Gloire de Dijon
When she rises in the morning
I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her
Glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow
Golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.
She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
Glisten as silver, they crumple up
Like wet and falling roses, and I listen
For the sluicing of their rain-dishevelled petals.
In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Related quotes
Roses In Madrid
Roses, Senors, roses!
Love is subtly hid
In the fragrant roses,
Blown in gay Madrid.
Roses, Senors, roses!
Look, look, look, and see
Love hanging in the roses,
Like a golden bee!
Ha! ha! shake the roses--
Hold a palm below;
Shake him from the roses,
Catch the vagrant so!
High I toss the roses
From my brown palm up;
Like the wine that bubbles
From a golden cup.
Catch the roses, Senors,
Light on finger tips;
He who buys red roses,
Dreams of crimson lips!
Tinkle! my fresh roses,
With the rare dews wet;
Clink! my crisp, red roses,
Like a castanet!
Roses, Senors, roses,
Come, Hidalgo, buy!
Proudly wait my roses
For thy rose's eye
Be thy rose as stately
As a pacing deer;
Worthy are my roses
To burn behind her ear.
Ha I ha! I can see thee,
Where the fountains foam,
Twining my red roses
In her golden comb!
Roses, Donnas, roses,
None so fresh as mine,
Pluck'd at rose of morning
By our Lady's shrine.
Those that first I gather'd
Laid I at her feet,
That is why my roses
Still are fresh and sweet.
Roses, Donnas, roses!
Roses waxen fair!
Acolytes my roses,
Censing ladies' pray'r!
Roses, roses, roses!
Hear the tawny bull
Thund'ring in the circus--
Buy your arms full.
Roses by the dozen!
Roses by the score!
Pelt the victor with them--
Bull or Toreador!
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Golden Roses
Golden Roses just for you,
anyone can give red roses,
theres plenty around,
for you white roses,
won't do.
Golden Roses just for you,
none other will do,
for someone special
so rare and true.
Golden Roses just for you,
dipped in pure gold,
just as your heart
has dipped your love into mine,
and shall not depart.
wrote 1-2-07
A Song Of Roses
'Tis time to sing of roses: of roses all ablow,
To every vagrant passing breeze they dip a courtesy low,
'Tis time to sing of roses! for June is here, you know.
One song for true love's roses of sweetest deepest red,
Some heart will wear you faithfully when life itself hath fled,
And for the white rose sing a song--the white rose for the dead.
And ah! the yellow roses, of brightest, lightest gold,
King Midas must have touched their leaves in mystic days of old,
Or they were made of sunshine, and gilded, fold by fold.
And the roadside rose, sweet-briar, we would remember thee
And the cinnamon rose that evermore enthralls each passing bee,
You old, old-fashioned roses, a-growing wild and free.
'Tis time to sing of roses! of roses all ablow!
They come again, as sweet, my dear, as those of long ago.
'Tis time to sing of roses! for June is here you know.
poem by Virna Sheard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
Venus in the Garden
'Twas at early morning,
The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,
When in a sweet, embowered garden
She, the fairest of the goddesses,
The lovely Venus,
Roamed amongst the roses white and red.
She sought for flowers
To make a garland
For her golden head.
Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,
In that sweet garden close,
Offered incense to the goddess:
Both the white and the crimson rose.
White roses, red roses, blossoming:
But the fair Venus knew
The crimson roses had gained their hue
From the hearts that for love had bled;
And the goddess made a garland
Gathered from the roses red.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Cold Roses
The mirrors in the room go black and blue
On a Sunday morning in her Saturday shoes
We don't choose who we love
We don't choose
The lights over the Midway melt on the street
In a Sunday shoes, with her Saturday feet
She don't love who he choose
She don't need what she use
Daylight comes and exposes
Saturday's bruises and cold roses
Cold roses
Nothing but the sunlight will help you grow
From underneath your bed you can't see the window
We don't choose what we see
We don't choose
Fortunate and angry just like a child
All that money buys you medicine but can't buy you time
We don't choose what we love
And she don't need what she got
Daylight comes and exposes
Saturday's bruises and cold roses
Cold roses
Cold roses
Cold roses
Cold roses
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Roses
The pains of love are evident
from the buttonholes I see.
They are always adorned
with blue roses.
The smiles have disappeared,
sadness glows in their eyes
and always there to see
are blue roses.
Blue Roses and the ache in their heart.
Blue roses and sadness they cannot conceal.
Blue roses the colour of their day
now that love has gone astray.
6 October 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Path Of Roses
path of roses
i took the path full of roses
endured the love of roses
to strain my emotion
and torture my innocence
smiled with me in roses
yet to pain me with roses
left alone by the roses
discovered on the roses
climb me an emotion of roses
and lend me a rose of roses
to torture my innocence
and surely strain my emotion
to endure the love of roses
in this path full of roses
i hope we can cross this
out and cut the roses
and trade to the far east
if you want it…
it is a path of so many roses
in variety and kind, of roses
-
contributory poem by: onalethuso petruss ntema
©opn27042012/0947
inspired by: gomotsegang sebadieta's life is a rose and ode to my mother mrs. sebadieta (2012)
-
(r) ntema's unique poetry (nup)
email: [email protected]
[email protected]
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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The Holy Rosary (Roses to Mother Mary)
Roses that can never fade;
Roses white and red in shade;
Roses that are heaven-made;
Roses in Mary’s crown laid!
Roses from the hearts that pray;
Roses blossoming night, day;
Roses living all the way;
Roses fit for any Fay!
Roses that will always stay;
Roses brighter than sun’s ray;
Roses everlasting, Aye!
Roses that she can’t say, ’nay’!
The spiritual best weapon,
That brings favors from her son,
That serves to solve problems mundane,
And makes souls fit for life divine!
‘PRAYERS THAT YOU CAN SAY ALL LIFE
TO KEEP AWAY FROM EVERY STRIFE! ’
dedicated to the 'Holy Family Church Grotto' Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-12-10
poem by John Celes
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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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Blue Roses Just For You
Blue Roses Just For You,
to show my love,
desire, to hold you tight,
know this we our right.
Blue Roses Just For You,
my heart so full
over flowing now, and
remembering our vow.
Blue Roses Just For You,
with your tenderness,
here for a while, I'll stay,
while you make my heart sway.
Blue Roses Just For You,
to show my love,
give I these roses to you my dear,
hope to spend with you, many a year.
wrote 1-12-07
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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My Loss
IN the world was one green nook I knew,
Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
Whitest roses ever pearled with dew;
And their sweetness was beyond delight,
Was all love's delight.
Wheresoever in the world I went,
Roses were; for in my heart I took
Blow and blossom and bewildering scent;
Roses never with the summer spent,
Roses always ripening in that nook,
Love's far summer nook.
In the world a soddened plot I know
Blackening in this chill and misty air,
Set with shivering bushes in a row,
One by one the last leaves letting go:
Wheresoe'er I turn I shall be there,
Always sighing there.
Ah, my folly! Ah, my loss, my pain!
Dead, my roses that can blow no more!
Wherefore looked I on our nook again?
Wherefore went I after autumn's rain,
Where the summer roses bloomed before,
Bloomed so sweet before?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Roses in the Valley
roses roses in the valley below
peaking up from the dead ground we know
one lil angle stands there crying
but not a single rose is dying
she tries to take flight with thorns in her wings
white is turning to deep deep red
red just like the roses she looks down upon
with thorns made red, and tears rolling down
the angel is dying with every tear that falls
the roses with petals of silk
shall catch the angel who's wings are no longer white as milk
now she lays down to stay
in a valley of roses that will live everyday
i am the angel
the angel that can no longer fly away
my dreams live on
like the roses, each and every day
poem by Sally Minns
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I Want To Sleep On A Bed Of Roses
I want to sleep on a bed of roses,
I want their fragrance to invade our senses,
In the velvet dark night i want you there by my side,
You and me on a bed of roses.
Was just the sunset and it's coming the night,
When love exists, even the silence is full with light,
I want to share my dreams only with you,
You and me on a bed of roses.
And when the sun rise up and light came in,
I want to wake up gently and to feel like a queen,
Surrounded by petals, with a velvet touch,
You and me on a bed of roses.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Nature's Gift
Being the only flower bearing yellow petals
Growing tall in the center of nature’s garden
Reflecting the sunlight and dancing in
The gentle early springtime breeze-
My stem would bend perhaps and
Perhaps touch the thorns of pink and red roses-
Though only for the moment-
Roses being the most popular blossoms,
People would come and cut them down,
Place them in a vase where they would
Fragrantly and aesthetically decorate their home-
For just a few days before they wither and die-
Being a wildflower, no one cares to cut me down-
Today all of the other flowers have seemingly disappeared,
Either removed by residents of nearby homes or
Their petals blown away by an occasional gust of wind-
I remain alone amongst grasses and forever growing weeds.
Being the only flower amongst grasses, weeds, shrubs and trees,
I am content to be present – enchanted when the rain falls and
Having the space for my petals to spread and open-
So different from the roses, though beautiful to see-
Shall be robbed of their glory, cut and a few days later
They shall perish and be thrown away.
Being beautiful and loved by people has always been
Nearly everybody’s greatest dream, but for me-
Perhaps not as fragrant and lovely to look at-
Being none but an ordinary wild flower, though
I am delighted to be part of nature’s bounty- and
I believe that a longer life,
Being here to experience continued growth, and
Basking in the sunlight day by day and then
Sometimes feeling refreshed by the moisture of the rain-
Is more meaningful and is more rewarding than
Beauty, popularity and fragrance that often
Terminates even before we see the season end..
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Marigolds (Novelinee)
Like the morning glory you worship the sun
opening golden fold upon golden fold
following it from the time the day begun
as if that starry thing you do behold
longing for its shining white hot rays
as if watching while it is moving on
opening sunny day upon sunny day
and closing just as soon as it is gone
as if its love to you is the only one.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Very Hurt Poem
Last night
moon was following me
discreetly,
skirting behind the trees.
A white splendor
drips,
like a dropped coin
on poor’s hand.
Did you see the blood
on roses?
The petals were wounded
in rain.
Casual violence
spreads in the streets.
I write a very hurt
poem.
poem by Satish Verma
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In The Early Morning [2]
In the early morning
dew covers every piece of grass and flower
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground
that appears after the first rain,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
Some dew covers every piece of grass and flower,
and new buds appear
on long green stems,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
in an aromatic existence.
At dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
on long green stems,
butterflies appear new from there metamorphoses
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays,
at dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
bees and butterflies fly to and thro
in the early morning
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Winter's Pale Roses
Winter's pale roses
Always long for cold
On windows frosty poses
Until the ice can't hold
They give sliver threads
Of shining glow beauty
Hue of gray and reds
As morning comes to be
Like summer beauty doses
That fragrance much gives
Are those frosty roses
That inside my window lives
I'm feeling so much of joy
By having them around
When warmth they'll destroy
They'll in my heart be found
For all of beauty wakes
Within our soul and being
And all it sometimes takes
Is inner perception freeing
With love you have to shine
Like silver golden strings
And you will be doing fine
If beauty to you it brings
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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