En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Rose is without an explanation; She blooms, because She blooms.

quote by Angelus Silesius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is A Rose...

There Is A Rose...

There is a rose that blooms for me
Tucked away so quietly
Hidden for only my eye to see
And holding on to my heart's key
There is a rose that blooms for me

There is a rose that blooms for you
Just beyond your loving view
Waiting to be born anew
Waking to your heart's cue
There is a rose that blooms for you

13 Jan 2008

poem by JoJo Bean
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Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose

Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose) it
blooms in my heart that rose(upon
me that grows, no matter where I leave
my heart dear(it loves on me to grow.
Bound up in thorns my love, I lay on beds
of them forever waiting to grow, with you
dear, as I bend to smell, that one red rose.

My heart is your rose, it climbs, and beats
when pricked, by the thorn, to be carried up
to every rose on the bush.My rose, your heart,
it blooms in love, each beat lifts to crown the
the heart, as the sun heats them both, to feed
each root that folds my heart back into the rose.
Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose;

poem by Is It Poetry
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A Rose in the heart of rose

A Rose In The Heart Of Rose
it blooms in my heart
that rose upon me that grows,
no matter where I leave my heart
dear it loves on me to grow.
Bound up in thorns my love,
I lay on beds of them forever
waiting to grow, with you
dear, as I bend to smell, that one red rose.

My heart is your rose,
it climbs, and beats
when pricked, by the thorn,
to be carried up
to every rose on the bush.
My rose, your heart,
it blooms in love, each beat lifts to
crown the the heart, as the sun heats them
both, to feed each root that folds
my heart back into the rose.
Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose

poem by Anees Akbar
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New Zealand

good news from Rose
a flower blooms in her garden
i am not sure what it is
she is in a hurry
she jumps with joy and she hangs up

a miracle, a miracle she calls me
i do not know i refuse to know

we have been unlucky here
and faithless
but we do not mind anymore

Rose is happy and that is enough
whatever it is
she deserves it

a flower blooms in her garden
and she concludes
it is God-given.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kissed by a Rose

Kissed by a rose
With all the thorns
My eyes become large
And I can see a glow
I see you
Standing there by your grave
I walk slowly over to it
I kiss the rose
One more time
But my lips are cut
So my blood drips onto the rose
I plant the rose
On top of your grave
It blooms with red roses
Little droplets of blood
Dripping from the leaves
The light that you shine
Can be seen
You walk to the roses
And your light
Hits the blooms just right
I lay down on your grave
My power
My pleasure
My pain
I feel all of it
At the same time
Ive been kissed by a rose
On a grave

poem by Allison Unknown
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Behind The Veil

The withdrawing bees sit on the blooms,
Dusts of yellow fall and start to groom,
The prosecuted flowers, accused of waywardness,
The bees are brought to identify, the lady pregnant,
Points the finger at one, who is in prime,
To take care her deposit in the silent shrine,
Bees get off guard, wrong genetic code,
The community of bees not to want to ride,
And conspire to keep the blooms on guard,
Each matured flower to be covered,
From the wavy petals to the leggy stem,
Just an opening for the rays to peep in,
The blooms on cover, not to attract the bees,
The blooms watch and enjoy exclusive.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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What The Heart Of The Poet Said To The 'Bulletin

Tell me not in future numbers
That our thought becomes inane,
That our metre halts and lumbers,
When the Wattle blooms again.

Lies of great men all remind us
We can challenge and restrain
Such attempts to bluff and blind us,
When the Wattle blooms again.

Therefore take our gage of battle!
Freedom reasserts her reign:
We are not dumb, driven, cattle
When the Wattle blooms again.

Doubtless ANSWERS, weekly, daily,
Adding to his heap of slain,
Feels a jar, when Nature gaily
Bids the Wattle bloom again.

Nocent censor! time thou learnest
All this contract may contain —
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
But the Wattle blooms again.

Time may change this loyal journal
From religious to profane,
But a rhythmic law eternal
Makes the Wattle bloom again.

Trust no Flossie, howe'er pleasant,
Sweeps are treacherous, totes are vain;
Banks and scrip are evanescent,
But the Wattle blooms again.

Cultivate no fair ideal;
Own no country-seat in Spain;
All these things must go to Sheol,
Whil'st the Wattle blooms again.

Czar, and Pope, and Dei Gratia
Pass like phantoms of the brain
Never so our bright acacia,
For the Wattle blooms again.

Thus you see, austere and lonely,
Sailing o'er Life's solemn main,
One great fact is certain only —
That the Wattle blooms again.

poem by Joseph Furphy
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Love shifts by the successor

Flower that blooms at sunrise
Stays and withers at sunset.
Next day, another one does.
Love that blooms every time
Withers soon for the next one.
06.10.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mid Summers Rose

when a rose blooms out at sunset in
the mid summers evening light it is said that a new miracle had come
june 20th,2011
the day that had changed my life for the better
a friend that i never thought i'd be able to find
has come to me
tearing me from this storm that i had thought was my life forever
you had come and showed me that life has its ups and downs
you showed me a way to get past my fears
past my depression
into a life that i now dedicate to honoring you
when a rose blooms out at sunset in
the mid summers evening light it is said that a new miracle had come
And the miracle it had brought was you

poem by PenelopeCrews Pitstock
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Alankar(Decor) -36

Making Of A Rose(Triolet)

Just making of a rose a Rose
Cuts and folds plastic or paper
Then paints with all pink rouged a Rose
Just making of a rose a Rose

Blooms, scents, charms rosy Rose her rose
Thorns and scissors-they don't differ
Just making of a rose a Rose
Cuts and folds plastic or paper

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Once

I SET a lily long ago;
I watched it whiten in the sun;
I loved it well, I had but one.
Then summer-time was done,
The wind came and the rain,
My lily bent, lay low.
Only the night-time sees my pain—
Alas, my lily long ago!

I had a rose-tree born in May;
I watched it burgeon and grow red,
I breathed the perfume that it shed.
Then summer-time had sped,
The frost came with its sleep
My rose-tree died away.
Only the silence hears me weep—
Alas, lost rose-tree! lost, lost May!

The garden's lily blows once more;
The buried rose will wake and climb;
There is no thought of rain and rime
After, next summer-time.
But the heart's blooms are weak;
Once dead for ever o'er.
Not night, not silence knows me seek
My joy that waned and blooms no more.

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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The Black Rose

from a crevice of a rock
a black rose grows

it blooms on dark dreams
its petals are the ones that you do not ordinarily
see in the morning

the sun sometimes pays attention
to its being unusual
not being just any rose in the garden

it gives it more light hoping that someday
it may become white

the black rose is faithful
until it wilted

the dews miss it: the black rose is true
to its nature.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovers Or Friends?

Love is like a wild red rose
Friendship, like an apple tree
The apple tree is dark when the red rose blooms
But which will bloom predominantly?
The wild red rose is sweet in Spring
Its Summer blossoms scent the air
Yet wait 'til Winter's finally here,
Will the red rose still be there?

poem by Gloraly Gomez
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Rose at Nightfall

"God wants to know the divine goodness in us." Thomas Merton

Red rose flames
in shade of day's end.

night sifts gently
through dark trees;

but the rose!
the rose yet blooms;

defies the fall
of night's certain pall.

poem by Steven Federle
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Cyclical

CYCLICAL

life blooms
so blooms flowers
fragrance spreads
by wind
wind creates ripples
on rivers and seas

howling seas on beaches
murmurs of the river
brings people around
dwelling spreads
far and near

man’s greed’s so high
want to reach the sky
cracks hole in ozone-layers
that changes weather
the thought of doomsday
all around brings sigh

when reason wins over greed
man’ll go for your lotus feet
trees will grow forest spread
rivers flowers birds sing to greet
everlasting praise of Nature

life blooms
so blooms flowers
fragrance spreads
by wind
wind brings ripples
on rivers on seas
peace prevails all over

Rajkumar @Singapore
09-07-2009
@Rajkumar Mukherjee

poem by Rajkumar Mukherjee
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An Open Secret!

Can you unfold rose bud as naturally as it is?
Sun flower blooms by the sight of Sun all days;
Lily flower blooms by the sight of Moon all days.
Is it possible to do so by me or your presence?

Nature does wonder we cannot even imagine!
Seeing Nature many things are created often;
But all delicate things can man do as Nature?

Natural expression has a value of its own sure;
Learning and doing things are different matter;
Same thing happens in the creativity of poetry.

All things happening in Nature are great wonders;
But who does care to note things of beauty in Nature?
Divine spirit present in all things of Nature is clear; but
Ignorance of man fails him to realize this open secret!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Petal of a Rose

A whole forest of them,
Or just a single petal of a rose,
Is enough,

Grasp it in my hand,
Grasp it I shall,
In hurricanes or normal rainy days,
It won't leave my caring palms,
That one petal of a rose,
To remind me of the rose in all her beauty,

But the rose is gone,
In some other forest some place far,
A forest forbidden to me,
There it blooms without me,
Only because of this fool's mistake,

So please do not escape or leave me,
Petal of a rose,

poem by Paurakh Shrestha
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Lullaby

The maple strews the embers of its leaves
O'er the laggard swallows nestled 'neath the eaves;
And the moody cricket falters in his cry--Baby-bye!--
And the lid of night is falling o'er the sky--Baby-bye!--
The lid of night is falling o'er the sky!

The rose is lying pallid, and the cup
Of the frosted calla-lily folded up;
And the breezes through the garden sob and sigh--Baby-bye!--
O'er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie--Baby-bye!--
O'er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie!

Yet, Baby--O my Baby, for your sake
This heart of mine is ever wide awake,
And my love may never droop a drowsy eye--Baby-bye!--
Till your own are wet above me when I die--Baby-bye!--
Till your own are wet above me when I die.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Carolina

Carolina
Her tears are falling like the spanish moss
Disappearing
Into beauty found in beauty lost
So it goes
The summer blooms and fades away
Like moonlight falling on a bed
And there can be no solice in remembering
The words we never said
Faded postcards
Of all the places she loves best
Take her far away
As she presses wrinkles from her cotton dress
So it goes
The summer blooms and fades away
Like moonlight falling on a bed
And there can be no solice in remembering
The words we never said
So it goes
The summer blooms and fades away
Like moonlight crashing to the earth
And there can be no solice in remembering
The way things never were

song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arborea Blooms

Amid bloomed white arboreas,
the twirping cardinal elates,
the foliage play while altheas,
adorn his song of cloudless fair,
the silver stream flowing relates,
upon same route and obligates
abyss to quaff tweedled ideas,
while blooms in light will oscillate.

The forest -look- embraces all,
white flow'rs that roil in ether's haze,
the randomness of light's befall,
air's blooms adorn this lavish ball,
clothe foliage's infinitely grace,
nuptial embroidery, white lace,
while streams flow to abyss' odd call
blooms celebrate air's nymphal phase.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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