The September Rose
To sighs of morning air, that froze,-
(With her lips opened for a say),
How curiously has smiled the rose
On a September fleeting day!
And how has she ever dared
To greet, with air of springy queens,
The single blue-tit, in the bare
Shrubs fleshing in the orb of wings;
To bloom with steadfast dream that later,
Just leaving her cold bed in rest,
She’ll cling, the last and dissipated,
To a young hostess’s charming breast!
poem by Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Single Black Rose
A single Black Rose to turn the tide
A single Black Rose to make one die
A single Black Rose to ensnare the soul
A single Black Rose to widen that hole
A single Black Rose to melt the heart
A single Black Rose to force a start
A single Black Rose to entwine the bodies
A single Black Rose to dictate the deaths of these
A single Black Rose to lie upon her breast
A single Black Rose to stop the tears from soaking his vest
A single Black Rose to mourn this memory
A single Black Rose to become a plot in this cemetery
A single Black Rose to take a life
A single Black Rose to end his strife.
(8/21/2007)
poem by Michael Koelliker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Bistro
Valentine's day just a few days off
it was charming how after a hefty meal
of coq au vin and greasy frites
and wine enough to raddle a pancreas
you shot that loaded straw my way
me leaving, from your battery behind
the bar. Harmlessly the paper slip fluttered by
filled, assassin, with the breath of your lips,
before coasting to rest on the floor-
well before that fine day when Loves'
dart burns the air, seeking a warm breast
in which to rest and germinate song.
Discretely, though it was late and diners
few, I stopped, picked it up, flattened it out
drew it under my nose as though it were
a rose, a scented billet doux, and dropped it
on the counter back to you who merely
bent far, far back and shook and shook
darkly with gallic laughter. The gall!
graceful, turncoat scion of pig-farmers.
Outside I smiled in the cold that turned
huffy exhalations into cirrhus wreathes,
that prank having warmed my bones to the ruddy core-
We are all just peasants with degrees,
and vowed, the coming holy day night, to return
armed with a dozen straws or so to make of mine
enemy a laughing porcupine, my memory
for these vendettas only long, but that's about it.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Rainy Wish
Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Not too long ago
A misty blue and the lillac too
A never to grow old.
A there you were under the tree of song
Sleeping so peacefully
In your hand a flower played
A waiting there for me.
I have never
Laid eyes on you
Not before
This timeless day
But you woke and whoa
Smiled my name
And you stole
My heart away
A stole my heart away little girl, yeah
All right !
Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Not too long ago
Misty blue and lillac too
A never to grow old.
Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Misty blue and lillac too
Golden rose, the color of the dream I had
Misty blue and lillac too
Gold and rose, gold are rose, gold and rose.
Its only a dream
Id love to tell somebody about this dream
The sky was filled with a thousand stars
While the sun kissed the mountains blue
And eleven moons played across rainbows
Above me and you.
Gold and rose the color of the velvet walls surround us.
song performed by by Jimi Hendrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Reality check, welcome partner
Dream! Dream! Dream!
Fly! Fly! Fly! into the blue, blue, blue skies
Then you tire your wings of dreams your wings that fly and fly into the blue skies
Then you rest and pause and fall to this rugged land
It is rough and rocky and graveled and sandy
It is hot and arid hurting your eyes your legs your feet
What you see and feel is reality
And you do not have wings now
All your dreams did not come true
In this reality, I welcome you partner.
we shall live here for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Black Single Rose.
A single black rose.
A single black rose to carry the load,
A single black rose to turn the road,
A single black rose to touch the soul,
A single black rose to widen your hole,
A single black rose to melt your heart,
A single black rose to force a start,
A single black rose to make you cry,
A single black rose to make you dry,
A single black rose to help you climb,
A single black rose to make you lie,
A single black rose to take a life,
A single black rose to take away strife.
poem by Natasha Ligons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Single Orange Rose
Here is my prose,
All based on a single orange rose,
Grave grass springing,
Church hyms their singing,
Blood stains clinging,
On my single orange rose,
No soul is laughing,
Deaths hands are clapping,
Coffin case trapping,
On my single orange rose,
Trees are branching,
My cold blank eyes are trancing,
The life cycle of death is dancing,
On my single orange rose,
I picked my final wish,
On deaths lips I kissed,
My long life I missed,
All because of that single orange rose,
COPYRIGHT 2008 BEN SPARACO POEMS
poem by Ben Sparaco
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Once Upon a Cold September
Once upon a cold September
lay ashes of last December
came stories of old friends
never to be lost
on that December
Morning came
thoughts rose
time flew on the coast
evening of September
came lies to remember
sad but true they say
never showed a face again
on that stormy winter
Once on a cold September
on a bleak December
with time to remember
poem by Kayla Koch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Froze Up (live From Webcast)
I Froze Up Lyrics
You're the light wiping out my batteries
You're the cream in my airport-coffees
I don't know why I stick with you
If I had a choice
Like lambs into the slaughter
Like cows to the storm above
You're the Genie of my lamp
I could have in anyone
But one day I froze up
But one day I froze up
But one day I froze up
But one day I froze up
Like this...
Oh, little boy...
Little boy, little boy
Oh, little boy...
Little boy, little boy
If you try to strangle the skylark
Try to cut it up, to see how it works
Stalactites and stalagmites
Rows of never open doors
Coz one day I froze up
Coz one day I froze up
Coz one day I froze up
Coz one day I froze up
I did...
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
September Sky
Cool air, September sky.
My vision bordered by trees,
Dying for the winter-
God's silent fireworks,
Brilliant reds, oranges, yellows.
There is the threat of frost in the air,
A biting chill which seeps into my clothes.
The smell of a woodstove is in the air,
Invigorating.
It is as much a part of the September sky
As the colors on the wind.
There is a stillness in the air,
Punctuated by the cries of a few lonely birds.
I look to the sky,
Clear blue, like your eyes.
I feel lost, lonely-
I am in this dream,
But you are not.
I am leaving, I know,
Leaving behind a connection of the heart
That I once was unaware of.
I am alone, September Sky.
poem by James Grengs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blue Rose
Wish I could lay my eyes on the blue rose
Aches to touch it, caress the petals
Feel its texture on my skin
Smell its fragrance and have it stored in my memory
Need to touch need to feel
Close to the blue rose
See it bloom, fully share its passion and beauty in its core
Experience the blue rose
Listen to its dance
with the wind and sky
knowing and wanting it so much
such passion
Yet where is the blue rose
never existed
only lives in my mind
hoping its real
not a dream
poem by Rita Umali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blue Rose
wish i could lay my eyes on the blue rose
aches to touch it, caress the petals
feel its texture on my skin
smell its fragrance and have it stored in my memory
need to touch need to feel
close to the blue rose
see it bloom, fully share its passion
and beauty in its core
experience the blue rose
listen to its dance
with the wind and sky
knowing and wanting it so much
such passion
yet where is the blue rose
never existed
only lives in my mind
hoping its real
not a dream
poem by Rita Umali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Women and Roses
I
I dream of a red-rose tree.
And which of its roses three
Is the dearest rose to me?
II
Round and round, like a dance of snow
In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
Floating the women faded for ages,
Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages.
Then follow women fresh and gay,
Living and loving and loved to-day.
Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens,
Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
III
Dear rose, thy term is reached,
Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached:
Bees pass it unimpeached.
IV
Stay then, stoop, since I cannot climb,
You, great shapes of the antique time!
How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you,
Break my heart at your feet to please you?
Oh, to possess and be possessed!
Hearts that beat 'neath each pallid breast!
Once but of love, the poesy, the passion,
Drink but once and die!—In vain, the same fashion,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
V
Dear rose, thy joy's undimmed,
Thy cup is ruby-rimmed,
Thy cup's heart nectar-brimmed.
VI
Deep, as drops from a statue's plinth
The bee sucked in by the hyacinth,
So will I bury me while burning,
Quench like him at a plunge my yearning,
Eyes in your eyes, lips on your lips!
Fold me fast where the cincture slips,
Prison all my soul in eternities of pleasure,
Girdle me for once! But no—the old measure,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
VII
Dear rose without a thorn,
Thy bud's the babe unborn:
First streak of a new morn.
VIII
Wings, lend wings for the cold, the clear!
What is far conquers what is near.
Roses will bloom nor want beholders,
Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.
What shall arrive with the cycle's change?
A novel grace and a beauty strange.
I will make an Eve, be the artist that began her,
Shaped her to his mind!—Alas! in like manner
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Old Letters
Last night some yellow letters fell
From out a scrip I found by chance;
Among them was the silent ghost,
The spirit of my first romance:
And in a faint blue envelope
A withered rose long lost to dew
Bore witness to the dashing days
When love was large and wits were few.
Yet standing there all worn and grey
The teardrops quivered in my eyes
To think of Youth's unshaken front,
The forehead lifted to the skies;
How rough a hill my eager feet
Flung backward when upon its crest
I saw the flutter of the lace
The wind awoke on Helen's breast!
How thornless were the roses then
When fresh young eyes and lips were kind
When Cupid in our porches proved
How true the tale that Love is blind!
But Red-and-White and Poverty
Would only mate while shone the May;
Then came a Bag of Golden Crowns
And jingled Red-and-White away.
Grown old and niggard of romance
I wince not much at aught askew,
And often ask my favourite cat
What else had Red-and-White to do?
And here's the bud that rose and sank,
A crimson island on her breast--
Why should I burn it? Once again
Hide, rose, and dream. God send me rest.
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When September Arrives, Again
September arrives and Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
September arrives,
And the sky loses brightness.
Winds start to whip...
Leaves off of trees.
I use to wonder,
Why I heard thundering...
As it rained to bring a change to things.
September seems erratic and dramatic.
Shifting as it does...
To prepare all for the Winter.
Children return to school,
As cool winds descend.
September has come back,
Again...
So quickly.
September arrives,
And Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
When September arrived.
And Autumn began,
With winds again.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
As Autumn began,
With winds again to begin.
When September arrived.
When September...
Arrived!
When September,
Arrives...
Again.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ballet Of Lips
BALLET OF LIPS
esspeecee [21.03.09.]
Your lips…
Wanting. What?
To say
Rose buds…
Oh dear
Bloom for us.
Your lips
Saying go not
In stealth
O Rose buds
We’re for your
Blooming blush.
Your lips
Waiting to
Murmur the
Subtle melody
Of just bloomed
O you
Rose bud.
When lips make
Ballet movements
Singing in chorus
With melody of
Music of fragrance
O you
Rose bud.
Let me stand
Like a trunkless rock
On me the rose tree
And your subtle
Foot prints
I’ll embosom
O you - Rose bud
Oh you - Of yours.
Copyright reserved by the Author
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fairy Bridal-Hymn
[This is the hymn to Eleanor, daughter of Mab and a golden drone, sung by the Locust choir when the fairy child marries her God, the yellow rose]
This is a song to the white-armed one
Cold in the breast as the frost-wrapped Spring,
Whose feet are slow on the hills of life,
Whose round mouth rules by whispering.
This is a song to the white-armed one
Whose breast shall burn as a Summer field,
Whose wings shall rise to the doors of gold,
Whose poppy lips to the God shall yield.
This is a song to the white-armed one
When the closing rose shall bind her fast,
And a song of the song their blood shall sing,
When the Rose-God drinks her soul at last.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Lilly
a scarlet rose,
standing in the crowd
its one of them
it doesn't stand out
it's like the rest
it's not the best
it's just a rose
like the rest
but then comes
the gardener
that planted them all from the start
he says
i'll trade you in for a lilly, if you'll bloom
and now the rose has the choice
using it's symbolic voice
to go on being a rose, or become a lilly and bloom
if just does that for him
no more worries, not problems
and so it makes the choice to swap the life of a rose
he dives into some water and blooms into a lily
and it that sense it's died
and it came back up and yes it didn't cry
for now it was lilly, and now it's life was pretty
no longer is it a scarlet rose
standing in the crowd
it's not one of them
it does stand out
from the rest
it's in of the best, worlds
it's not just a rose
like the rest
it's a lily
poem by Mona Willis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Leonainie
Leonainie--Angels named her;
And they took the light
Of the laughing stars and framed her
In a smile of white;
And they made her hair of gloomy
Midnight, and her eyes of bloomy
Moonshine, and they brought her to me
In the solemn night.--
In a solemn night of summer,
When my heart of gloom
Blossomed up to greet the comer
Like a rose in bloom;
All forebodings that distressed me
I forgot as Joy caressed me--
(LYING Joy! that caught and pressed me
In the arms of doom!)
Only spake the little lisper
In the Angel-tongue;
Yet I, listening, heard her whisper,--
'Songs are only sung
Here below that they may grieve you--
Tales but told you to deceive you,--
So must Leonainie leave you
While her love is young.'
Then God smiled and it was morning.
Matchless and supreme
Heaven's glory seemed adorning
Earth with its esteem:
Every heart but mine seemed gifted
With the voice of prayer, and lifted
Where my Leonainie drifted
From me like a dream.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Battle Flag for M lady Tara
November: Yet a single bloom
still flaunts herself defiantly.
A splash of red against the gloom
of a depressing dark grey sky.
A scarlet rose last of its kind
Contemptuous of the morning frost
as if on purpose to remind
us that the battle is not lost.
Until the last survivor dies
then winter can claim victory
Though we need not believe its lies
defeat is only temporary
Next year the rose will bloom again.
A promise which can’t be broken.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!