Untitled #2
ROBE d'or, mais rien ne veut
Qu'une rose à ses cheveux.
A golden robe, yet will she wear
Only a rose in her golden hair.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Within The Veil
She holds a lily in her hand,
Where long ranks of Angels stand,
A silver lily for her wand.
All her hair falls sweeping down;
Her hair that is a golden brown,
A crown beneath her golden crown.
Blooms a rose-bush at her knee,
Good to smell and good to see:
It bears a rose for her, for me;
Her rose a blossom richly grown,
My rose a bud not fully blown,
But sure one day to be mine own.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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My Sage Green Robe
I sit on my bed, and look across at my sage green towelling robe,
hanging on the back of the bedroom door.
Does he still 'fancy' me,
when I'm wearing it,
probably not,
it's not 'sexy', rather 'frumpy' really,
not at all an 'exciting' piece of clothing.
A dowdy bird,
dowdy and unheard!
I think that's me!
A 'new' me, must emerge from that robe.
A butterfly from a chrysalis,
A rose from a bud.
I think I need an overhaul, and a new 'robe',
like you see the 'famous' wearing,
in their 'penthouses'.
A glorious creation of satin and silk,
like flowing cream and milk.
Mind you, my towelling robe, hangs next to his towelling robe,
so perhaps we will do the same, and remain side by side,
and perhaps he loves me for other things than just being,
glamorous.
Hanging there, they look at peace with each other,
so I think I'll stick with my sage green towelling robe,
it cuddles me, just like he does!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Untitled #1
CON manto d'oro, collana, ed anelli,
Le piace aver con quelli
Non altro che una rosa ai suoi capelli.
WITH golden mantle, rings, and necklace fair,
It likes her best to wear
Only a rose within her golden hair.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Roses et muguets
Au comte Charles de Montblanc
Dans le vallon qu’arrose
L’eau courante, j’allais
Un jour cueillir la rose,
La rose et les muguets.
Mon amoureux qui n’ose
Rien me dire y passait;
Moi je cueillais la rose,
La rose et le muguet.
Oh! vilain! oh! morose!”
Au nez je lui riais,
Tout en cueillant la rose,
La rose et les muguets.
Sur l’herbe je me pose
En jetant mon bouquet,
Mon beau bouquet de rose,
De rose et de muguet.
Dis-moi donc quelque chose!
Les oiseaux sont plus gais
Gazouillant à la rose
Becquetant les muguets.
N’aye pas peur qu’on glose.
Le lézard fait le guet
Couché sur une rose,
Caché dans le muguet.
Mais sur ma bouche close
Son baiser me narguait.
Tes lèvres sont de rose
Et tes dents de muguet.
Le méchant ! Il est cause
(Moi qui tant me moquais!)
Que dans l’eau court ma rose
Ma rose et mes muguets.
poem by Charles Cros
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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
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The White Rose o' June
Air - 'Voice of Spring.'
Now the bricht sun, and the soft simmer showers,
Deck a' the woods and the gardens wi' flowers;
But bonny and sweet though the hale o' them be,
There's ane aboon a' that is dearest to me;
An' oh, that's the white rose, the white rose o' June,
An' may
he
that should wear it come back again sune!
It's no on my breast, nor yet in my hair,
That emblem dear I venture to wear;
But it blooms in my heart, and its white leaves I weet,
When alane in the gloamin' I wander to greet,
O'er the white rose, the white rose, the white rose o' June,
An' may
he
that should wear it come back again sune!
Mair fragrant and rich the red rose may be,
But there is nae spell to bind it to me;
But dear to my heart and to fond memorie,
Tho' scathed and tho' blighted the white rose may be.
O the white rose, the white rose, the white rose o' June,
O may
he
that should wear it come back again sune!
An' oh! may the true hearts thy perils who share,
Remember'd wi' tears, and remember'd in prayer,
Whom misfortune's rude blast has sent far awa',
Fair breezes bring back sune to cottage and ha';-
Then, O sing the white rose, the white rose o' June,
An' may
he
that should wear it wear Scotland's auld croun!
poem by Carolina Oliphant
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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
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To The Person I Love
Je ne connais pas n'importe qui
mais je vous connais
je vous aime
mais vous ne savez pas
je ne vois pas n'importe qui mais vous
mais vous ne savez pas que j'existe
vous avez les cheveux bruns
et les beaux yeux
j'ai les cheveux blonds
et les yeux cruels
vous êtes mon opposé
mais vous êtes également mon soulmate
vous êtes la personne que j'adore
vous êtes l'amour de la personne I
Mais vous ne découvrirez jamais
puisque vous devez se perfectionner
pour quelqu'un comme moi pour te demander
T ranslation:
I don't know anyone
But I know you.
I like you
But you don't know.
I don't see anyone but you
But you don't know I exist.
You have brown hair
And beautiful eyes.
I have blonde hair
And cruel eyes.
You're my opposite
But you're also my soulmate.
You're the person I adore
You're the person I love
But you'll never find out
Because you're to perfect
For someone like me to ask you out.
poem by Emily Tyrrell
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The heart, they say, asks pleasure first
A king is a king by his robe;
A priest is a priest by his robe;
A judge is a judge by his robe;
A nun is a nun by her robe.
Naked, they answer their instincts
Which are not different from yours
04.09.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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
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Red Rose Destitute Prostitute
Rose has the reddest hair I've seen...
Rose is a prostitute of high repute....
Rose smiles and all your thorns fall off
along with your shoes..............................
Rose and I get along real swell not like
you think....
Rose lives on the streets as well...being as
she is actually she has as many as tree
or four homes a day.
Rose did not show up for her doctors appointment.....
Rose was found in an empty lot with her bush
lopped off.
Rose was destitute when found she was sent off on
what we call the gravy train to every where
rose was cremated under tarp then bailed out.
poem by Cigar Aficionado
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14 Juin 1915
On ne peut rien dire
Rien de ce qui se passe
Mais on change de Secteur
Ah ! voyageur égaré
Pas de lettres
Mais l'espoir
Mais un journal
Le glaive antique de la Marseillaise de Rude
S'est changé en constellation
Il combat pour nous au ciel
Mais cela signifie surtout
Qu'il faut être de ce temps
Pas de glaive antique
Pas de Glaive
Mais l'Espoir
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
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The Past
I fling the past behind me, like a robe
Worn threadbare at the seams, and out of date.
I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep
And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes
Of oriental splendor, or complain
That I must needs discard it? I can weave
Upon the shuttles of the future years
A fabric far more durable. Subdued,
It may be, in the blending of its hues,
Where somber shades commingle, yet the gleam
Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through,
While over all a fadeless luster lies,
And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears,
My new robe shall be richer than the old.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Golden Rose
A POOR lost princess, weary and worn,
Came over the down by the wind-washed moor,
And the king looked out on her grace forlorn,
And he took her in at his palace door.
He made her queen, he gave her a crown,
Bidding her rest and be glad and gay
In his golden town, with a golden gown,
And a new gold lily every day.
But the crown is heavy, the gold gown gray,
And the queen's pale breast is like autumn snows;
For he brings a gold lily every day,
But no king gathers the golden rose.
One came at last to the palace keep
By worlds of water and leagues of land,
Gray were his garments, his eyes were deep,
And he held the golden rose in his hand.
She left gold gown, gold town, gold crown,
And followed him straight to a world apart,
And he left her asleep on the wind-washed down,
With the golden rose on her quiet heart.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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One Rose
Rose
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each bruise
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you cheated
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you forced me
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each pointless arguement
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each crime
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you try to end me
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
How many more can I live through?
poem by Lexie Night
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What A Rose Can Say
A rose can say I love you and want you to be mine,
A rose can say I thank you for being so very kind,
A rose can say congratulations, whatever the occasion may be,
A rose can say I miss you and wish you were here with me,
A rose can say I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way,
A rose can say get well soon, May God bless you today,
A rose can say I wish you happiness, and the best for you each day.
A rose can say farewel when someone goes away,
A rose can say hello, I'm thinking of you today,
There's just so many wonderful things that a rose can say,
A rose can say goodbye when a love one is laid to rest,
No matter what there is to say, a rose can say it best.
poem by Margie Driver
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Valley Deep
Your eyes are a powerful ocean,
Your hair a golden field of wheat,
Your lips are crimson rose petals,
Your mind a valley deep,
I want to drown in the ocean,
I want to run my hand through the golden field of wheat,
I want to press my lips against the crimson rose petals,
I want to run through the valley deep
poem by Mary Great
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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
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Not For Attar
How hard is your heart
To squeeze the Rose
That smiles amidst thorns all around
And call its essence a scent
Wear the flower on your hair
Present the rose to your beloved as Valentine gift
Have mercy on this gentle and sweet flower
Don't smear its blood as scent
And Ladies and Gentlemen, for your kind information
Rose is not made for Attar
Rose is not just a flower
Rose is QUEEN of all flowers
Appreciate her fragrance and elegance
Do not squeeze for essence
And always adore Her Excellence with reverence
poem by Kavin Charalan
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La Robe A Parasol
trim your dress, trim your dress
trim your dress in the parasol style
if you have hips, if you have hips
trim your dress in the parasol style
trim your dress, trim your dress
trim your dress in the parasol style
go to sleep, go to sleep
go to sleep in your baby's arms
balance yourself, balance yourself
balance yourself in your baby's arms
if you have hips, if you have hips
trim your dress in the parasol style
French version:
tailles ta robe, tailles ta robe,
tailles ta robe la mode a parasol
si t'as des hanches, si t'as des hanches,
tailles la robe la mode a parasol
tailles ta robe, mais tailles ta robe,
tailles ta robe la mode a parasol
sommeillez, sommeillez,
sommeillez dans les bras de ton gars
balancez, balancez,
balancez dans les bras de ton gars
si t'as des hanches, si t'as des hanches,
tailles ta robe la mode a parasol
sommeillez, sommeillez,
sommeillez dans les bras de ton gars
balancez, balancez,
balancez dans les bras de ton gars
tailles ta robe, Mais tailles ta robe,
tailles ta robe la mode a parasol
balancez, sommeillez
sommeillez dans les bras de ton gars
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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