Related quotes: I sat on my porch...

Blood red rose

I sat on my porch swing
With tears in my eyes
Knowing that this would be
Our last good-bye
No last kiss to soothe the pain,
You left me here all alone
with only this rose to my name.
why'd you have to leave
This blood red rose
Lying outside my door
You could have said good-bye
Without leaving me this sore.
The thorns they prick
The wounds of my heart,
Who knew that
They could be this sharp?

poem by Faith Franklin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

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.

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

Truth

I found our love shaped like a rose
on a lonely empty street,
It seems so strange, so sad, to find it
lying at my feet.

With quilty heart and teary eyes
I picked it from the dirt.
I wiped away the tears, the pain.
I wiped away the hurt.

I took it home and nurtured it,
spending hour after hour.
To make our red rose bloom again.
To save our love...the flower.

I cared for it and wept for it,
until one early morn.
the rose looked new, I grabbed in haste
and was needled by its thorn.

I found that lonely street again,
and like I knew I should,
I left the rose
I left the street
...and left our love for good.

-Perry Biggerstaff

poem by Perry Biggerstaff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

If That Is To Be My Experience

Please,
Do not remove the thorns from that rose.
I wish to experience every bit of it.
If I can not handle it and it should prick,
Let me be the obe to adjust to it.
I want to know what it is as it is.
Not what you wish me to believe,
To leave me to discover...
You decided to have me,
Think of it as something else.

Please,
Do not remove the thorns from that rose.
I've chosen it just the way it is...
Thorns and all.
I will never appreciate it,
If you make the decision...
To keep me from getting pricked.
If that is to be my experience...
Let it be.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Blood Red Rose Reborn

Dedicated to Rosse Nor with love and best wishes.

hate vile poison grey
pour revenge away
bitter is taste of decay

the rose was not born
bud into new bloom,
as a secret ceremonial mask
to hide dark rooted emotions,

it is time for the rose
to slip into new bud,
born of lessons learned,

to life spread in beauty,
petals spread overlapping
in sweet scented symmetry,

leave the past and dark souls,
to impale upon sharp thorns
their own prey flesh piercing,

leave the past and dark souls,
to impale upon discarded thorns
of your freedom spread leaving,

while you spread in new growth,
new bloom new beauty released
the blood red rose renewed reborn,

in moonlight in the dawn red
throughout the day of parched heat
the blood red rose fresh grows

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Guardian and BloodRose

BloodRose,
Rose of my love,
My love for Dark moon,
Dark as my heart,
Black as my soul,
And gave me my rose.

The rose of blood,
With petals soft and black,
Never as a rose so beautiful,
Grown not in light,
But under a dark moon lit sky.

Guardian,
Yes a guardian of BloodRose,
With teeth long and sharp,
Claws hard as diamonds,
Scales as dark as night.

My dear sweet guardian,
Guardian black as my heart,
Fire in your eyes,
Shadows in your soul,
A dragon of the dark moon.

A single rose,
With petals so fare,
As dark as my heart,
I now hold in my hand,
The rose of blood.

You are my darkness,
Fear of this love,
This love for you,
Love for darkness,
The cold shadows in my heart
That makes me yearn for you.

Now as you lay dying,
I hold a single rose,
The rose you gave me,
And as I hold it tight,
The thorns slice my hand,
Covered with blood,
My blood.

I have one fear,
The fear of death,
Symbol of my lost love,
Rose as dark as me,
Laying in a pool of blood,
Blood from me.

As I lay dying,
I remember my name,
BloodRose,
I am the rose of blood,
And I died of my own creation.

A creation of perfect beauty,
Petals dark black,
Thorns like small daggers,
Grown from my love,
My love for a dragon,
A dragon as dark as my heart.

Even in my death,
I think of you,
And the rose you gave me,
The rose that killed me,
The Rose of Blood.

poem by Nicolette Gonzalez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Without The Rose

Love is like a rose
good to hold and smell
but then that rose begins to die
and you go through hell

One thing you should know my friends
is that love can scorn
and just like life
every rose has it's thorns.

but as the rose you hold
withers and fades away
another rose has appeared
and your pains is taken away.

This cycle of life
no one will ever know
why we would fight amongst ourself
for that one single rose

And even though we try
to let our pain go
we can't do it
without that rose

poem by Shelbie Bozeman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Empty Bullring

Disappears through a window.
Out of my mind
Trying to keep him at home.
Out into Rome
In the early hours,
Leaving me here
Like Tamlaine in her Tower.
You are going
To the empty bullring,
Taking your red cloak
To regain something.
Oh, you rolling matador,
Kill in your eyes
For the toro
That shut the door
To glory and gore.
The throw of the rose--
It's all you lived for,
But you've lost it all.
Your red streak
On the plot where many feet
Left it incomplete.
But you kept the meaning.
You feel him charge again,
And you feel him cut you down
Right on the spot
Where you thought
You were ground for good.
These flights of fantasy
Make your wounds more sore,
But you've every right
To even grab at the last straw.
Oh, Lord...
Oh, you rolling matador,
Kill in your eyes
For the toro
That shut the door
To glory and gore.
The throw of the rose--
It's all you lived for,
But you've lost it all.

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose

Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose) it
blooms in my heart that rose(upon
me that grows, no matter where I leave
my heart dear(it loves on me to grow.
Bound up in thorns my love, I lay on beds
of them forever waiting to grow, with you
dear, as I bend to smell, that one red rose.

My heart is your rose, it climbs, and beats
when pricked, by the thorn, to be carried up
to every rose on the bush.My rose, your heart,
it blooms in love, each beat lifts to crown the
the heart, as the sun heats them both, to feed
each root that folds my heart back into the rose.
Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose;

poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Rose in the heart of rose

A Rose In The Heart Of Rose
it blooms in my heart
that rose upon me that grows,
no matter where I leave my heart
dear it loves on me to grow.
Bound up in thorns my love,
I lay on beds of them forever
waiting to grow, with you
dear, as I bend to smell, that one red rose.

My heart is your rose,
it climbs, and beats
when pricked, by the thorn,
to be carried up
to every rose on the bush.
My rose, your heart,
it blooms in love, each beat lifts to
crown the the heart, as the sun heats them
both, to feed each root that folds
my heart back into the rose.
Such a Rose In The Heart Of Rose

poem by Anees Akbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Kissed by a Rose

Kissed by a rose
With all the thorns
My eyes become large
And I can see a glow
I see you
Standing there by your grave
I walk slowly over to it
I kiss the rose
One more time
But my lips are cut
So my blood drips onto the rose
I plant the rose
On top of your grave
It blooms with red roses
Little droplets of blood
Dripping from the leaves
The light that you shine
Can be seen
You walk to the roses
And your light
Hits the blooms just right
I lay down on your grave
My power
My pleasure
My pain
I feel all of it
At the same time
Ive been kissed by a rose
On a grave

poem by Allison Unknown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Little Rose

Little rose,
What did you come from?
Little rose,
Look how beautiful you are.
Little rose,
With your soft peddles.
Little rose,
With your sharp thorns.
Little rose,
Why can't I pick you?

poem by Jameaka Shibles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Red Rose

The red rose wept for long
Upon the autumn sad song

And then recovered from grief
And shattered the wet green leaf

The spring is there but the tears
Of lover, the autumn how bears

The little heart in search of charm
Is beating and beating and warm

The red rose is watching the gloom
Of the lover’s heart being in boom

His beloved had nodded him back
The rose from him she does not take

The nature feeling warmth is now cold
The autumn will take him in firm hold

The beauty will go leaving the scars
Of drowning moon and falling stars

The thorns will curse the rose to retreat
The red rose weeps on nature’s treat

It doesn’t matter what have gone
The rose will wait for the dawn

The spring no more helps the friend
His beauty will shatter like wall of sand

His days of life will end very soon
At morn, at noon or after noon

The rose sees autumn in the spring
A wave of sorrow his end will bring

The red rose weeps and weeps more
Upon these tears his eyes will sore

No spring can stop, no joy can amaze
With each passing moment his death he chase

So times are when autumn comes in spring
No joy can touch you no nerve can sing

February 16,2005

poem by Abdul Sattar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Nature's Rose

As the vast nature
blinds the eye by its beauty
the trees grow taller
the grasses grow greener
The animals grow more peaceful in their natural habitat
But none grow as beautiful as the red rose
As the red rose grows day by day
I walk by it desiring to pick it
Sitting and waiting for the petals to grow more mature
To grow and show off the beauty of the rose
Years go by and the rose is almost grown
This special rose is different from the rest.
Others grow, beautify, and die
While this one grows year after year
The blood of the rose is pure
as it flows up and through the beautiful flower
But the rose has not completed its growth
I run my hand down the body of the beautiful flower
Shedding my blood from the sharp thorns
I grasp the flower and thrust it from the ground
As my blood drips, the blood of the flowers does so too
The red of both mix and mature and fall to the ground dropp after drop
The smell of the flower overtakes the pain
This is Nature's Rose

poem by Sky McCoy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Thorn That Grows

The thorn that grows beside the rose
can let its prick be felt.
It also is a sharp reminder
of the pain that can be dealt
to the lover of beauty
that takes no care
to adore the rose
but not beware.

For all the beauty in the world
lies side by side with pain.
And all the glories of what you love
cannot always remain.
I do not languish myself with pity
nor do I live with pride.
But to live in fear of pain that comes
is to believe that beauty has died.

The thorn that grows protects the rose
as love protects the heart.
But if the thorn is missing
might not the rose depart?

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Pain and Sore

What is pain
What is Sore
Let me define the too
They mean when a soul is dead

When there is nothing left
But emptiness
Where is pain
Where is sore

For me pain is everywhere
But for the sore
Thats only in my eyes
Where I cry all the time

How is pain
How is sore
Pain slowly kills a body
Sore is worse then words can explain

Who is pain
And who is sore
Pain is the enemies-thy sisters
As for the sore that would be my heart

When is pain
And when is sore
Pain is when you call
And sore is seeing everyone cry

All these are symbolizing one thing
That thing is whats inside
What hurts and is unbarriable
So thats what, where, how, who, when
Pain and Sore are

poem by Renee Ortiz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Rose is the reflection of yours and his

A Rose os tje reflection of yours an his
I manage what things are expect the
rose that bloom
tears flow down to the tip of your eye
what can we do honesty I wait for that
smooth kiss on my holding the red rose
firmly my love to you is knowing we will
stay together passion of the rose onto yourself

poem by Annamaria Bicego
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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