En.Citatepedia^®.ro

As You See It

To the rose
the garden disappears.
To the garden
the rose withers away.

(If you were the gardener,
what would you say?)

poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Disgarded Garden

Their once was a young man who wanted to become a Gardner. There once was a young Rose Tree that wanted a Gardener. They met each other one summer day and began what seemed to be a beautiful relationship. The Gardner was attentive of his garden along with his Rose Tree and the Rose Tree was so happy that its tender branches grew and it bloomed continuously for the Gardner so he’d always be happy.

As time went by the Rose Tree noticed that Gardner wouldn’t tend to her as much as he once did. And when he did he would cut away harshly at the Rose Tree. The Rose Tree being a simple plant who did not need much attention still bloomed for the Gardner. It seemed the more she tried, the more the Gardner would cut away and the tree was now nestled in the ground. Why could this be? He had a bountiful garden that any Gardner would have loved to have. What more could anyone want thought the Rose Tree.

Now in an abandoned garden the Rose Tree grows back its branches, with very thick thorn’s to protect it self. As time goes by one day, out of nowhere appears a Gardener who has silently admired the Rose Tree from outside the garden gates and begins to nurture the Rose Tree in her garden. He tenderly and sympathetically pulls away all the weeds and brush from the Rose Tree so the air, rain & sunshine can reach her again. Allowing her the opportunity to grow back as she once was; vibrant, strong, colorful and to be simply, herself.

This is something the Rose Tree had long forgotten and is very grateful for the loving words of encouragement and kindness that her new Gardner has shown. She longingly awaits for his visits and when the Gardner comes to see her she bloom’s for him and relaxes underneath his beautifully kind smile. My darling Gardner, I am glad fate has brought you to walk along the path leading to the once lost garden and Rose Tree.

poem by Sarah Barron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Less’er Love, And A Rose, In My Garden

I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…at times I have lesser love
And in less is more, very much more
…………….and there is this garden
..the garden, ours by the Grace of the Life Force, supreme God
..there is this Rose, and those Roses there… all chose a place to be
I, the Gardner choose the blooms from which Rose goes to the glass next my bed
I love this Rose, and less but similar those other
….they decide when to bloom
In sping late winter their souls weep, as I sheer, as I must
In spring and summer and early winter we rejoice as they bloom abundantly
…..every night one bloom from The Rose that’ad also chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen

I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times

…..only one Rose reads to me… I a lesser Gardener
Lesser, cause I’m only able t’love one Rose…..this Rose here
….those Roses there, some’r lessor Roses, some’r superior Roses, are my friends
Lesser in texture, shape and fiber and fragrance
Some superior in texture, or shape and or fiber and or fragrance
Friends equal in dimension with the Rose, but less in love than the Rose
…..every night one bloom from The Rose, that’s chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen

I, the gardener…. I prune, sheer…. at times
These other Roses who chose my garden
...so valuable in a muchness o’ Friendship,
…the quality their love much the same as that The Rose
Different the lesser my love, even though my caring equals that towards The Rose
We are blessed, those of us in the garden
…the magnificence of this garden in my life is the sumtotal of you all in my garden
I drink your fragrance intoxicated with love
I love The Rose, and my friends these other Roses in the garden Bless this love

poem by Johan Fourie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Plucked A Rose From A Garden Green......

By Murtaza Abt

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
Of beauty never felt or seen,
Hoping that it would never wilt,
And always be as always been.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
with a happy blissful heart,
And promised i would hold it tight,
And never would we part.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
But little did i know,
That not in endless love and care,
But gardens do they grow.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And took it home with me,
But little did it stay the way,
The way t'was meant to be.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to grieve,
Over gardens green and meadows lush,
As it was sad to leave.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to wilt,
And wither in that unknown land,
it filled my heart with guilt.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to die,
For happiness i had only asked,
But i began to cry.

....................................

I have p L ucked y O u from a garden green,
Your beauty i VE never felt or seen,
Hoping that YOU will never wilt,
And always be as always been.

09/Nov/09

poem by Murtaza Abt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose With Thorns

The rose with thorns
Beautiful passion red rose
But dangerous with thorns
Picked off the garden
By a bard on
Realize he was bleeding
Thought roughly about his feelings
About why the rose had thorns
Never again would he pick up the red rose with thorns
The rose only brought him pain
Thoe he did not go insane
By wanting to stomp on it
But he just forfeit on it
He just let the rose there on the ground
And the rose was hoping it would be found
So the bard on
Left the garden
Checked his finger with the thorn pulled it out
finger was bleeding and never looked back at the rose with the thorns

poem by Jose antonio Torres galeana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Under The Ivy

It wouldn't take me long
To tell you how to find it
To tell you where we'll meet
This little girl inside me
Is retreating to her favourite place
Go into the garden, go under the ivy
Under the leaves, away from the party
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
I sit here in the thunder
The green on the gray
I feel it all around me
And it's not easy for me
To give away a secret
It's not safe
To go into the garden, go under the ivy
Under the leaves, away from the party
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
Go into the garden, go under the ivy
Go under the leaves with me
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
I'll be waiting for you
It wouldn't take me long
To tell you how to find it

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Spanish Harlem

There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
It is a special one, it's never seen the sun
It only comes out when the moon is on the run And all the stars are gleaming
It's growing in the street right up through the concrete
But soft and sweet and dreamin'
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
With eyes as black as coal that look down in my soul
And starts a fire there and then I lose control I have to beg your pardon
I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden
I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem

song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rose Is, But A Rose

A Rose Is, But A Rose by Kenny Davis

A rose is, but a rose
Its illustrious petals has me drawn to her
With every one that blooms and blossoms I yearn for her
For with every one that drops and withers away I mourn for her

A rose is, but a rose
Holds such beauty like that of the Garden of Eden
Thanking god for the gift of this rose, I find myself pleading
Hoping that the beauty found in this rose is not misleading

A rose is, but a rose
With its true essence hidden under its thorns
Cherishing, treasuring, and loving it beyond its pain and scorn
Hoping that through all the love I show for her, that its spirit is reborn

A rose is, but a rose
Through the storms, finds the strength to continue to bloom
Where most would have been doomed to allow life’s rage to be consumed
Through my admiration of her creation send a sensation to have her faith in love renewed

A rose is, but a rose
Though there are many, none like her
Much like the fiery red of her petals, my love for her continues to burn
Blessing me with privilege caring for her, she allows me to shower my love for her in return

A rose is, but a rose
Gardening every inch of her nature overwhelmingly fills this void inside
I gained an everlasting love for life, when my world with hers collided
Much like a rose without water, without my rose, I would wither and die

© May 2011 k.davis

poem by Kenneth Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm His Rose

I was a rose in a garden of many thorns,
Until the day that love was born.
His hand touched my heart, giving me hope,
He picked me up, untying the thorn rope.

I'm his rose whether he knows or not,
I'm his rose because he protects me,
I'm his rose because he set me free.
I'm his rose because he never opened his hand,
I'm his rose because he's the right man.

poem by Adnana Saric
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rose Intoxication!

Queen of flowers rose is always a fascination!
Rose is symbol of passionate love cheers mood!
Rose lady gives great pride to be with anywhere!

Special respect to rose never changes anywhere;
Red rose, pink rose and even blue rose are there
Occupying a pride of place none can have ever!

Bouquet of rose flowers elates anyone to dizziness!
A special gift indeed rose flowers makes to all!
A single rose is enough to make one grand to look
Instead of a big cluster of flowers of jasmine or lily!

Scent of rose remains fresh in mind wherever one is;
Such a unique flower rose how can anyone ignore
Whether it is in the garden or lies on a wayward side!
Now after seeing rose and read on rose I am intoxicated..!

poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose, Rose(by Henrry Zhou)

Rose, Rose(by Henrry Zhou)

Rose, Rose
Love you, without words.
When I touch your waist,
Close to your lips.

Rose, Rose
Kisses are what you send to me.
Endless mythical dream
Every kiss seems to be

Rose, rose
Aren’t you the waves of the red wine
Of the first night in a wedding?
In your soft heart
slipped the lovers’ laughs and tears.

Love you, Rose
Light vortex, pink whorls
full of a garden I wish to plant Roses
Even waking to be a sad nightmare
Still I will hold you.
O, Rose, my dear Rose

poem by Henrry Zhou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Lovely Rose

I have a rose in the garden,
Unfolding red lovely petals,
With thorns surrounding it,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.

I left the garden,
I left my lovely rose,
Far away yet so near,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.

Time have passed,
Have seen again my rose,
Beautiful and sweetly scented at its full blossom,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.

My rose is not mine anymore,
Yet I let my rose feel
Thy undoubting care and heart rejoicing,
Could glimpse again my lovely rose.

poem by Dong Agosto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The December Rose

Here's a rose that blows for Chloe,
Fair as ever a rose in June was,
Now the garden's silent, snowy,
Where the burning summer noon was.

In your garden's summer glory
One poor corner, shelved and shady,
Told no rosy, radiant story,
Grew no rose to grace its lady.

What shuts sun out shuts out snow too;
From his nook your secret lover
Shows what slighted roses grow to
When the rose you chose is over.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Roses For Rose

Roses for Rose in the garden of love,
But let the matter rest when you have no view;
For your relationship has landed on the rocks already.
Rose is my lover and i have a rose for her,
And like a bucket full of boiling beans;
But you may have a myriad of problems in the land of your muse.
My lover is so sweet like the rose,
So i always bring her roses to satisfy her muse;
But do not fix in your larger foot in the garden to destroy other things,
For i only do visit her at the right time when she always call me in!
And stop worrying about her because she is called Rose in the land of roses.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Sunset

Roses in the sky,
Roses in the sea
Bowers of scarlet sky-roses
Take my heart and me.

God was good to make,
This December weather,
All this sky a rose-garden,
Rose and fire together.

To the East are burning
Roses in a garden,
Roses in a rosy field,
Hesper for their warden.

Yonder to the West
Roses all afire,
Mirror now some rare splendid
Rose of their desire.

Pulsing deeper, deeper,
Waves of fire throb on,
Never were such red roses
At sunset or dawn.

Roses on the hills,
Roses in the hollow,
Roses on the wet hedges,
In the shining fallow.

West wind, blow and blow!
That has blown ajar
Gates of God's great rose-garden,
Where His Angels are,

Gathering up the rose-leaves
For a shower of roses
On the night the Lord Babe
His sweet eye uncloses.

All the sky is scarlet
Flaming on the azure.
O, there's fire in Heaven
My heart aches with pleasure.

Leagues of rose and scarlet,
Roses red as blood:
All the world's a rose-garden.
God is good, is good.

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Never Promised You A Rose Garden

I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden
Along with the sunshine, theres gotta be a little rain sometimes
I could promise you things,
Like big diamond rings
But if thats what it takes to hold you
Id as soon as let you go
But theres one thing I want you to know
Oh, smile for a while and lets be jolly
Love shouldnt be so melancholy
Come along, enjoy the good times while we can
I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden
Along with the sunshine, theres gotta be a little rain sometimes
I said, oh oh oh oh, I beg your pardon
I never promised you a rose garden

song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rose

A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North,
Grew in a little garden all alone;
A sweeter flower did Nature ne'er put forth,
Nor fairer garden yet was never known:
The maidens danced about it morn and noon,
And learned bards of it their ditties made;
The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon
Water'd the root and kiss'd her pretty shade.
But well-a-day!--the gardener careless grew;
The maids and fairies both were kept away,
And in a drought the caterpillars threw
Themselves upon the bud and every spray.
God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies,
The fairest blossom of the garden dies.

poem by William Browne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Rose

red is the color of death
the rose sits in a dead garden
a boy that has no idea whats coming
owns the garden outside of his house
he picks the lonely flower and
sits it next to his fish the next
two days the fish got flushed
the boys heart was borthing
him so he went to the emergency
room
his mother brought his rose to make him
feel better
within two hours the boy died of cancer the shape
of a rose
on his grave layed the red rose and the ntohing
but dead grass layed around it

poem by Chantel McCaskill
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The Withered Rose

O withered rose! How can I still call you a rose?
How can I call you the longing of nightingale's heart?

Once the zephyr's movement was your rocking cradle
In the garden's expanse joyous rose was your name

The morning breeze acknowledged your benevolence
The garden was like perfumer's tray by your presence

My weeping eye sheds dew on you
My desolate heart is concealed in your sorrow

You are a tiny picture of my destruction
You are the interpretation of my life's dream

Like a flute to my reed-brake I narrate my story
Listen O rose! I complain about separations!

poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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