Related quotes: A wind from the north...

A Rose With A Tinted Past

A wind from the north country.
Blows through the tapestry of my mind.
Like flowers in the wind.
I sway like a silver birch.
Winging high I soar though the sky.
A bird of tell tale feather below.
Ah, a rose with a tinted past.
A tear of dew on each new petal.
Shadow of sky I see.
A big yellow eye that warns me.
Spring has fallen by the way side.
Summer warms each small bed.
Sleep eluded the dreamers head.
Days hark of summer sandwich paste.
Eaten down in gulps of haste.
Gone are the winter winds.
Replaced by summers warm rays.

Ah, our rose with a tinted past.
Born out of a refuse tip.
Born with buds pointing skyward high.
To catch the sun through a cloudy sky.
Born with a majestic air.
The dark clouds of heaven see you there.
Rain dances on your petals blight.
Sky thunder roars.
Storm of shadows pass overhead.
Wind of tears, tears and shreds,
the petals from our roses head.
Sky of blue, no clouds of night.
Looks down at the sorry sight.
Head limp, beauty gone.
Sadness of glory light.
No longer see the sunlight.
Petals sweet, insect head.
Food for natures bed.
Earth dust shower still.
Life is short to fulfil
Day - night passes a solemn breath.
For our tinted roses death.

13 June 1978

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Yellow Rose

She came in my dreams last night,
She left a yellow rose and a love note on pillow next to me,
As always the inscription read,
'we are friends for ever and in the eternity'.

Since a rose is a rose,
why the red rose shines in the glory of love?
why the white roses remind us of our departed souls?
and why the yellow rose shines the rays of friendship in all of us?

Like sunshine bursting through grey clouds,
The aura of friendship emanates from its golden petals,
The frozen dew drops on its soft satin petals,
glorifies tears on my cheeks in the times of sadness,
Its mere presence and the fragrance,
fills my heart with the scent of warmth and affection.

Yellow rose you are perfection in creation,
I wonder why you have to wither away in time,
With every falling petal, a heart is broken,
with every withered yellow rose, a token of eternal friendship is lost.

poem by Jay P Narain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose Petals

Rose petals are so soft to touch,
rose petalsfragrance is so divine to smell,
rose petals are like lovely lips which smile,
rose petals are given to lady love,
rose petals are spread on bed of newly bride,
rose petals are life of butterflies,
rose petals are used for beauty baths,
rpse petals are offered on the lotus feet of god,
rose petals are placed on grave of dear ones,
rose petals are offered in river ganga for departed soul,
rose petals are showered on newly weds,
rose petals are decorated on festive days,
roses are given as a promise for everlasting love.

poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Baby and the Rose

A rose tree grew by the garden wall,
And its highest blossom was just as tall
As my baby's curly head;
A lovely, fragrant, perfect rose,-
But sweeter from head to dimpled toes,
Was the baby I fondly led.

Now summer is over and winter gone,
And the winds of March are whistling on
Where the rose its petals shed;
No trace of rose perfumed and rare,
No baby face as seraph fair,
My baby sweet is dead.

The summer sun will shine again,
And 'neath the pattering, warm June rain,
Again the rose will bloom,
And so beyond these lowering skies
My baby dear, with smiling eyes,
Shall peer through earthly gloom,

And guide me with her angel hand
Through Heaven's gates,-and with me stand
Away from worldly woes,-
Where Heaven's flowers, divinely sweet,
Soften the path for weary feet
With perfume of the rose.

poem by Ida McCormick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mom

My Mom was like a perfect rose at springtime,
Pure and beautiful, and the petals perfectly formed,
And it's fragrance sweet and pleasing to the senses.
For the rose, as my mom, came into this world as a thing of beauty.

As time passed, the winds came into my mother's life,
For as life brings the rose, it also brings the winds.
The wind blows the petals off the rose and it is no longer new
And struggles through the wind to regain its strength and beauty.

Because the rose by God's design is a thing of splendor,
The petals grow back as the winds die down,
As did my mother, for her spirit was strong,
And she lived her life with a love that had no boundaries.

My Mom fought many winds with grace and strength,
Always with a smile and never to bring sadness to anyone,
For she could not bear to see anyone cry,
She was too full of love and life to let the wind touch her spirit.

Mom was my perfect rose; beautiful, warm, loving, and sweet.
She is safe from the winds now and lives in Heaven.
She will live on in my heart always,
And ease the strong wind that weakens me.

Someday the wind will be only a gentle breeze upon my face,
And I will know that she lives on in me forever.
I will know that my Mom is still with me,
Still beautiful and strong and loving.

She is safe now and so much stronger than the winds
The she so courageously endured.
And in that she taught me to believe, have faith, and to know
That I have the strength to endure the winds of my own sorrow.

I love you Mom, you are forever in my heart - you are forever.

poem by Sally DeSmet Trueblood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weather Reporst Suite Part I

Winter rain, now tell me why, Summers fade, and roses die.
The answer came; the wind and rain.
Golden hills, now veiled in grey, Summer leaves have blown away
Now what remains? The wind and rain.
And like a desert spring, my lover comes and spreads her wings, Knowing,
Like a song that's born to soar the sky, Flowing,
Flowing 'til the waters all are dry, Growing, the loving in her eyes.
Circle songs and sands of time, and seasons will end in tumbled rhyme,
and little change, the wind and rain.
And like a desert spring, my lover comes and spreads her wings,
Knowing, Like a song that's born to soar the sky,
Flowing, Flowing 'til the rivers all are dry, Growing, the loving in her eyes.
Winter grey and falling rain, we'll see summer come again,
Darkness falls and seasons change (gonna happen every time).
Same old friends the wind and rain, Summers fade and roses die,
You'll see summer come again, Like a song that's born to soar the sky

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weather Report Suite Part 1

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weather Report Suite

Winter rain, now tell me why, summers fade, and roses die.
The answer came; the wind and rain.
Golden hills, now veiled in gray, summer leaves have blown away
Now what remains? the wind and rain.
And like a desert spring, my lover comes and spreads her wings, knowing,
Like a song thats born to soar the sky, flowing,
Flowing til the waters all are dry, growing, the loving in her eyes.
Circle songs and sands of time, and seasons will end in tumbled rhyme,
And little change, the wind and rain.
And like a desert spring, my lover comes and spreads her wings,
Knowing, like a song thats born to soar the sky,
Flowing, flowing til the rivers all are dry, growing, the loving in her eyes.
Winter gray and falling rain, well see summer come again,
Darkness falls and seasons change (gonna happen every time).
Same old friends the wind and rain, summers fade and roses die,
Youll see summer come again, like a song thats born to soar the sky.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Cold, clear, and blue the morning heaven

Cold, clear, and blue the morning heaven
Expands its arch on high;
Cold, clear, and blue Lake Werna's water
Reflects that winter sky:
The moon has set, but Venus shines,
A silent, silvery star.

Will the day be bright or cloudy?
Sweetly has its dawn begun;
But the heaveb may shake with thunder
Ere the settling sun.

Lady, watch Apollo's journey;
Thus thy first hour's course shall be;
If his beams through summer vapours
Warm the earth all placidly,
Her days shall pass like a pleasant dream in sweet tranquility.

If it darken, if a shadow
Quench his rays and summon rain,
Flowers may open, buds may blossom,
Bud and flower alike are vain;
Her days shall pass like a mournful story in care and tears and pain.

If the wind be fresh and free,
The wide skies clear and cloudless blue,
The woods and fields and golden flowers
Sparkling in sunshine and in dew,
Her days shall pass in Glory's light the world's drear desert through.

poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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
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Primrose

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole--
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks--
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the flange of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree--
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes--
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.

poem by William Carlos Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Petals

Shes the angel on top of the tree
Sugarheart, here she comes
Shes going to fall on me
Innocence was our fire
We told the truth
I miss the sweet boys
In the summer of their youth
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
They will make you so
So cynical
The fire burns, the flesh destorys
The past that made us old
Shes the grace of this world
Shes too pure
For the likes of this world
This world is a whore
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
I wait till mine and
Hey, its all mine
Hey, its all mine
Never knew what I could be
All the darling buds of may
They fall with no sound
They carry you down
They carry you down
Ooooooooo, ooooooh
Ooooooooo
All the lillies bloomed and blossomed
Wilted and theyre shivering
I cant stop their withering,
Oh, this world is a war
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you

song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roses

Oh, wind of the spring-time, oh, free wind of May,
When blossoms and bird-song are rife;
Oh, joy for the season, and joy for the day,
That gave me the roses of life, of life,
That gave me the roses of life.

Oh, wind of the summer, sing loud in the night,
When flutters my heart like a dove;
One came from thy kingdom, thy realm of delight,
And gave me the roses of love, of love,
And gave me the roses of love.

Oh, wind of the winter, sigh low in thy grief,
I hear thy compassionate breath;
I wither, I fall, like the autumn-kissed leaf,
He gave me the roses of death, of death,
He gave me the roses of death.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Planted a Rose Tree

I planted a rose tree in my garden,
In early days when the year was young;
I thought it would bear me roses, roses,
While nights were dewy and days were long.

It bore me once, and a white rose only--
A lovely rose with petals of light;
Like the moon in heaven, supreme and lonely;
And the lightning struck it one summer night.

poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Don't Stop Loving Me When I'm Old

Our love rose with the fall of golden leaves
rough winter roots for gentle plants in spring.
It seems we were planted in earth, grew together,
and blossomed together.
When I pass, place a rose petal on my grave.

Sweet love is born out of souls; outside winds whistles;
stars and moon twinkles…All God’s handmaids.
In obedient to my heart, I entrust me to you.
Now, let’s continue on down lover’s lane,
Walking alongside grass holding
Baby shrubs on her lap.
Straining our ears we hear bird
Singing songs of praise
Reminding us of the good old days.

When clouds no longer hold the rain;
will you shower me with your love?
When my head is covered with snow;
will you forever be my beau?
When my eyes cease to be my panes
Will your arms my cane,
Please don’t stop loving me because I’m old.

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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La Mélinite: Moulin Rouge

Olivier Metra's Waltz of Roses
Sheds in a rhythmic shower
The very petals of the flower;
And all is roses,
The rouge of petals in a shower.

Down the long hall the dance returning
Rounds the full circle, rounds
The perfect rose of lights and sounds,
The rose returning
Into the circle of its rounds.

Alone, apart, one dancer watches
Her mirrored, morbid grace;
Before the mirror, face to face,
Alone she watches
Her morbid, vague, ambiguous grace.

Before the mirror's dance of shadows
She dances in a dream,
And she and they together seem
A dance of shadows;
Alike the shadows of a dream.

The orange-rosy lamps are trembling
Between the robes that turn;
In ruddy flowers of flame that burn
The lights are trembling:
The shadows and the dancers turn.

And, enigmatically smiling,
In the mysterious night,
She dances for her own delight,
A shadow smiling
Back to a shadow in the night.

poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Perfect Roses

Center bud widens
petals spreading panoptically
sucking in Spring warmth
hot Summer’s heat
sun rays of Autumn’s
dying coolness
Winter’s frigidity

steadfastly clinging
to her winding vine
heart of Rose
invites sweet halcyon
breath hot Helios breathes
from age unknown
until he kisses earth
one final time to bid his Rose
farewell

La Luna’s Rose
her perfect counterpart
stands perfectly erect
in azure arms full-wrapping him
in all her balmy rapture
of bright night
her shades and shadows
dancing in wet fields of dew

Both Rose’s on one vibrant
verdure bed
amidst unseeing
sexless denizens
remained as one entwined
protective thorns their sentries
every step full-armed
against intrusive arms
whose plucking fingers
still, remain at large

By night, one stately Rose
embraces with his petals, wet,
one lovely Rose upon her
floral bed to sounds of Epithalmion
uttered sweetly by mute minstrels
echoed in the night
two Roses: red
the other, white.

poem by Lorenzo Costigliolo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The BLACK ROSE

I've kissed the petal of the black rose as the morning dew blushed its black hue. I felt a passion beyond anything I knew, a flame, a fire, a burning desire for the black rose its petals to unfold, its beauty to behold. Your Love had me entangled upon your vine I dangled, Chained to the black rose petals I wrangled. Upon your bed in the early dew I found a colored rose petal, another heart that throbbed for you a flame that burned now an amber. Who too had thought you true and kissed the black rose petals blushing hue. Those barbed thorns upon your vine; so sharp; the lies, the deceit, the cheat; they cut, tear, bleed and don't prepare for the hurt they leave. Bold and daunting were you in your haunting. I wanted love but it was my soul you stole. In the ice cold blight of the winter night the black rose had froze. I cried, in the glistening icy snow; for the black rose had no heart to with stand the blight of that winter night. What it had was a cold heart with sharp thorns to enfold, the last cold kiss of death on the black rose shows I have no love to share or hold.

poem by Vanita Allgood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sailor's Garden

There's a soft wind singing in the idle rigging,
High tide splashing, and a young pale moon,
Lights in a window and a fiddle jigging
Over and over there the same short tune.

Oh, was it the tide along the ship's side sighing,
Or was it the sighing wind that breaths and blows,
Came like a voice across the deep crying,
Set my heart a-thinking how my garden grows?

Five years ago it was I planted roses,
Five years ago (the bush is grown a tree):
Five years ago, and once I've seen my posies,
Five years ago - and once they bloomed for me!

I was home in Spring, bloom was in May then,
Birds all were building and buds were on the tree!
When the birds were flown, oh, I was far away then;
When the rose was open I was far at sea.

I was home in autumn; winds of cold November
Shaking the leaf that shivered on the tree;
Brown leaves that sighed of sorrow to remember
Flowers that had fallen and I far at sea.

Oh, many are the roads that lead you here and yonder,
Oh, many are the ways about the world that go;
But the longest way of all's the sailor's way to wander
To the good North Country and an Isle I know.

Oh, many are the winds about the seas a-singing,
Oh, many are the songs they sing both night and noon:
But whether it be good or ill that they come bringing
The best of all's the wind that blows us home in June.

Home, home in June - and soon to be a-going;
Home, home in June - we may not long remain;
Home, home in June, just to see the garden growing,
And then fare you well till you greet us home again.

poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Past Tense

long, long time ago
in the past tense of my life
there was once a rosey rose
with a beauty sharper than a knife
spoiled by every dropp of rain
on her petals so reddish as blood
playful in such childish vain
though never she had to leave her bud