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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Related quotes
Of past relationships, plants and things
If I have to find a plant
of her
she wouldn’t have been a rose
as though it has thorns,
it has meaningful beauty
and it leaves an odour
that stays with you.
Although at a time
I thought that she’s a beautiful flower
I have to stay
far away from flowers
and try and get another plant,
because I will forever
search to find
the right flower.
An Umbrella-thorn bush
with shafts of thorns for me,
is probably the best description
that I will ever find
and where she touches me
it scratches till the blood appears.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They are sad
They are sad
Butterflies were dancing,
Bees were kissing him.
Bumble bee was sucking him
& children were seeing him with charm.
It was a marigold on the top of the plant.
On the other hand some thorns were seeing the glory of the flower
and
their eyes were full of thrust & tears
Because none was seeing them.
In the last they asked its reason from the flower.
The flower tells them the truth that
They are without beautiful colors,
Juice & fragrance
And he is full of colors, juice & fragrance
So every one likes him.
Another fact is this that the flower
is a symbol of peace & love.
On the other hand the thorn is a symbol of cruelty & pain.
I think that unaccountable people in this world
behave like a thorn so they are sad.
poem by Vijay Gupta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flowers of Thy Being
Being the human beings
Undiscerning is our Art
The thoughts are merely feeble
The Actions, unwise
Me Lord! Me Lord!
Helpless we are, careless as well
The Moment, Thy Person reflects Thy Art
Visible is evrything, discerning we are!
What is Thorn? What is Flower?
Demarkation is accessible
Numerous Thorns we come across
Thorns!
Maybe are the Idols!
Yeah, they are!
Our 'self' leads us to Idols
Thy 'Self' takes us towards Flowers:
The Flower of Thy Word!
The Flower of Thy Path!
The Flower of Thy Guidance!
The Flower is nothing else but Thy Being
O' Lord save us from Idols!
Protect us from Thorns I mean
Shower upon us just Thy Flowers
The Flowers of Thy Being
The Flowers of Thy Being
poem by Azhar Hameed
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A rose I am no more
If roses are the colors pink, red, yellow & white,
What happens if my rose is the color of black.
If all roses have their thorns,
What happens if my rose has lost its thorns.
If a rose that has no color & no thorns is no longer a rose,
Then a rose of color & thorns I am no more.
A rose I am no more, A rose I am no more.
poem by Beating Tree
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A Rose Amidst the thorns
Roses in profusion
bloomed along our garden wall.
They were both red and yellow-
tea hybrids, I recall.
There were thorns too,
as I well knew,
standing guard among the blooms.
A careless creature soon would learn
to give the rose wide berth
An agony of thorns awaits
the careless of the earth.
Yet thorns permit the bees to come
and pollen to transpose.
and, if careful, they'll admit
my own scent seeking nose
I think thorns serve their purpose well
else roses would be trampled
The thorns are roses' guardians
and not inconsequential.
Without a thorn, the rose, forlorn,
is destined for the ashes.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Wish I were a flower
Wonderful flower in the garden
A facet of nature's creative art
Soft lovely petals
Eye-catching colours
Heart rendering fragrance
Happily sways the flower on the plant
Though its life is only for a day
Least does it care for appreciation
Not a soul may notice it - Yet
it happily dances on the plant;
Wish I could be that flower.
poem by Brindha Saran
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Why Roses Have Thorns
Of all the flowers I've ever seen,
The lovely rose holds the most mystery.
Almost queenly in majestic beauty,
A thing of perfected artistry.
It comes in so many varied colors,
Its fragrance unique among all flowers,
A floral gem you'd enjoy for hours,
An exquisite rose is the flower of lovers.
But like a lady of wondrous charm,
Such beauty can cause a little harm.
The rose has thorns that make one bleed,
And hurts the hand that crushes it.
Some women like the rose have thorns,
When in their hearts true love is born.
The love you pledge do not forfeit-
A woman can bleed your heart....
and
crush it.
Copyright 2008 - Cynthia B. Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose With Thorns
The rose with thorns
Beautiful passion red rose
But dangerous with thorns
Picked off the garden
By a bard on
Realize he was bleeding
Thought roughly about his feelings
About why the rose had thorns
Never again would he pick up the red rose with thorns
The rose only brought him pain
Thoe he did not go insane
By wanting to stomp on it
But he just forfeit on it
He just let the rose there on the ground
And the rose was hoping it would be found
So the bard on
Left the garden
Checked his finger with the thorn pulled it out
finger was bleeding and never looked back at the rose with the thorns
poem by Jose antonio Torres galeana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody likes
Nobody likes
A plant
Without flower buds
A flower bud that does not
Bloom in to a flower
A flower
That is not beautiful
Nobody remembers
A flower
That does not have
An aromatic smell
A person
Who does not have a
Charming behavior
Whose deeds do not?
Spread
Aroma in the world
25-02-2012
244-155-02-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Flower of Love
'Tis said the rose is Love's own flower,
Its blush so bright, its thorns so many;
And winter on its bloom has power,
But has not on its sweetness any.
For though young Love's ethereal rose
Will droop on Age's wintry bosom,
Yet still its faded leaves disclose
The fragrance of their earliest blossom.
But ah! the fragrance lingering there
Is like the sweets that mournful duty
Bestows with sadly-soothing care,
To deck the grave of bloom and beauty.
For when its leaves are shrunk and dry,
Its blush extinct, to kindle never,
That fragrance is but Memory's sigh,
That breathes of pleasures past for ever.
Why did not Love the amaranth choose,
That bears no thorns, and cannot perish ?
Alas! no sweets its flowers diffuse,
And only sweets Love's life can cherish.
But be the rose and amaranth twined,
And Love, their mingled powers assuming,
Shall round his brows a chaplet bind,
For ever sweet, for ever blooming.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What do we plant when we plant a tree?
What do we get when we plant the tree?
We plant the ship which will cross the sea;
We plant the pencils to scribble our notes,
We plant the ballots to cast our votes;
We plant the paper in which we read,
The news that o'er wooden poles we speed,
We plant the piles to erect our docks;
We plant the rayon for shirts and socks.
What do we plant when we plant a tree?
We plant the houses for you and me;
We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors,
We plant the studding, the lath, the doors,
The beams and siding, all the parts that be;
We plant the house when we plant the tree,
We plant the barrel, the box, the crate;
In which to ship all sorts of freight.
What do we plant when we plant a tree?
A thousand things that we daily see,
We plant the spire that out-towers the crag,
We plant the staff for our country's flag;
We plant the shade from the hot sun free,
We plant all these when we plant the tree.
poem by Henry Abbey
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Falling Flowers
In the beginning I saw your smile…the unwithering flower…
I was dancing onside of thousand blooming flowers…
The bud’s fragrance was overwhelming silently.
That moment, I felt it in the town of wind with calm breeze.
Every tear and smile has a beginning and ending.
This time, my unwithering flower is falling down onto my tainted road…
The song of storm and fire take away all of my unwithering flowers.
The fragrance, the flower’s colours…everything is melt vastly.
Inside the locked remorse, I find a falling flower.
Inside the cold guiltiness, I start dancing and plant the flower.
This falling flower, I plant it…on the empty soil named despair.
This falling flower, I water it…with my tears named blood.
poem by Mizushi Hikari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Rose Of Sharon
I was living in an empty desert with no meaning to my life,
Then one day I found this beautiful Rose of Sharon, who is the living Christ.
And this lovely Rose forever blooms;
Its sweet fragrance has filled all my rooms.
It has no thorns; they've all been taken away,
I know this Rose is here to stay.
It brightens all my days, and is my dearest friend.
On this never changing Rose I can trust and depend.
This divine Rose of Sharon is so perfect and fair,
And it brings me peace, and love, and joy beyond compare.
Such a calm content feeling it sends,
Each heartache and pain it always mends.
I know in this life perfection I will never attain,
But since this Rose has left it's fragrance on me, I have never been the same,
And as I share this fragrance with those in need I see,
This beautiful Rose of Sharon will bloom in me.
poem by Evelyn Locke Irvin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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[My Little Green Plant]
I have a plant in my house.
Not a tree a shrub ore a shrew.
But a plant.
It's green and red and sparkle blue.
Healthy clean and sticky like glue.
Bold beautifully and fragrant to.
My little green plant, how I love you.
I love my plant all stretched out high.
When it's flowers open it reveals a surprise
Just imagine it as you close you're eyes.
My little green plant, always on my mind.
My plant is thirsty it needs special care.
Nutrients and light, without it would die.
Like a child growing up ill always be there.
12 weeks to grow, and not a care.
3 feed tall and producing air.
My little green plant with little red hairs.
The time has come that I must say good by,
my little green plant has grown up right.
I'll trim it nice and hold on tight,
my little green plant makes me happiest tonight.
I'll sow the seed and sign the deed,
my little green plants one hell of a weed.
Come on now people get your minds out of the gutter..... I'm just talking about sage! :)
poem by Seth Morrow
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Forget Me Nots
There are tiny little flowers
called Forget me Nots.
Today I shall plant them
in small little pots.
And as I plant and tend to them
I'll think of you sweet mom.
And as they grow in memory
they will keep me calm.
They'll grow in great abundance
with a color of dainty blue.
And every time I look at them
I'll remember you.
And because they are just annuals
I'll plant them new each year
so I can remember the sweetness of you
as if you were right here.
You'll never have to worry
that everything I've got
from you will ever leave me
for you were a forget me not.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sonnet: God’s Expectations Are Simple
No doubt, the Rose’s a beautiful flower,
And truthfully displays its fragrance sweet;
The Rose’s Rose, no matter what color!
But canker-blooms too appear, sweet and neat.
Endowed has God in each a quality!
Both flora, fauna, live up to His wish;
To God, ’tis same being clean or dirty?
One thing matters- the flavor of soul’s dish!
How can the blind live like the one with eyes?
How can the handicapped live like those without?
God knows each person’s moles, their color/ size;
We must avoid big sins without a doubt!
God knows your heart and every thought there-in;
To get to Heaven, please stay away from sin.
6-3-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Garden
I tilled my garden until my back did hurt
Then I planted the seeds into the earth
I covered them with the sweet, sweet dirt
Excitedly I will wait for their summer birth.
I will watch and feed them every single day
Row upon row as they are laid
I will protect them by keeping predators away
And I will remove the weeds that has strayed.
I will visit my plant's every morning when I awake
And I will stay with them till the time is late
Not any of my plant's could I ever forsake
They are part of me and they are my fate.
I gave them my sweat and I gave them life
Daily I will check their growth and enjoy their sight
They relieve my tension and help with my strife
When my day is done, to them I will say goodnight.
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anguish Thoughts
I saw a flower
Not so fresh, enchanting
It has no sweet smell as roses have.
But it has the thorns of roses.
If I touch a flower
I can tell its soft or rough
But all flowers are soft
Soft petals with sweet fragrance
Make a flower beloved.
But I can’t touch this flower
For it is dangerous.
But worms found its bed
And going to destroy my little flower.
Can this secret love
Destroy her crimson petals?
poem by Abdul Hakeem Parannur
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