Related quotes: THE world's a path all...

Special Pleading

THE world's a path all fresh and sweet,
A sky all fresh and fair,
With daisies underneath your feet
And roses for your hair;
Red roses for your pretty hair,
Green trees to shade your way,
And lavish blossoms everywhere,
Because the time is May.

How gold the sun shines through the green!
How soft the turf is spread!
How richly falls the shimmering sheen
About your darling head!
How in the dawn of Paradise
Should you foresee the night?
How, with the sunlight in your eyes,
See aught beyond the light?

The world's a path all rough and wild,
A sky all black with fears,
Among the ghosts, unhappy child,
You stumble, blind with tears;
The track is faint, and far the fold,
And very far the day:
Unless you have a hand to hold,
How will you find the way?

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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It Must Have Been The Roses

Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Ten years the waves roll the ships home from the sea,
Thinkin well how it may blow in all good company,
If I tell another what your own lips told to me,
Let me lay neath the roses, till my eyes no longer see.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
One pane of glass in the window,
No one is complaining, no, come in and shut the door,
Faded is the crimson from the ribbons that she wore,
And its strange how no one comes round any more.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ramblings At 1: 37

the background
is a garden of roses

fresh red roses
with lots of thorns

and then the white lady
with falling hair comes

with a pair of scissors
and the roses fear no more

for their daily deaths
their executioner is here

this art, this lady with
a commitment to cut

the finer and more beautiful ones
as offering

for her long dead husband
crushed by a war

of suppression and depression
face derided

face off, slashed wrist and
compulsory writs

she picks one for me
and i write one crazy poem for her

just being fair
to madness and art and
compulsion

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Discouraging Model

Just the airiest, fairiest slip of a thing,
With a Gainsborough hat, like a butterfly's wing,
Tilted up at one side with the jauntiest air,
And a knot of red roses sown in under there
Where the shadows are lost in her hair.

Then a cameo face, carven in on a ground
Of that shadowy hair where the roses are wound;
And the gleam of a smile, O as fair and as faint
And as sweet as the master of old used to paint
Round the lips of their favorite saint!

And that lace at her throat-- and fluttering hands
Snowing there, with a grace that no art understands,
The flakes of their touches-- first fluttering at
The bow-- then the roses-- the hair and then that
Little tilt of the Gainsborough hat.

Ah, what artist on earth with a model like this,
Holding not on his palette the tint of a kiss,
Nor a pigment to hint of the hue of her hair
Nor the gold of her smile-- O what artist could dare
To expect a result half so fair?

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hymm to the Winds

To you, troop so fleet,
That with winged wandering feet,
Through the wide world pass,
And with soft murmuring
Toss the green shades of spring
In woods and grass,
Lily and violet
I give, and blossoms wet,
Roses and dew;
This branch of blushing roses,
Whose fresh bud uncloses,
Wind-flowers too.
Ah, winnow with sweet breath,
Winnow the holt and heath,
Round this retreat;
Where all the golden morn
We fan the gold o’ the corn,
In the sun’s heat.

poem by Joachim du Bellay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dark Hour

And now, when merry winds do blow,
And rain makes trees look fresh,
An overpowering staleness holds
This mortal flesh.

Though well I love to feel the rain,
And be by winds well blown --
The mystery of mortal life
Doth press me down.

And, In this mood, come now what will,
Shine Rainbow, Cuckoo call;
There is no thing in Heaven or Earth
Can lift my soul.

I know not where this state comes from --
No cause for grief I know;
The Earth around is fresh and green,
Flowers near me grow.

I sit between two fair rose trees;
Red roses on my right,
And on my left side roses are
A lovely white.

The little birds are full of joy,
Lambs bleating all the day;
The colt runs after the old mare,
And children play.

And still there comes this dark, dark hour --
Which is not borne of Care;
Into my heart it creeps before
I am aware.

poem by William Henry Davies
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Roses Can Be

If roses can be
yellow
pink
red
white
And still be roses

If hair can be
red
blonde
brunette
black
And still be hair

If eyes can be
green
blue
brown
hazel
And still be eyes

Then why can't humans be
black
white
hispanic
asian
And still be accepted?

Why can't people be
special
different
unique
original
And still be people?

If roses can be
yellow
pink
red
white
And still be roses.....

poem by Jennifer Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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

poem by John Celes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rainbow hued roses
falling down over your hair
a fresh after rain

haiku by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Distant Worlds

who does not like to put some
yellow daisies on your black glossy hair?

you become so beautiful with a chain of yellow
daisies in your hair

where i can possibly touch them and caress them
and how would you know that this is more than just putting a chain of
daisies in your black hair?

you shall never know and that is good enough for me
for i am the simplest man that puts those chain of yellow daisies in your hair

no prince charming for you, nothing special
just another common friend putting those usual yellow daisies in your hair

when our hands touch by accident
how would you know that i have become a forest burning?

this burning fire that is softly killing me
how would you know? your world is open and mine is closed.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Want More Hair?

I'd love
I think
more hair
more hair
like a big
old grizzly bear
more hair makes
you manly
more hair
makes you tough
more hair feels
like carpet
more hair keeps
you rough
more hair
for pretty ladies
to rub their faces on
more hair for
guys to jealous of
and more locks that can
be flung
I think more hair would be awesome
but I wouldn't wanna overdo it
because too much hair would make
me like a little furry blanket
and I couldn't cover both of us
just you and that ain't fair
more hair!

poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Roses

He placed a rose in my nut-brown hair--
A deep red rose with a fragrant heart
And said: 'We'll set this day apart,
So sunny, so wondrous fair.'

His face was full of a happy light,
His voice was tender and low and sweet,
The daisies and the violets grew at our feet--
Alas, for the coming of night!

The rose is black and withered and dead!
'Tis hid in a tiny box away;
The nut-brown hair is turning to gray,
And the light of the day is fled!

The light of the beautiful day is fled,
Hush'd is the voice so sweet and low--
And I--ah, me! I loved him so--
And the daisies grow over his head!

poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood

In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.

In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.

In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.

poem by Andrew Blakemore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fresh

Magical twisted river winding through the land before time
Silhouettes of lovers dancing on the sands
The birds first break of chourus into the morning light
And the first kiss of the sun on trees extracting from them glorious shades of green

Fresh is the kiss of the young lovers as they stand holding hands
Fresh is the morning breeze briskly brushing through their hair
Fresh the first sip of crystal waters scooped lovingly into his hand
Fresh her lips pressed against his in an embrace of innocence

The scent of her more than any man in his lifetime can imagine
His masucline features more than any young girl could resist
As they press themselves closer together entwined they realise
On this first day of forever this is the beginning of time

New love and creation set forth on this day of days
The whole world seemingly new and refreshed with most astounding simplicity
Carefree as the wind they walk together
This is eternity this is the beginning this is the end, this is their time

poem by Nikki Hays
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blood Red Poem

Red is the color of Evil
Evil feels like fire burning on your hands
Red sounds like fresh Misery in the air
Misery is like suffering
Red taste like a fresh wound of blood
A vampire made that wound
Red smells like dozin of roses
Roses sitting by a grave

poem by Jacalyn Lopez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The signs of you

There are stars,
not in the night
but in your eyes.

Stars shining
with a own ferocity
glowing like amber gemstones.

There’s autumn not in the trees
but in your hair
that hang rust brown
like copper wires.

Hair glistening
as if the sun
gets a own life
in every particle.

There are roses
not in your garden,
but caught on your cheeks.

Roses witnessing of life
and innocence
bubbling through you.

There are words
not on your lips,
but in every verse that you write.

Words uncovering your depths
and telling me of your love.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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