Droplets of roses
when the droplet
floats down the
petal of the red rose
it opens an old wound
deep and which never
really has ever healed
a wound red as blood
time has taken
into its hands and
shrouded around
like petals do to the rose
so that when it blooms
it opens the way to
both cheers and pains
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Rose Petal
A Rose Petal
By: Artistic Perspective
September 15,2009
Age 12
A Rose Petal quickly falls off its rose.
I see that it's falling quickly, but in my mind I see it slowly.
What's pleasant about a piece of itself ripping, tearing away?
The only pleasant thought about it, is it will grow a new rose.
I watch the petal fall and plummet.
Until it hits the ground.
Rose petals, Rose petals, are all around.
Why must they fall off?
The rose is now unwhole.
Hopefully, it will come back,
Restore the rose's soul.
poem by Poem hunters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rose Petal
A Rose Petal
By: Artistic Perspective
September 15,2009
Age 12
A Rose Petal quickly falls off its rose.
I see that it's falling quickly, but in my mind I see it slowly.
What's pleasant about a piece of itself ripping, tearing away?
The only pleasant thought about it, is it will grow a new rose.
I watch the petal fall and plummet.
Until it hits the ground.
Rose petals, Rose petals, are all around.
Why must they fall off?
The rose is now unwhole.
Hopefully, it will come back,
Restore the rose's soul.
poem by Artistic Perspective
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wind That Ever Blows
The wind that ever blows,
opens my heart's Rose.
The clouds on the face of Sun,
playing with wind and all over Run.
The chirp of sparrow makes me to feel,
gazing in the sky standing on my heel.
The wind that ever blows,
Opens my heart's Rose.
The Blue color of the Sky gives pleasure to my eyes,
like, wants to take me out from the world of lies.
The rustling of leaves makes me gay,
to stand up and with them play.
The wind that ever blows,
opens my heart's Rose.
This time I just want one,
The ALLAH EXALTED (GOD) and NONE,
and this time except HIM no one my feeling knows,
The Wind that ever Blows,
Opens my heart's Rose....
(SEEMA REHMAN)
poem by Seema Rehman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose Petals
Rose petals are so soft to touch,
rose petalsfragrance is so divine to smell,
rose petals are like lovely lips which smile,
rose petals are given to lady love,
rose petals are spread on bed of newly bride,
rose petals are life of butterflies,
rose petals are used for beauty baths,
rpse petals are offered on the lotus feet of god,
rose petals are placed on grave of dear ones,
rose petals are offered in river ganga for departed soul,
rose petals are showered on newly weds,
rose petals are decorated on festive days,
roses are given as a promise for everlasting love.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Petal of a Rose
A whole forest of them,
Or just a single petal of a rose,
Is enough,
Grasp it in my hand,
Grasp it I shall,
In hurricanes or normal rainy days,
It won't leave my caring palms,
That one petal of a rose,
To remind me of the rose in all her beauty,
But the rose is gone,
In some other forest some place far,
A forest forbidden to me,
There it blooms without me,
Only because of this fool's mistake,
So please do not escape or leave me,
Petal of a rose,
poem by Paurakh Shrestha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red, Red Rose
Red, red rose, she blew her breath
Fingers, it’s stem she caressed
Then she closed her eyes and breathed the fragrance in
Tell me red, red rose, where does love end
She placed the rose, gently against her lips
She plucked a single petal, with finger tips
And as the wind caught and carried up high
Tell me red, red rose, can love it fly
Slowly one by one, each petal fell
Upon the last in her eye, a tear it swelled
And then she sighed as she asked to her self
Tell me red, red rose, is for love, is this what’s left
Red, red rose, red, red rose
You stand for love you should know
Should we hold on tight with all our might
Must one day we let go
Red, red rose, red, red rose
Your petals fly in the breeze
If I let go, red, red rose
What becomes of me.
Copyright 2006 Bill Simmons
aka BillWilliamStar
[email protected]
poem by Bill Simmons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Special Red Rose
My Special Red Rose
My special red rose so full of life just blossoming with
lovely red petals
Always looking so beautiful and radiant in the morning sun
And now yet again another red petal has falling from my
beautiful rose
but the petals that remain are very dear to me because they are still part of my lovely red rose.
Yet today my special red rose doesn't blossom quite as full but I still look at it every day in the morning light
For the lovely red petals that are still on my special
red rose
bring so much joy and happiness to my hearts delight
poem by Joseph Skelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Will Heal This Wound?
With all the carefulness I could muscle
I went for the rose, the red beautiful rose
Ouch! The thorn struck,
The sharp spike-like thorn struck
The heart pierced, spilled the contents
The wound has refused healing
The rose, the red beautiful rose, stares unseemly and unconcernedly
Who will gather the contents?
Who will heal this wound?
poem by Obed Akuma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Rose...
There Is A Rose...
There is a rose that blooms for me
Tucked away so quietly
Hidden for only my eye to see
And holding on to my heart's key
There is a rose that blooms for me
There is a rose that blooms for you
Just beyond your loving view
Waiting to be born anew
Waking to your heart's cue
There is a rose that blooms for you
13 Jan 2008
400 ~ Bloom
Just begins to bud,
a rose,
holding hopes and fears
behind
black-red, velvet-soft petals.
Startled by a bright, new world,
it opens,
revealing petals of humility.
Blushing, growing,
opening as it becomes
accustomed
to beauty in light.
Proud color spreads wide across,
full bloom,
not as dark as at first,
glowing
from light that has filled it.
This rose can never die.
As love,
It can lose color, wilt, fade,
but in the mind,
the rose
will forever be in bright, full bloom.
This rose stands a symbol,
to time.
What has occurred to arrive at
now?
All the bloomings have led to one bright bloom,
this rose.
As someone has made me bloom,
she is
beauty and
light. Changing
my colors, releasing
my fears,
I owe her much, love
will never die, like
the glowing bloom of this,
a rose.
poem by Stan Pelfrey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Wound
a wound will always
be a wound.
a scar may come
to say you are healed
but soon it will
remember the wound.
perhaps you have not
loved enough
to learn from those
whose hearts
are broken, they
say: forgive and forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose Within: (Improvisation 03 12 2005)
Rose of resentment within
my hour of flower
in the Lord’s rest to make good
energy of love my winter’s sleep
the petal buds to rose within
my soul with which to keep
like candle lights my face
behind the eyes
not the solitary me
but my rose and I encountered there
indulge them both to speak
the rose resents the hour of flower
the energy of love in that winter’s sleep
I see hidden by the rose lines your face
behind your eye reddened in self respect
nearby the thicket beauty opens out
its energy there before me in greenhouses
knows no hatred source
stands with me to bid farewell
at temple doors I let my spirit sprout
we hunger not for walls but for the rose
within the rose of resentment
my hour of flower.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Masochist Culture....
this incurable fanatic is condemned
every morning it opens the pages of its own realities
as though it is opening a wound
and lets the blood ooze
it finds joy in this kind
opening those which have healed and had been closed
for years now
this is the culture of masochism
manipulating the past giving it is unnecessary presence
perhaps
because there is nothing to see at all
nothing to do
perhaps to lessen the absurdity of what is here
there is nothing to touch
except these pages of
pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song For a Storyteller
There is a rose in the middle of the haw,
speaking softly of a struggle all around
across a river of leaves, among the trees;
she recalls an address of so many years ago
almost a man of straw amid a fire
when wind blows to ruffle her petals,
but, she has something besides the body,
it is an iron breath which cannot be summarized
in this wordy wound, cannot be a metaphor
for something else: it’s enough in herself.
And you can shed another petal on the floor
but it’s useless, another useless action told.
Choose a body, a name, a place
for your story, for each man’s work,
to wonder together the unfailing choices
of the others. A river-tale is dead now;
begin another one more happy, more
cheerful, with more than a rose.
poem by Francesco Giusti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friends Never Say Goodbye
Friends never say
goodbye...
But you and me
will never be the
same again.
Our friendship is
like a dying rose...
Every petal falls
off.
Every single rose petal
means something....
What you did to our
friendship is that
rose petal.
I’m sorry....but that
rose...is never going
to grow back....
And neither is our
friendship.
poem by Lisa Parks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rose Is, But A Rose
A Rose Is, But A Rose by Kenny Davis
A rose is, but a rose
Its illustrious petals has me drawn to her
With every one that blooms and blossoms I yearn for her
For with every one that drops and withers away I mourn for her
A rose is, but a rose
Holds such beauty like that of the Garden of Eden
Thanking god for the gift of this rose, I find myself pleading
Hoping that the beauty found in this rose is not misleading
A rose is, but a rose
With its true essence hidden under its thorns
Cherishing, treasuring, and loving it beyond its pain and scorn
Hoping that through all the love I show for her, that its spirit is reborn
A rose is, but a rose
Through the storms, finds the strength to continue to bloom
Where most would have been doomed to allow life’s rage to be consumed
Through my admiration of her creation send a sensation to have her faith in love renewed
A rose is, but a rose
Though there are many, none like her
Much like the fiery red of her petals, my love for her continues to burn
Blessing me with privilege caring for her, she allows me to shower my love for her in return
A rose is, but a rose
Gardening every inch of her nature overwhelmingly fills this void inside
I gained an everlasting love for life, when my world with hers collided
Much like a rose without water, without my rose, I would wither and die
© May 2011 k.davis
poem by Kenneth Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tight Lipped
tight lipped
a bud
opens
a little mouth
a petal
and sighs
then
you smell
the scent
of a rose
a woman
and comes
a man
the wind
swallowing
a petal
a woman
in his arms
away
to the dark
night
like
a horse
you hear
sounds
of hoofs
and
yes
i hear
it too
the moans
the moon
and
the shadows
of the bud
in full
bloom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Petals of a Red Rose
A Red rose is a harmonious flower,
Symbolising love, passion and devotion.
As many numbered red roses are,
There only needs to be one to say it all.
When you hand someone a red rose,
You tell them that you love them.
A red rose cannot be itself,
What truely makes them so important,
Is not the colour or the number of them,
But the petals itself.
The petals hold everything in place,
Encouraging the flower to be more graceful,
Giving hope and love,
To what we would normally think is plain.
A red rose is such an intricate design,
Just like us, your daughters,
We are your red rose,
We are capable of living on our own,
But like a red rose we need that one special bit,
To encourage us, believe in us and love us,
Which is why we say,
You are the petals of the red rose.
poem by Music Galore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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