A Rose-bud advises man…
I asked a rose-bud, ‘who gave you your beauty? ’
And it replied, ‘my mother’s sap gave me! ’
I asked again, ‘who gave your mother plant, its sap? ’
It said, ‘the soil and rain by roots, the sun through leaves! ’
I asked the rose-bud, ‘who gave the soil, sun and rain such abilities? ’
It replied, ‘the One who made all things, and you and me! ’
And now the rose-bud asked me, ‘But why do you ask such questions?
Are you not made beautiful too by the same One,
Who made me, the moon, sky, soil and sun?
And yet, like you, we cannot walk or run! ’
It continued, ‘we plants feel sad we cannot move like how you do! ’
‘We buds grow bigger by each dawn;
The Maker feels so happy when we’re born,
And smiles on seeing us each morn,
Turning ecstatic, when we blossom on,
The landscape to perfume and to adorn –
By morrow, most of us are almost gone! ’
I asked the rose-bud, ‘are the dew-drops then because you cry? ’
And it replied, ‘they are the tears of joy and sadness of God on high,
Who knows we are born to sooner die.’
But tell me man, such questions, you ask, ‘why? ’
The rose-bud went on:
‘God gave you man, woman, a long life-span;
And do many things, you surely can! ’
God made you far more beautiful!
Be satisfied and be dutiful;
God is our Master One, most wonderful!
Praise Him, thank Him for all His gifts to you, bountiful! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-2-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
This And That
I ASKED FOR BREAD!
A STONE THEY GAVE ME!
I ASKED FOR WATER!
A CUP OF VENOM THEY GAVE ME!
I ASKED FOR MEAT!
LO! VEGETABLES THEY GAVE ME!
I ASKED FOR CLOTHES!
AND THEY GAVE ME RAGS!
I ASKED FOR WEALTH!
AND THEY GAVE ME POVERTY!
I ASKED FOR PEACE!
AND THEY GAVE ME TROUBLES!
I ASKED FOR LOVE!
AND THEY GAVE ME WICKEDNESS!
TEMPT NOT THIS LORD!
ASK ME NOT FOR HELP!
FOR I SHALL GIVE TO YOU AS YOU GAVE TO ME!
TEMPT ME NOT I SAY!
ASK ME NOT FOR THIS!
FOR I SHALL GIVE YOU THAT!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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A Dozen Red Roses
God told me to take fifty dollars,
And buy a dozen red roses;
To give them to strangers,
Just as His Spirit impresses.
I gave the first red rose to a homeless man,
Who was sitting on a street curb.
He looked so stunned as he accepted,
But his eyes filled with tears of joy superb.
I then took the subway
That was rather busy.
I saw a mother who looked stresssed;
So gave her a red rose of mercy.
She smiled sweetly, as I walked away.
I sensed this red rose was special;
Gave her a sense of worthiness,
Made me feel like her guardian angel.
The Spirit led me to nine others,
Who were very touched indeed,
By a stranger gifting red roses;
An unusual type of deed.
As I left the train station,
I was led into a nearby hospital.
I asked to whom I should give;
This last red rose, so beautiful.
I was led into a room,
Where a small boy was dying of cancer.
Too weak to take the last rose;
I placed it on his dresser.
He looked at the beautiful red rose;
He could smell its perfume.
Tears fell down his tiny face.
I thanked God for this red rose mission,
As I left the young boy’s room.
Sometimes God asks us,
To do things that may seem strange.
But, in His wisdom, love is His exchange.
The red roses were a token
Of our Saviour’s love
sacrificially given to His children—
Hearts touched from heaven above.
poem by Maureen Lefanue
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My Daughter Tanya
My Daughter Tanya
In my dreams I saw a gorgeous Pink rose
Heavenly soul wanted me to have it in my garden
I woke up and started thinking of it
Winter came and the weather grew cold
Beautiful single rose grew out of moist soil
Rain water harvested my rose well
It grew straight bloomed in spring
Flourished in summer
Scent was lovely everyone knew
Petals were very soft and shiny
Little rose bud was clad in pink petals
You were sent to me from God,
In the shape of gorgeous pink rose
With the sweetness of all honey bees
As soon as spring revealed itself.
I found Pink rose in my house
Its beauty gave me a sense of power
Its presence gave me the taste of mother hood
I have made it comprehensible
This is you my elder daughter Tanya
I love you dear
poem by Dr Shamim ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Asked God
“When I Asked God for Strength
He Gave Me Difficult Situations to Face
When I Asked God for Brain & Brown
He Gave Me Puzzles in Life to Solve
When I Asked God for Happiness
He Showed Me Some Unhappy People
When I Asked God for Wealth
He Showed Me How to Work Hard
When I Asked God for Favors
He Showed Me Opportunities to Work Hard
When I Asked God for Peace
He Showed Me How to Help Others
God Gave Me Nothing I Wanted
He Gave Me Everything I Needed.”
poem by Shivani Nalkar
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The red rose flower, asked god
The red rose flower
Asked god
You have given me
Beautiful look
Sweet fragrance
Eye catching color
Everybody likes me
However,
Why have you given?
Thorns to my plant
God replied
No one gets every thing
He wants
Even all my children
Are not nice
I gave thorns to
Your plant
To protect you from
Careless hands
You should be contented
With what you have
Always bear in mind
Other flowers on the earth
Do not have
Even half the qualities
You have
02-03-2012
280-15-03-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Lord Is Always Joking At Me
My lord is always joking at me.
When I asked for a bicycle
he gave me a car.
When I asked for a computer
he gave me a mobile phone.
When I asked for a book
he gave me a pen and a pad of paper.
When I ask for money
he gave me some trees.
When I asked for a bedroom
he gave me a house with a garden
that has many flowers....
My lord is always joking at me!
Though my lord is always joking at me
I know he loves me, anyway.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Did You Manage
Ooh mmm, ooh yeah
Ooh mmm-mmm-mmm
Ooh mmm, ooh uh
Ooh uh-uh-uh-uh
You made the sun
You made the moon
Gave seasons change
(Whoa)
You made the clouds
You put the rainbow
After the rain
(Whoa)
Created time
Now which one's mine
Gave pictures frames
(Whoa)
Created man
Gave him woman
Why did you do that for me?
These are the questions asked (these are the questions)
Before I lay me down and go to sleep (yeah, ooh sometimes I wonder)
Sometimes I wonder why you decided
To keep your hands on me (hands on me)
Of all the miracles, signs and wonders
There's still one mystery
How did you manage... to love me?
You breathe the life
Right into me
Then made my heart beat
(Whoa)
Created the mountains
All of the deep seas
Flowers and the trees
(Whoa)
You made tomorrow
Come again
You calm the strong winds
(Whoa)
And after all I've done
You gave me a son
Tell me why would you do that for me?
These are the questions asked (yeah)
Before I lay me down and go to sleep (right in the middle of my prayers)
Sometimes I wonder why you decided (oh yeah)
To keep your hands on me (hands on me)
Of all the miracles, signs and wonders
There's still one mystery
How did you manage... to love me?
(How did you manage that)
How did you manage... to love me?
Said I've got to know how...
(How did you manage to love me?)
After all the wrong I've done oh Lord, how...
(How did you manage to love me?)
After I've been so bad oh Lord, how...
(How did you manage to forgive me?) Oh I
Even when I didn't believe in me you believed in me Lord, how
(How did you manage to forgive me?)
Jesus you sacrificed your very life for me
(How did you manage to forgive me?)
Ohh Lord tell me...
(Why did you pay the price... for me?)
Whoo... you... why...
(How did you manage to love me?)
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rose-plant
A plant bore roses ten in number all,
And two got nipped when young by Nature’s way;
One blossomed to adorn God’s celestial throne;
Six bloomed becoming beauteous flowers big,
To put forth seed that fell on fertile soil,
That grew into rose-plants like their parents.
One still remains a flower big on mother-plant:
Weathered a bit, perfuming her landscape;
She yearned but could not turn into a seed!
Nevertheless, she bowed to Divine Will.
The soil was good in which the rose-plant grew,
Watered by rain and bathed by sun for years;
God’s grace and mercy nurtured her growth-curve;
Life’s storms and strife could not up-root the plant.
The mother-plant is very old in age;
Her life-partner left years back to God’s Home;
She lives by sheer will-pow’r, amidst her own,
And thanks the Maker for blessing her life;
God’s plans and ways are strange and mysterious;
Yet, earthlings must abide by Will Divine;
God gives us freedom to decide and act;
But Heaven must remain our goal always.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pink Dream
Rio sunrise sucking on a straw
I rub my head and stagger out the door
And head into the bright new beautiful day
And the way she pulls me in
Sucks my breath away i asked her for some time
And she just made me it
I asked her maybe why?
And she just gave me it never smile
Never stare
She doesn't seem to care at all
Never cry
Never scream
She doesn't really seem to need me at all
Fourteen weeks i stay away from home
A hundred days a part of me unknown
Apart in pink and perfect moments play
And as a wonder of the world
She sucks my breath away
I asked her for some time
And she just made me it
I asked her maybe why?
And she just gave me it
So i asked her could be heaven?
And she just prayed me it...
She didn't want to know my name
She didn't want to know how long we had together
Spending time as if tomorrow never comes
I didn't want to know the end
I didn't want to go but slowly found me home again
And slow again tomorrow comes
But it was all so far away
And so long ago
I hardly ever think about her anymore
Except sometimes when the summer twilight breeze
Carries me the scent of faraway rain
I remember...
And she still sucks my breath away
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Chimney Sweep - Victorian Times
What is above all these chimneys, I asked the young lad,
The chimney sweep boy replied,
Why Sir, it's the sky which is sometimes so blue,
That when I look up and glance at the view,
Such glory cannot be denied.
What lies in that sky then, I asked the young lad,
The boy gazing up now replied,
Oh Sir, clouds and sunshine, at night moon and stars,
Planets like Jupiter, Saturn and Mars,
What wonders out there can be spied?
Is your work very unbearable, I asked the young lad,
Most times Sir, it is, he replied,
From dawn until dusk, I'm climbing to sweep,
The soot from the chimneys, for my food and my keep,
My Master cannot be defied.
Do you 'welcome' the sky, I asked the young lad,
When I'm climbing, I do, he replied,
It's my friend when it's dark and the way up is hard,
Because sometimes I get burn't and then badly scarred,
There's many a time I have cried.
What then do you wish for, I asked the young lad,
With yearning, he slowly replied,
I would love to be free and fly like the birds,
Way up in the sky, and if I had the words,
Write about how I'd feel like inside.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bible Stories: Jonah (Part IV)
Chapter 4:
What God had done, displeased Jonah;
In angry mood, he prayed,
‘I knew You’ll show clemency, Lord,
That’s why at first, I fled! ’
‘You’re a gracious, merciful God,
You’re slow to punish men;
And this is what I had said then;
You’re slow to anger, Lord! ’
‘Lord, take away my life from me,
’Tis better, I be dead! ’
God asked him, ‘Is your anger just? ’
Jonah had not replied.
He left the city to its east,
And built him small a hut;
And in its shade, waited to see,
What happened to men, beast!
God made a gourd plant grow over,
To give him more of shade;
Jonah was happy with cover,
His discomfort did fade!
Next day, God sent a worm to kill
The plant which withered fast;
The scorching sun then made him ill,
To faint, he turned almost.
The sun made Jonah angry more,
‘Better I die, ’ he said;
When God asked him, he thus replied,
‘The plant’s death made me sore! ’
And then the Lord explained Jonah,
‘You feel for gourd, not own.
You neither sowed the seed, nor raised,
The plant that lived one night! ’
‘Concerned are you, about a plant
For which you labored not;
And when it perished over-night,
You’re angry enough to die! ’
‘Oh, should I not show concern for
Great Nineveh city?
One twenty thousand men live there,
And beasts- what a pity? ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-25-2007
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Roses for God as Offering
The roses that I place before Thee, God,
Do bless my offering this day, some way;
And help me do my duty well, O Lord,
Conforming to Thy divine way, I pray!
The rain You showered, helped the plant to grow;
The sun You shone gave it the nutrition;
The roots anchored it well in soil and oh,
The buds sprouted without inhibition!
The plant’s studded by flowers beautiful!
They are from You and they are Yours, I know;
They smell so well and look so wonderful;
Do accept them from me, O Lord for now!
I add my labour and my sacrifice,
O God; Your grace and blessings suffice!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 16-11-11
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Questions
I don't remember my first question asked
Might have been to my mother while in my crib I basked
Or maybe it was to my father when he kissed me goodnight
Then he said a prayer for me and then he turned off the light.
Many questions I have asked since the day I was born
Many questions I have answered and many I did mourn
Some of them were the truth, but them I had masked
I don't remember why, but I remember they were asked.
Questions are needed to understand our life
Answers are needed so we too might avoid strife
Life is full of questions and are as many as drops of rain
And like rain drops not two questions are really the same.
Questions will be a part of us until that day we die
We will come across them daily with who, what, where or why
I dread not the future, but I do dread the past
I also dread the day, not knowing which question of mine will be last.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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I Cant Ask For Anymore Than You
You could have been a bad girl
And wasted all my time
You could have got me mad girl
And made me lose my mind
But you did what you have to do
And every word you said to me was true
You gave me what I asked for
And I cant ask for anymore than you
It makes me very proud baby
To know that youre my girl
I want to say it loud baby
I want to tell the world
That you did what you had to do
And every word you said to me was true
You gave me what I asked for
And I cant ask for anymore than you
Ive got everything a man could need
Oh I feel just like a slave that has been freed
I wont cry myself to sleep no more
cause Ive found the love that Ive been looking for
Now I dont have a problem
cause I know who I am
You see I lost my only problem
When you made me your man
cause you did what you had to do
And every word you said to me was true
You gave me what I asked for
And I cant ask for anymore than you
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song of the Garden-Toad
Down, down beneath the daisy beds,
O hear the cries of pain!
And moaning on the cinder-path
They're blind amid the rain.
Can murmurs of the worms arise
To higher hearts than mine?
I wonder if that gardener hears
Who made the mold all fine
And packed each gentle seedling down
So carefully in line?
I watched the red rose reaching up
To ask him if he heard
Those cries that stung the evening earth
Till all the rose-roots stirred.
She asked him if he felt the hate
That burned beneath them there.
She asked him if he heard the curse
Of worms in black despair.
He kissed the rose. What did it mean?
What of the rose's prayer?
Down, down where rain has never come
They fight in burning graves,
Bleeding and drinking blood
Within those venom-caves.
Blaspheming still the gardener's name,
They live and hate and go.
I wonder if the gardener heard
The rose that told him so?
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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We are far away from us
Some sounds are remaining there
Even if I'm drowning in my tears
Memories of life dipping me to grief
I'm all alone in the door my life
Without you my life is empty
You're gone far away from me
And my heart travelling everywhere
To get you again in my life.......
Neither I find you nor you meet me
You're gone far away from me
I gave you love
I gave you happiness
But you gave me grief
You gave me sadness
Now I'm cursing those moments
That I had spent with you
And I'm also far away from you.....
My Rose...
gift you a rose, ,
gift you my rose....
but my rose to you, is not like any rose in this world...
a rose drunk from my tears...
a rose that i take care about it by my soul...
a rose gave it a water by my blood...
and perfumed it by my love....
my rose to you, is not like an roses...
its color not like any colors...
its not a red...
and its not a white...
even not a yellow...
its color pick up from the suns` yellow color..
and mix from the seas` blue color...
and from my bloods` drops..
and from my tears...
so.. its color was mixed with my sadness and my love...
my rose to you, is not like any roses...
its perfume is not like any perfume..
its a mix between a loves` nectar...
and many of kindness, and honesty love...
my rose to you, is not like any roses...
raised inside my heart...
and takes a warm light, from my eyes` light...
and its food, from the hope, that we always wish...
and from our future, which will gather us to each others one day...
so please accept and take my rose...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
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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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Why Do Women Cry
I had gotten this from a friend, and the author is unknown
But it is so beautiful I decided to post it for others to read.
There was no title so I added my own title.
Why do women cry
Why are you crying? A young boy asked his mom.
Because I am a woman, she told him.
I don’t understand, he said.
His mom just hugged him and said:
And you never will, but that’s okay.
Later the little boy asked his father,
Why does mom seem to cry for no reason?
All women cry for no reason.
Was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man,
Still wondering why women cry.
Finally, he went on his knees and asked god:
GOD*** why do women cry so easily?
And god answered…
When I made women, I decided she had to be special.
I made her shoulders strong enough to carry
The weight of the world,
Yet her arms gentle enough to give comfort!
I gave her the inner strength to endure childbirth
And the rejection that many times will come
even from her own children!
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going
And take care of her family and friends,
Even when everyone else gives up, through
Sickness and fatigue, without complaint!
I gave her sensitivity to love her children
Under any and all circumstances, even when
her child has hurt her badly!
She has the very special power to make a Childs
Boo-boo feel better and to quell a teenagers
Anxieties and fears.
I gave her the strength to care for her husband,
Despite faults, and I fashioned her from his rib
To protect her heart!
I gave her the wisdom to know that a good husband
Never hurts his wife but sometimes tests
her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly!
Son, for all of this hard work…
I also gave her a tear to shed.
It is hers to use whenever needed and
Is her only weakness!
When you see her cry,
Tell her how much you love her
And all she does for everyone.
And even though she may still cry,
You will have made her heart feel good.
She is special! ! !
poem by Louis Rams
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The Purple Rose Of Cairo
The purple rose of Cairo is in my vase
Blooming away
I am enjoying this rose
The purple rose of Cairo
I know it won’t last long
But that is the perfect gift you gave me
It brightens up my dining room table
Thanks once again for giving me the
Purple rose of Cairo
A rose is so beautiful
It is one of God’s creations
Nobody can make a rose bloom so beautiful than God can
poem by Aldo Kraas
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