethanol content
In my fragrance
I smell with a fruitish tinge
While jasmine has a season to blossom
I am in blossom all through
Either it is winter, summer or raining
Lovers prefer me to rose
As I am big by look and thorn-less
Some devotees come to my bush
Every day and pluck me
And offer to Krishna
The God of the town
I appear much less in numbers
Compared to jasmine
But keep many garden corners
Smelling sweet with my
Special fragrance
I thought I am fine
And everyone else is also
Fine with me
Till that evening
Someone telling his lover
Not to pluck me
As he does not like the way I look
Next day morning
A mother was instructing
Her three year old son
Not to go near me
As my smell is allergic to him
It took just a day
For me to realize
There are so many others
Who have reasons for disliking me
Any way I cannot do anything
To change my looks
Or to change my scent
So determined was i
I will keep my colour
Looks and fragrance in tact
Whether people like it or otherwise
I will keep my glow
Whether insects get attracted or not
I am a creation of nature
I will enjoy being what I am
With all that nature has gifted me
And I will love myself first
Without bothering much
To know whether
Any one else loves me or not
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Dyeing a White Rose Black
I’m dyeing a white rose black.
Such a pretty, perfect flower it was.
Too perfect compared to me.
I’m dyeing a white rose black.
But my fingers and eyes and heart are stained,
And yet, nobody will see.
I’m dyeing a white rose black.
Nothing could ever reverse such a crime.
A black rose this rose will be.
poem by Mary Cieslak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Colorful Rose
You are not troubled with solving enigmas
O, beautiful Rose! nor do you have sublime feelings in your heart
Though you ornament the assembly, still you flower apart
In life's assembly I am not permitted such comforts
In my garden I am the complete orchestra of longing
While your life is devoid of love's passionate warmth
To pluck you from the branch is not my custom
I am not blinded by mere appearances
O, colorful rose this hand is not your tormentor
I am no callous flower picker!
I am no intern to analyze you with scientific eyes
Like a lover, I see you with nightingales' eyes
Despite your innumerable tongues, you have chosen silence
What secrets, O Rose, lie concealed in your bosom?
Like me you're a leaf from the garden of Ñër
Far from the garden I am, far from the garden we both are
You are content, but I am a scattered fragrance
Pierced by the sword of love in my quest
This turmoil within me might be a means of fulfillment
This torment, a source of illumination
My frailty might be the beginning of strength
My envy might mirror the cup of divination
My constant vigil is a world-illuminating candle
And teaches this steed, the human intellect, to gallop
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover Lover Lover
I asked my father,
I said, father change my name.
The one Im using now its covered up
With fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
Or to make some woman smile.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Then let me start again, I cried,
Please let me start again,
I want a face thats fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
I never never turned aside, he said,
I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
It was you who covered up my face.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
May it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
A shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretty Flower
Truly thou lovest pretty flowers,
For pretty flower, thyself, thou art.
May I, if tenderly I pluck thee,
Make fast thy tendrils to my heart—
Pretty Flower?
And should Fate deem thee answer, pluck me!
Would one of meager courage dare
To place the hand he feels unworthy
Upon a spotless lily, fair,
Pretty Flower?
poem by Raymond Garfield Dandridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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