Of The Rose Bush
This homely bush doth to mine eyes expose
A very fair, yea, comely ruddy rose.
This rose doth also bow its head to me,
Saying, Come, pluck me, I thy rose will be;
Yet offer I to gather rose or bud,
Ten to one but the bush will have my blood.
This looks like a trapan,[34] or a decoy,
To offer, and yet snap, who would enjoy;
Yea, the more eager on't, the more in danger,
Be he the master of it, or a stranger.
Bush, why dost bear a rose if none must have it.
Who dost expose it, yet claw those that crave it?
Art become freakish? dost the wanton play,
Or doth thy testy humour tend its way?
Comparison.
This rose God's Son is, with his ruddy looks.
But what's the bush, whose pricks, like tenter-hooks,
Do scratch and claw the finest lady's hands,
Or rend her clothes, if she too near it stands?
This bush an emblem is of Adam's race,
Of which Christ came, when he his Father's grace
Commended to us in his crimson blood,
While he in sinners' stead and nature stood.
Thus Adam's race did bear this dainty rose,
And doth the same to Adam's race expose;
But those of Adam's race which at it catch,
Adam's race will them prick, and claw, and scratch.
poem by John Bunyan
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Related quotes
Red Rose Destitute Prostitute
Rose has the reddest hair I've seen...
Rose is a prostitute of high repute....
Rose smiles and all your thorns fall off
along with your shoes..............................
Rose and I get along real swell not like
you think....
Rose lives on the streets as well...being as
she is actually she has as many as tree
or four homes a day.
Rose did not show up for her doctors appointment.....
Rose was found in an empty lot with her bush
lopped off.
Rose was destitute when found she was sent off on
what we call the gravy train to every where
rose was cremated under tarp then bailed out.
poem by Cigar Aficionado
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Just a rose.
I'm a rose, but a damaged rose. The winds have torn my peddles and my color has faded. I've broken my stem through these uncontrolable storms, But a rose that has been picked and fiddled with. A rose who has learned to grow it's thorns, but a rose without it's bush.A rose that still has yet to say 'I've survived' this grassless dirt spreaded field.I'm a rose, just a damaged faded rose.
poem by Ashley Derenda
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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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A Dying Rose
A Dying Rose
By: Adam M. Snow
Helplessly I wait upon the hour, drawing closely;
I, myself ponder tremendously.
Do my eyes deceive what once was a rose?
And by that, does it be a rose no longer?
I speak to be heard once more,
and once more to be heard by that rose.
But I cannot see that of the beauty of her face,
yet her eyes glances swiftly beyond my essence.
Could it be? Oh could it be,
that my essence is enough to guide thee?
I am but one in groups of many,
she sees not I but one in twenty.
She is that of a dying rose,
shedding that of blackened petals;
a black rose, I say so myself.
Doomed by what the world gave to thee;
a single tear drop, which falls and taints the ground.
And by that passing hour; she, herself would wilt away.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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The Rosebush
There was a rosebush
With only one rose
And I fell in love
With just that rose
I couldn’t grab it for fear
Of the many thorns
But I had to get it
‘Cause I loved that one rose
So I took a chance
Took a jump
But the rose was too
Far out of my reach
As I sat in the bush
I started to bleed
And I bled and bled
And sat there in pain
Then came a friend
Who held out her hand
She helped me up
And got me through
I tried again and again
Yet she kept helping me
Get out of the rosebush
And then I gave up
I… shouldn’t have
But I gave up on myself
And I told my friend,
“I can’t get the rose.”
For weeks upon weeks
I avoided the rosebush
Until she said to try
One last time
So I did and
Excitedly received
The only rose
That grew upon that bush
I then gave it to the girl
Who stood by my side
Day in and day out
Who told me not to give up.
poem by Chris Pacion
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Rose Bush's Life
have you ever seen a rose bush
grow over a period of time
well it gets bigger and
a lot more complected,
as it grows and expands
it starts as a seed
and with the right care and time
it develops into a bush
but with the wrong amount the bush is not heathy
and may die
that’s the same with a baby
we start as a egg in our mothers tummy
with the right amount of care and 9mounts
we sprout into the world
young, healthy and a able body baby
but if we are not taken care of properly then
we may not live
a rose bush sprouts many different roses
during it’s life time
as if they are sections of there life
generations
of there life time
our lives look and act
like a rose bush
also it starts with one seed
you
then we sprout up and
make our own lives
with a family and
that spouts other things off of us
husband, wife, kids, and grand kids
our lives are like a
rose bushes life
for a rose bushes
are our lives
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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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
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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
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Black Rose
Black Rose
By: Adam M. Snow
My dreams are broken;
these words are forever unspoken.
I know not who I am;
I know I am a rose without a stem;
a black rose that bleeds red;
my heart is full of dread.
I try to go beyond this reality;
to a place they call fantasy;
to try and find myself;
by looking for a heart shaped box left upon a shelf;
for I am a black rose that bleeds red;
it seems I am better off dead.
I am a lonely lost ghost;
nevermore will I be your host.
These wounds are but a memory of my affection;
if only you could see my broken reflection.
You caused my hands to be tainted with your blood;
now I have been swept away by this tormented flood.
You left me in solitude;
all alone, cold, and nude.
I know not what to do;
all I wanted was to be with you;
yet you spoke of broken truth;
for you have showed you're uncouth.
I have withered away;
I am no longer here to stay.
I am a black rose;
tormented by my woes.
It's just like I said;
I'm only human, I bleed red.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Just One Rose...
that's a homework i need you to tell me if i should hand it to the teacher or not...(:
just one rose, a pretty rose...
just one rose for me with no coze...
just one rose pure and true...
just one rose for me is all i can do...
just one rose somewhere out there...
just one rose for me to care...
just one rose when dark days prevail...
just one rose when people only use petrail...
just one rose and all the time...
just one rosefor me is a crime...
poem by rose of death XxX
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What A Rose Can Say
A rose can say I love you and want you to be mine,
A rose can say I thank you for being so very kind,
A rose can say congratulations, whatever the occasion may be,
A rose can say I miss you and wish you were here with me,
A rose can say I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way,
A rose can say get well soon, May God bless you today,
A rose can say I wish you happiness, and the best for you each day.
A rose can say farewel when someone goes away,
A rose can say hello, I'm thinking of you today,
There's just so many wonderful things that a rose can say,
A rose can say goodbye when a love one is laid to rest,
No matter what there is to say, a rose can say it best.
poem by Margie Driver
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Everyman’s Rose
Everyman has a rose
on a thorny bush,
a rose whose prickles
keeps us alive.
We are tempted
but we cannot touch
this rose that eludes
our heart so much.
1 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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One Rose
Rose
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each bruise
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you cheated
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you forced me
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each pointless arguement
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each crime
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you try to end me
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
How many more can I live through?
poem by Lexie Night
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I Found A Rose
I found a rose
between a rose bud
and a dieing rose
neither pick nor pulled
grown from the seed and into the vines
one day the rose will die as though as the other
the bud will die as though as the others
but i plucked the dieing rose to put it out of its misserary
i plucked the rose bud to put it out of its misserary
and i left the rose for its process has begun
and at that moment i stood between an old man
and i child
and there was I as the old man fainted upon the grown
and yes there i was as the child bled from its nose
the color of the rose.
and there i was not a scratch but still hurt.
poem by Martel Alexis
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When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Rose’s rose rose
Rose’s rose rose
In the light of the day
While the wind blows
Round its flowers of the lightest rosé.
Rose’s rose rose
In a way Rose may
When she grows
As her rose
Shows
How it grows
And by the end of the day
When her rose’s flowers’d close
And its head would sway
In the wind, Rose would say:
“My rose, as you rose
In the light of the day
Did you notice those,
The sounds of your stay?
Not only those of the day,
But, too, the ones of the dark, rose,
The ones of the dark and the moon in its pose.
Did you notice those, rose?
Did you notice those? ”
And the rose would know
What Rose would want to say
And it would sleep
With its flowers of the lightest rosé.
A Rose Intoxication!
Queen of flowers rose is always a fascination!
Rose is symbol of passionate love cheers mood!
Rose lady gives great pride to be with anywhere!
Special respect to rose never changes anywhere;
Red rose, pink rose and even blue rose are there
Occupying a pride of place none can have ever!
Bouquet of rose flowers elates anyone to dizziness!
A special gift indeed rose flowers makes to all!
A single rose is enough to make one grand to look
Instead of a big cluster of flowers of jasmine or lily!
Scent of rose remains fresh in mind wherever one is;
Such a unique flower rose how can anyone ignore
Whether it is in the garden or lies on a wayward side!
Now after seeing rose and read on rose I am intoxicated..!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Fair Rose
Fair rose, fair rose, so sweet and soft,
Just as the skin of a new born babe,
Thy beauty grows as day goes by,
The danger wakes in thy razor thorns.
How, oh how can a creature so beauteous,
Hold such dire treacherousness?
Thou hast drawn me in so close,
Just outside thy painful touch,
When desire outgrows sense,
And thy thorn doth bring red stain.
Fair rose, fair rose, so sweet and soft,
How can thy beauty hold such great pain?
poem by Joseph Cross
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A Dozen Roses
A dozen roses I give to you my friend
A gift that seems so small
But they represent so much
Our friendship most of all.
A rose for the friendship
A rose for the touch
A rose for the trust we share
Our sharing means so much.
A rose for the kindness
And the deep caring you show
A rose for the comfort given
When I've been feeling low.
A rose for the laughter
How it makes your eyes shine
A rose for the dreams we share
It's amazing how they intertwine.
A rose for the deep respect
You give to me with ease
A rose for the love we feel
And how you wish to please.
A rose for your compassion
That has helped me in so many ways
A rose for bringing me sunshine
That has brightened all my days.
The last rose is the best
For it stands so proud and tall
This rose represents you
My best friend of all.
poem by Joyce Regna
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Still A Rose
A rose is a rose every day, every night
You too are the same, except different in my sight
You are like a rose, such a beautiful creation
But a rose in disguise, meant to blume for every nation
So show your beauty, for I know what you are
You are a rose in disguise, and very, very wise
A rose is a rose is a rose.....
poem by Pearl Adaeze Okafor
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