En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sonnet LXIV: Ardour And Memory

The cuckoo-throb, the heartbeat of the Spring;
The rosebud's blush that leaves it as it grows
Into the full-eyed fair unblushing rose;
The summer clouds that visit every wing
With fires of sunrise and of sunsetting;
The furtive flickering streams to light re-born
'Mid airs new-fledged and valorous lusts of morn,
While all the daughters of the daybreak sing:—
These ardour loves, and memory: and when flown
All joys, and through dark forest-boughs in flight
The wind swoops onward brandishing the light,
Even yet the rose-tree's verdure left alone
Will flush all ruddy though the rose be gone;
With ditties and with dirges infinite.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Rose’s rose rose

Rose’s rose rose
In the light of the day
While the wind blows
Round its flowers of the lightest rosé.
Rose’s rose rose
In a way Rose may
When she grows
As her rose
Shows
How it grows
And by the end of the day
When her rose’s flowers’d close
And its head would sway
In the wind, Rose would say:
“My rose, as you rose
In the light of the day
Did you notice those,
The sounds of your stay?
Not only those of the day,
But, too, the ones of the dark, rose,
The ones of the dark and the moon in its pose.
Did you notice those, rose?
Did you notice those? ”
And the rose would know
What Rose would want to say
And it would sleep
With its flowers of the lightest rosé.

poem by Sarah Jay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Song of The Rose

F Zeus chose us a King of the flowers in his mirth,
He would call to the rose, and would royally crown it;
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the grace of the earth,
Is the light of the plants that are growing upon it!
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the eye of the flowers,
Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves fair,
Is the lightning of beauty that strikes through the bowers
On pale lovers that sit in the glow unaware.
Ho, the rose breathes of love! ho, the rose lifts the cup
To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest!
Ho, the rose having curled its sweet leaves for the world
Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up,
As they laugh to the wind as it laughs from the west.

poem by Sappho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Spring Comes Hither

Spring comes hither
Buds the rose . . .
Roses wither
Sweet spring goes . . .
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would she carry me.

Summer soars
Wide-wing'd day . . .
White light pours
Flies away . . .
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would he carry me.

Soft winds blow
Westward borne . . .
Onward go
Towards the morn
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would they carry me.

Sweet birds sing
O'er the graves
Then take wing
O'er the waves
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would they carry me.

poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Buy Me a Rose

Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Buy me sweet reasons to be forever close
Tender me with words propose
Wear my heart on your sleeves
for i am the rose you chose
Reveal your gentle pose
Make me your fair lady before chairs and doors

Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
And out for a dozen for me he goes
Past mountain high and wild river flows
I must be i suppose
His romantic quest and cause

Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Venture deeper into me
make me eternally yours
Share with me the gift my belly grows
suddenly loving me his world not knows
And in to the distance sails as the new wind blows
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Better yet maybe not
a precious one in me grows

poem by Wes Mbanje
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Before the Mirror

I.
WHITE ROSE in red rose-garden
Is not so white;
Snowdrops that plead for pardon
And pine for fright
Because the hard East blows
Over their maiden rows
Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.

Behind the veil, forbidden,
Shut up from sight,
Love, is there sorrow hidden,
Is there delight?
Is joy thy dower or grief,
White rose of weary leaf,
Late rose whose life is brief, whose loves are light?

Soft snows that hard winds harden
Till each flake bite
Fill all the flowerless garden
Whose flowers took flight
Long since when summer ceased,
And men rose up from feast,
And warm west wind grew east, and warm day night.

II.
“Come snow, come wind or thunder
High up in air,
I watch my face, and wonder
At my bright hair;
Nought else exalts or grieves
The rose at heart, that heaves
With love of her own leaves and lips that pair.

“She knows not loves that kissed her
She knows not where.
Art thou the ghost, my sister,
White sister there,
Am I the ghost, who knows?
My hand, a fallen rose,
Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.

“I cannot see what pleasures
Or what pains were;
What pale new loves and treasures
New years will bear;
What beam will fall, what shower,
What grief or joy for dower;
But one thing knows the flower; the flower is fair.”

III.
Glad, but not flushed with gladness,
Since joys go by;
Sad, but not bent with sadness,
Since sorrows die;
Deep in the gleaming glass
She sees all past things pass,
And all sweet life that was lie down and lie.

There glowing ghosts of flowers
Draw down, draw nigh;
And wings of swift spent hours
Take flight and fly;
She sees by formless gleams,
She hears across cold streams,
Dead mouths of many dreams that sing and sigh.

Face fallen and white throat lifted,
With sleepless eye
She sees old loves that drifted,
She knew not why,
Old loves and faded fears
Float down a stream that hears
The flowing of all men’s tears beneath the sky.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Rose Tree Of Winter

In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Just One Rose...

that's a homework i need you to tell me if i should hand it to the teacher or not...(:

just one rose, a pretty rose...
just one rose for me with no coze...
just one rose pure and true...
just one rose for me is all i can do...

just one rose somewhere out there...
just one rose for me to care...
just one rose when dark days prevail...
just one rose when people only use petrail...

just one rose and all the time...
just one rosefor me is a crime...

poem by rose of death XxX
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Seasons of Hope

I wonder if the wind will blow from the east,
When we rise in the Spring to a promising feast,
To welcome the buds as they gently unfold,
And my Rose of all flowers the queen.

I wonder if the wind will blow from the south,
With the heat of the sun like a furnace's mouth;
And the roses of June braving colours so bold,
In contrast with verdure green.

I wonder if the wind will blow from the west,
When Autumn is heralding Summer's bequest,
And the last rose of summer as in centuries old
Fades away, lacking lustre and sheen.

I wonder if the wind will blow from the north,
When the flurries of snowflakes come sallying forth;
And my loved one and I will bend to the cold,
Though inwardly warm and serene.

Let the wind blow its will, be it gale, be it light,
Let it blow itself out in the dark of the night;
Let the sky be dark azure or glorious gold,
There's no hope in a future foreseen.

poem by Pius Dapre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Woman Who Grew Into A Rose

(A Poem For 21st Century Women # 2)

(Prov.31: 10–31 / Prov.18: 22 / Matt.13: 10–15)

A Woman Who Grew
Into A Rose
Remains In GOD’s Garden
… and Grows

Her Heartbeats Blossoms
Opens To Disclose
The Prettiest, Feminine
Petals-Pose

A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Her Fresh–Faith Fragrance
Wafts and Flows …

… into A Knowledge
Of Heaven–Scent
She Offers Her Keen
Spiritual–Sense …
(Prov.31: 26)

… which Intoxicates
A Wise Man’s Nose
with Each Blissful Breeze
… Benevolence Blows
(Prov.31: 11,12,28)

& A Woman Who’s Grown
Into A Rose
Stems To Sister Roses
Leaves of Sacred Prose
(Prov.31: 15)

Yes, There Are Lilies, Orchids
& Magnolia–Blooms
and Such Unique Flora
Has Their Trace–Perfume

… Lavenders, Gardenias
& Honeysuckle Aromas
Are Also Potent Enough
To Revive Fainting Comas
(Prov.31: 29)

But Many Wild Roses
In Many Rows & Rows
Are Limited In Layers
… No Cultivation Shows

For A Rose To Impress
Must Be Pruned & Dressed
& When Beautifully Blessed
Is Like A Flower–Empress! *
(Prov.31: 29,30)

& A Woman Who Grows
Into A Caring Rose
Is More Than An Ornament
With Ribbons & Bows …
_______________________

She Is A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
& Is Ready To Reap
What She Wisely Sows

& A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Can Rest At Peace
In Sweet Repose

A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose …
Away – Away! …
Pain Thorns She Throws

Away – Away! …
Her Fears Are Froze
‘Till GOD Will Crush
All Her Foes …

… A Rose Seed Was Buried
‘Till In Humility
The Rose Would Rise Up
In Grateful Modesty

So A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Was Born To Believe
Resurrections’ Roles

Tho’ Other Flowers
Could Do – She Suppose
None Quite Spread Unfolded
… Like A Rose

… in Trust & Courage
& Edges Exposed
Yet Will Not Wilt
Because of Woes …

& Rivers & Rainstorms
& Mountain Streams
The Roots of The Rose
… Have Drank From These

But Twas’ Crystal Fountains
& One Drop of Christ’s Blood
Gave Deep Wells of Life
To Dark-Red Rosebud …

… The Rose – Arches True
To Shafts of Light
& Rises To Glory
In The Morning’s Might

A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Revels In Soft Grass
Between Trail – Toes …

… while Reaching For Delights
and Bright Rainbows
She Is Ever GOD’s …
Dewy–Eyed Rose

… Yes, It Was GOD
Who Lovingly Chose
A Woman Like Me
As A Landscape-Rose

& A Woman Who Grows
Into A Godly Rose
In Moonlit-Gardens
Mercy–Miracles … Glows

(‘Till Everybody Knows
… She Is A Rose)
That GOD Looks After
… and Grows

Written & ©: 12/21/2011

By: The MoonBee
(A Woman Who Grew Into A Rose)

poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

May-Rose

On this day to life she came—
May-Rose, my May-Rose!
With scented breeze, with flowered flame,
She touched the earth and took her name
Of May, Rose.
Here, to-day, she grows and flowers—
May-Rose, my May-Rose.
All my life with light she dowers,
And colors all the coming hours
With May, Rose!

poem by George Parsons Lathrop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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!

Love Outloved

I Love cometh and love goeth,
And he is wise who knoweth
Whither and whence love flies:
But wise and yet more wise
Are they that heed not whence he flies or whither
Who hither speeds to-day, to-morrow thither;
Like to the wind that as it listeth blows,
And man doth hear the sound thereof, but knows
Nor whence it comes nor whither yet it goes.

II

O sweet my sometime loved and worshipt one
A day thou gavest me
That rose full-orbed in starlike happiness
And lit our heaven that other stars had none:--
Sole as that westering sphere companionless
When twilight is begun
And the dead sun transfigureth the sea:
A day so bright
Methought the very shadow, from its light
Thrown, were enough to bless
(Albeit with but a shadow's benison)
The unborn days its dark posterity.
Methought our love, though dead, should be
Fair as in life, by memory
Embalmed, a rose with bloom for aye unblown.
But lo the forest is with faded leaves
And our two hearts with faded loves bestrown,
And in mine ear the weak wind grieves
And uttereth moan:
'Shed leaves and fallen, fallen loves and shed,
And those are dead and these are more than dead;
And those have known
The springtime, these the lovetime, overthrown,
With all fair times and pleasureful that be.'
And shall not we, O Time, and shall not we
Thy strong self see
Brought low and vanquishèd,
And made to bow the knee
And bow the head
To one that is when thou and thine are fled,
The silent-eyed austere Eternity?

III

Behold a new song still the lark doth sing
Each morning when he riseth from the grass,
And no man sigheth for the song that was,
The melody that yestermorn did bring.
The rose dies and the lily, and no man mourns
That nevermore the selfsame flower returns:
For well we know a thousand flowers will spring,
A thousand birds make music on the wing.
Ay me! fair things and sweet are birds and flowers,
The scent of lily and rose in gardens still,
The babble of beakèd mouths that speak no ill:
And love is sweeter yet than flower or bird,
Or any odor smelled or ditty heard--
Love is another and a sweeter thing.
But when the music ceaseth in Love's bowers,
Who listeneth well shall hear the silence stirred
With aftermoan of many a fretful string:
For when Love harpeth to the hollow hours,
His gladdest notes make saddest echoing.

poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Light in My Winter

A light in my winter
For spring dreams to come
Shady darkish tinter
Where my summer is from
A light in white frost
For the blossoming dreams
Those with autumn were lost
In oblivion river streams

Each morning come glowing
With sunshine and day
Through the darkness going
To lead forthcoming way
When rose shall reddish
So lovesome in my bed
To bring in spring wish
Through their colors red

A light in my heart
To fulfill my dark eyes
For blossoms shall start
When there are blue skies
And again summer spring
With each beauty of worth
And birds in trees to sing
Every song of new earth

poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Rose Upon My Balcony

The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming,
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring;
You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why her cheek is blooming,
It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing.

The nightingale, whose melody is through the greenwood ringing,
Was silent when the boughs were bare and winds were blowing keen:
And if, Mamma, you ask of me the reason of his singing,
It is because the sun is out and all the leaves are green.

Thus each performs his part, Mamma; the birds have found their voices,
The blowing rose a flush, Mamma, her bonny cheek to dye;
And there's sunshine in my heart, Mamma, which wakens and rejoices,
And so I sing and blush, Mamma, and that's the reason why.

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

A White Rose

THE red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Rose With Such A Bonny Blush

The rose with such a bonny blush,
What has the rose to blush about?
If it's the sun that makes her flush,
What's in the sun to flush about?

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Dove

The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose whispers of love;

O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you this cream-white rosebud,
With a flush on it's pedal tips;

For the love that is purest and the seetest,
Has a kiss of desire on its lips.

poem by Kayla Danielle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!