Slow down, smell the Roses
Whoa! Friends, slow down a bit, smell the roses
And appreciate your situations.
We can’t lose sight what’s under our noses
If we do, we invite our frustrations.
Who needs that god-awful discouragement?
Not you or me, so look for the flowers,
They are there. Look around; follow the scent.
But don’t look in other people’s bowers
You have plenty more in your own backyard.
Now take a whiff and thank your lucky stars
For these gifts, you have earned this high regard.
That’s right my friends, give yourselves a cigar.
Over the years we sowed what we reaped
Its harvest time now, the roses smell sweet.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
The Song of Quoodle
They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.
They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.
The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.
The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Song of Quoodle
They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.
They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.
The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.
The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours
*
And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Sweet Mind
Sweet scent,
Sweet smell,
Sweet aroma,
Sweet mind;
Give me ear and listen to my muse,
For the muse of love is closer to you!
And like the smell of sweet scent of roses around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Addiction
Tulips…Eurasian herbs
With deep shaped cup
Close kin of Lilies
From which hummingbirds sup
Begonias…. tropical herb,
showy flowers, waxy leaves…
Besieged by legions
of honeybees
Roses…often climbing shrubs…
Fragrant blossoms filling noses
Divided leaves, prickly stems
Varietal colored, bed of roses
Lavender…Mediterranean mint
Pale purple colour
Heady perfume, to scent
Bed linen and cover
Flowers, blossoms
Predilections
Scent and sight…
Sweet addictions
Dizzying choices,
A lie down in repose
The best place to compose in…
Is no bed of roses
poem by David Whalen
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So Not Perfect
Just heard a song on the radio
a girl singing about a boy
who is not less than perfect.
Sweet.
Got me think'n bout
how I am
so not perfect.
Course none of us like
to have that truth pointed out.
Better to be wooed
with romantic gestures
and a sweet and caring smile.
Chocolate is good, too.
Some people are crazy early.
Not me.
Yeah, I know- gotta work on that.
For awhile now
it has been on my heart
to always take the time
to smell the roses.
Do you want to know a secret?
When I am alone
and I pass by flowers
on the street
or in the grocery store,
then I stop and smell the roses.
I made a decision that I never want to be
too busy to take time for that.
It is a beautiful joy of life
and one that I try to appreciate.
Too many people zip by life
and miss those little moments
that are the sweetest.
A little over a week ago
I was getting groceries one night.
I detoured to smell the many bouquets of flowers,
and honestly I was dodging that annoying guy
(the one always trying to sell me cable or something
every time I set foot in Wal-Mart) .
A young guy
about 18 or so
struck up a conversation with me
by the roses.
He spilled out his heart
about his break-up with his girl,
his dear love.
He selected the red roses
hoping to win her back.
Hoping she would forgive him.
Hoping he hadn't lost her for good.
The beautiful card
that he selected for her
and his story touched my heart.
Relationships,
like people,
are not perfect
and we all make mistakes.
When we are able to admit it
is when
we get the gold star.
poem by Julie A Smith
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Angel
** Yesterday was the anniversary of the death of my friend's sister. She died at the age of 7 from cancer. I wrote this poem in memory of her.
Smell all the roses,
For then you will smell her sweet scent.
Look up in the sky and see its beauty.
For then you will see how beautiful she was.
She is with the sun during the day and the stars at night.
Lighting up this world with her very own light.
She is watching over us smiling as we smile ourselves
For I know that bell rung a long time ago,
Because she has always been an angel in our hearts.
poem by Christina J. Williams
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Pick Me Up
There are too many roses down on the ground
There are too many people throwing them around
Every rose has a value unbound
So would you please pick them up from the ground?
There are too many people staring at the moon
And many forget when the roses will bloom
And when they do they'll be treated so rude
And they're sweet smell turns to no value
A rose is a wonderful thing to hold
It has a scent so sweet to the nose
It's filled with love and kindness so deep
But we don't appreciate a thing so sweet
Until it's gone and we're left all alone
Searching for one but they're already gone
It's like when too many people start cursing the rain
Waiting by the window and begging in vain
That the rain should come another day
While the rose savors the rain
Knowing that soon it will go away
But never knowing when it will come again
I said it before and I'll say it again
There are too many roses being thrown away
Broken in spirit and wasting away
But I see a few being treated as they deserve
Smelt with well closed eyes to savor it well
Appreciate a well colored rose
It has a scent so sweet to the nose
You'll never know when the rain comes no more
You never know when the roses won't grow
So throw them away and treat them so cold
You'll never find them when you need them the most.
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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One Who Rejects Christ
There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.
There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.
I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.
A very good thing for farmers
If they would learn my way;
For crops are all that a good field grows,
And nothing is worse than a sniff of rose
In the good strong smell of hay.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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The Smell Of A Woman
The smell of a woman,
When I am down there.
There's nothing on earth,
That quite can compare.
Earthy, moist, steamy, and rare,
Like tropical flowers perfuming the air.
The smell you find, at a womans core,
will make you want her, more, and more.
I can smell a woman across the street,
Way before our eyes will meet.
That delicate scent carried on the breeze,
Coming from a woman, seeking release.
The scent of a woman, when she is in heat,
You'll find yourself commonly looking for it.
And when I find it, it's a matter of time,
Till close up I smell that scent so sublime.
The smell of a woman all over my face,
The sweet scent of a woman, will have me crazed.
Don Juan Tenorio
poem by Don Juan Tenorio
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The smells of Football
Football has it's own smells
from the grass on the pitch
to the aroma from the Hot Dog stalls.
In the dressing room there's sweat
strong odour coming from ointments
being rubbed into aching muscles.
On the terraces you smell beer
years ago there was tobacco too
on Boxing Day the whiff of cigar smoke.
As a boy my mothers washing powder
making my kit smell nice and fresh
and getting rid of mud and grass stains.
The smell of leather of a new pair
of football boots and new ball
and layers of thick black polish.
At the half-time break in a match
onto the field came a large tray
full of sweet smelling and tasty Oranges.
These are the smells of Football
the odours of the Beautiful game
and for some the sweet smell of success.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Wish it is Funny
funny thing, i can still feel the touch of the scattered petals, white roses with red ones
funny thing, i can still hear the coo of the turle doves freed, flying high
funny thing, i can still see the golden sun slowly sinks under wide ocean
funny thing, i can still taste the sweet yet semi dry wine, passionately aromatic
funny thing, i can still smell your citrus-minty scent, soothing my senses
funny yet unfair
everything i feel, hear, see, taste, smell accompanies YOU
everything i feel, hear, see, taste, smell symbolizes you
everything that i feel, hear, see, taste, smell is not funny at all
it is bringing me black smoky background
it is bringing me delusions and hallucinations
it is bringing me confusion
funny but wish it is fair
dainty as the roses
free as the turtledoves flying nowhere
golden as the sun collided under the wide ocean
passionate as the wine
citrus-minty as your scent
wish it is
funny
poem by Shelomith Noarbe
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Rosalie
Of the sweet smell of a rose,
Of the coming of a baby into this world;
Rise up and look!
For her name is Rosalie.
A red rose into the world so sweet,
The love from a lady in red;
Red roses, red roses!
Of the pink ladies to visit the world;
Rosalie, welcome to the world so sweet.
To be born and be named Rosalie,
Dated on the 23.03.2006;
Welcome into the world so sweet!
To you the roses bloomed,
To you a joy is praised,
Mathias and Verena are your parents;
And beauty was your day of birth.
Like the sweet smell of a rose,
You were born on your grandmother's birth date;
So let the pink around you bring up the roses like,
The sweet aroma around you too.
Rosalie, Rosalie, Rosalie! !
Enter into the world so sweet and,
We will remember this day always.
You are the sweet smell of a rose,
Like the coming of a baby into this world;
For, we will rise and look!
And your name is Rosalie.
Welcome into the world so sweet,
Of the pink ladies to swing the muse like your type and,
Rest on the sweet aroma lying invisible ever around you;
For you have made our day by receiveing you into this world!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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London Roses
'ROWSES, Rowses! Penny a bunch!' they tell you--
Slattern girls in Trafalgar, eager to sell you.
Roses, roses, red in the Kensington sun,
Holland Road, High Street, Bayswater, see you and smell you--
Roses of London town, red till the summer is done.
Roses, roses, locust and lilac, perfuming
West End, East End, wondrously budding and blooming
Out of the black earth, rubbed in a million hands,
Foot-trod, sweat-sour over and under, entombing
Highways of darkness, deep gutted with iron bands.
'Rowses, rowses! Penny a bunch!' they tell you,
Ruddy blooms of corruption, see you and smell you,
Born of stale earth, fallowed with squalor and tears--
North shire, south shire, none are like these, I tell you,
Roses of London perfumed with a thousand years.
poem by Willa Sibert Cather
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Roses Are Red (Jessica)
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Honey is so sweet and so are you darling!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You've made my dreams come true!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I have my brown eyes glued on YOU!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I feel like i have known you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are so FINE that you give me the BLUES!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Lord knows that im falling for you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I just want to Rock with you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
These lips can't wait to be kissing you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I do anything to claim you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I bow down to you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I've never met anyone as HOT as you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
never knew i would meet you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I'm going to bed would you like to come too!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I rather spend my precious time with you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are beautiful as sparkling DIAMOND!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You have me speechless everytime i talk to you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
May i have this dance with you (JESSICA)
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I have mentioned your name so many time i have lost count!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I dont want no-one if i cant have you. #PERIOD
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I want to give you everlasting Joy, Happiness, and especially LOVE!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I'm the one who will make your dreams come true
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Chilli is hot and so are you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
JESSICA ITA JAMES WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Roses are red Violets are blue,
THIS POEM WAS MADE FOR YOU.......
poem by Obi Onyenwe
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Surprise, Surprise )
-"there's a break ev'ry time, there"
-"................?.................."
-"no, oh, i thought it was you, sombody was hangin' over, maybe a foot on the pedal or something"
-"................?.................."
-"well, would you do it, jim? eh, i don't know what you do it on.....yeah!"
-".one, one, two, three, four"
Sweet as the smell of success,
Her body's warm and wet.
She gets me thru this god awful loneliness,
A natural high butterfly.
Oh, i, i need. need, need her.
Just like a willow tree,
A breath of spring, you see.
And, oh boy, you don't know what she do to me,
She makes me sweat, forget who i am.
Oh i, i need, need, need her.
Well, i was wond'rin' how long this could go on,
On and on.
'cause i thought i could never be surprised.
But could it be that i bit my own tongue?
Mm-hmm,
It's so hard to swallow when you're wrong.
A bird of paradise,
Sunrise in her eyes.
God only knows such a sweet surprise,
I was blind, she blew my mind,
Think that i, oh, i love, love, love her.
- "stay on your d! - d! - stay there. hey!"
Sweet, sweet, sweet,
Sweet, sweet smell.
Sweet, sweet, sweet
Such sweet, sweet,
Sweet, sweet smell.
- "ok, thank you! stop! let me just check it
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roses
People say Roses are Red,
Then, Red Roses for my passionate love to you
People say Roses are Pink,
Then, Pink Roses to show that I admire you
People say Roses are Yellow,
Then, Yellow Roses to brighten your day
People say Roses are Lavender,
Then, Lavender Roses to say that I love you at my first sight
People say Roses are Orange,
Then, Orange Roses to say that I want to build a relationship with you
And,
People say Roses are White,
Then, The White Rose for the purity and confession of my heart
To confess in my heart that I am truly falling in love with you.
With A Little Help From My Friends
What would you think if I sang out of tune
Would you stand up and walk out on me
Lend me your ears and Ill sing you a song
And Ill try not to sing out of key
Oh, Ill get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, Ill get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, Ill get by with a little help from my friends, my friends
What do you do when our love is away
Does it worry you to be alone
And how does it feel by the end of the day
Are you sad because youre on your own
Oh, Ill get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, Ill get high with a little help from my friends
Oh Ill get by with a little help from my friends
Do you need any body
I need somebody to love
Could it be anybody
I need somebody to love, to love, to love
Would you believe in this love at first sight
Yes Im certain that it happens al the time
What do you see when you turn out the light
I cant tell you but I know that its mine
Oh, Ill get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, Ill get high with a little help from my friends
Oh Ill get by with a little help from my friends
Do you need any body
I need somebody to love
Could it be anybody
I need somebody to love
Oh, Ill get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, Ill get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, Ill get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, Ill get by with a little help from my friends
With a little help from my friends, my friends, my friends
Repeat to fade...
song performed by by Wet Wet Wet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Flower Grows, One Dies
that rose that grows is surrounded by the suns light, glowing
that rose grows, while my rose dies
my beautiful rose
with the smell of a million roses together
not the store bought roses that just smell like plastic and chemicals
no, the natural smell that i wish i could keep forever
she was my rose, she was the rose that died
and she is the one growing for another one
my flower dies, and the other one grew
not for me, but for you.
poem by Sarah Rabago
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Pride And Ego
I hide this in my heart,
for a long time and,
people noticed it,
friends talked about it,
though they do not know,
what that is hidden anew,
I nurture it day by day,
strengthen it say by say,
people noticed it,
friends talked about it,
When they know about it,
I do not understand what is it,
I boast about me and
let my friends to flatter about me,
For the flattering that I get,
I boast about me and
let myself to flatter about them,
My friends know about it,
I know about them,
To survive in this world,
we have to scratch one another,
but the truth hidden in my safe,
can not be shunned always,
from the watchful eyes of my friends,
a word, an action or a scream,
may bring out all the goods,
and evils that is kept in my heart.
as the old meat decays and
emits the repelling odor or
the sweet fermented smell,
from the dried flowers.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Memories In The Old Brain
-the smell of water
a scent hanging in the air
a trail through parched, barren land
now greened by rain
in a time of plenty.
the taste of marrow
fresh from the cracked bone,
touched by a fire
that lights the way
to a time of plenty
the sight of a day
over savanna grass,
sight without mystery
without awe
or the art to feel the dawn
and see the light with a new eye
in a time of plenty
the sound of a wild call,
a beast
stirring the heart,
a heart yet to be gripped
by the savage's siren call
to a time of plenty.
Memories deep in my core
of scent, taste, sight, sound
water, fire, light, howl
-memories from a time undefined
-before memory shaped
light and dark into day and night
-before memory became
slave and master of time.
I am a child of these memories,
before and after.
Dancing to the rhythm of time
I am old
in a time of plenty.
poem by Ronald Shields
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