A Rose Arose
Of all that nature’s garden grows
the fairest flower is the Rose,
bending to each breeze that blows.
Rose beauty, joy, together sows, -
‘Tis true, as everybody knows, -
inadequately penned in prose.
For from her crown all colour flows,
her petals pink or red she shows,
with white or amber, golden glows.
‘Tis said, or so the story goes,
her spiny thorns are elf arrows
to scare the sprites from the meadows.
In slumber see her heart enclose
bee’s happiness, in sweet repose,
unsullied by harsh winter snows.
Both dark and bright, white, virgin shows, -
the rose from Paradise arose,
and on Time's wing she blows, she blows.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Life - 1240 - Initial Version
Life comes and goes as fortune flows
It never knows what cause it sows
For cycle slows or speeds, and those
Effects wind blows truth seldom shows.
Like April snows regrets melt: rose
In May soon glows to blossom grows,
Fling sorrow's bows and arrows, woes
End now, and close Time's book, compose
Lines which oppose all sadness owes
In verse or prose no debt - transpose
Free soul which chose as joy arose.
Expose nor woes nor hope foreclose.
LIfe shadows swallows, overthrows,
FEels rose row grows for soul's repose.
(April 19 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life's Tides 1240 Current Version
Linked ebbs and flows, tides fortune blows,
It never knows what cause it sows
For cycle slows or speeds, and those
Effects winds chose truth seldom shows.
Like April snows regrets melt: rose
In May soon glows to blossom grows.
Fling sorrow's bows and sharp arrows,
Enjoy life 'til Time's pages close
Life which opposes sadness owes
In verse or prose no debt, transpose
Free soul cleansed whole as joy arose.
Expose no woes nor hope foreclose.
Life shadows swallows, overthrows,
Feels garden grows for heart's repose.
(11 January 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Rose Garden
RED roses bright, pink roses and white
That bud and blossom and fall;
The very sight of my heart's delight
Is more than worth them all!
Is worth far more than the whole sweet store
That ever a garden grew--
She plucked the best to die at her breast,
But it laughed and it bloomed anew!
The red rose lay at her lips to-day,
And flushed with the joy thereof;
She said a word that the white rose heard,
And the white rose paled with love.
But the west wind blows, and my lady goes,
And she leaves the world forlorn;
And every rose that the garden grows,
Might just as well be a thorn!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Woman Who Grew Into A Rose
(A Poem For 21st Century Women # 2)
(Prov.31: 10–31 / Prov.18: 22 / Matt.13: 10–15)
A Woman Who Grew
Into A Rose
Remains In GOD’s Garden
… and Grows
Her Heartbeats Blossoms
Opens To Disclose
The Prettiest, Feminine
Petals-Pose
A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Her Fresh–Faith Fragrance
Wafts and Flows …
… into A Knowledge
Of Heaven–Scent
She Offers Her Keen
Spiritual–Sense …
(Prov.31: 26)
… which Intoxicates
A Wise Man’s Nose
with Each Blissful Breeze
… Benevolence Blows
(Prov.31: 11,12,28)
& A Woman Who’s Grown
Into A Rose
Stems To Sister Roses
Leaves of Sacred Prose
(Prov.31: 15)
Yes, There Are Lilies, Orchids
& Magnolia–Blooms
and Such Unique Flora
Has Their Trace–Perfume
… Lavenders, Gardenias
& Honeysuckle Aromas
Are Also Potent Enough
To Revive Fainting Comas
(Prov.31: 29)
But Many Wild Roses
In Many Rows & Rows
Are Limited In Layers
… No Cultivation Shows
For A Rose To Impress
Must Be Pruned & Dressed
& When Beautifully Blessed
Is Like A Flower–Empress! *
(Prov.31: 29,30)
& A Woman Who Grows
Into A Caring Rose
Is More Than An Ornament
With Ribbons & Bows …
_______________________
She Is A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
& Is Ready To Reap
What She Wisely Sows
& A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Can Rest At Peace
In Sweet Repose
A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose …
Away – Away! …
Pain Thorns She Throws
Away – Away! …
Her Fears Are Froze
‘Till GOD Will Crush
All Her Foes …
… A Rose Seed Was Buried
‘Till In Humility
The Rose Would Rise Up
In Grateful Modesty
So A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Was Born To Believe
Resurrections’ Roles
Tho’ Other Flowers
Could Do – She Suppose
None Quite Spread Unfolded
… Like A Rose
… in Trust & Courage
& Edges Exposed
Yet Will Not Wilt
Because of Woes …
& Rivers & Rainstorms
& Mountain Streams
The Roots of The Rose
… Have Drank From These
But Twas’ Crystal Fountains
& One Drop of Christ’s Blood
Gave Deep Wells of Life
To Dark-Red Rosebud …
… The Rose – Arches True
To Shafts of Light
& Rises To Glory
In The Morning’s Might
A Woman Who Grows
Into A Rose
Revels In Soft Grass
Between Trail – Toes …
… while Reaching For Delights
and Bright Rainbows
She Is Ever GOD’s …
Dewy–Eyed Rose
… Yes, It Was GOD
Who Lovingly Chose
A Woman Like Me
As A Landscape-Rose
& A Woman Who Grows
Into A Godly Rose
In Moonlit-Gardens
Mercy–Miracles … Glows
(‘Till Everybody Knows
… She Is A Rose)
That GOD Looks After
… and Grows
Written & ©: 12/21/2011
By: The MoonBee
(A Woman Who Grew Into A Rose)
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Milk White, Blood-Red
Gently as wind blows
Sways the beauty of the Milk White rose
Day and night that rose stays
Its beauty drawing people closer
Its thorns keeping them away
The rose stays here
As seasons pass it by
The petals have worn
As the wind made it fly
A single rose seed
Falls onto the ground
And the Milk White rose
Now dead
Gave birth safe and sound
To a rose of Blood Red
poem by Monina Furigay
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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.
Pink Flowers.
Do not text me or think otherwise
I am just picking flowers from my garden.
Last evening I picked a red rose but
Wow! It proved to be too red for my date
Today I visited the same garden
The only flower I found was a white rose.
Where is my favourite pink rose?
This morning I cycled to the market
Sure, to buy my date a pink rose
But the only roses there were yellow and purple.
Tried to enquire where I could get one
But no one knows where to find.
Went to my flower vendor but nowhere to find
Where will I get my pink rose for my date?
Tomorrow, I'll travel far and wide
Only to get this precious pink flower
And if I succeed, my date will be happy
And my heart will find a solace rest
Amidst the residue of love petals
Just with the pink flower petals.
Where will I get my Pink rose flower?
(Dedicated for my pink flower date)
poem by Aron Lelei
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Couleur de Rose
All things to-day 'Couleur de rose,'
I see,-oh, why?
I know, and my dear love she knows,
Why, oh, why!
On both my eyes her lips she set,
All red and warm and dewy wet,
As she passed by.
The kiss did not my eyelids close,
But like a rosy vapor goes,
Where'er I sit, where'er I lie,
Before my every glance, and shows
All things to-day 'Couleur de rose.'
Would it last thus? Alas, who knows?
Men ask and sigh:
They say it fades, 'Couleur de rose.'
Why, oh, why?
Without swift joy and sweet surprise,
Surely those lips upon my eyes
Could never lie,
Though both our heads were white as snows,
And though the bitterest storm that blows,
Of trouble and adversity,
Had bent us low: all life still shows
To eyes that love 'Couleur de rose.'
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Life In Her Creaking Shoes
Life in her creaking shoes
Goes, and more formal grows,
A round of calls and cues:
Love blows as the wind blows.
Blows! . . . in the quiet close
As in the roaring mart,
By ways no mortal knows
Love blows into the heart.
The stars some cadence use,
Forthright the river flows,
In order fall the dews,
Love blows as the wind blows:
Blows! . . . and what reckoning shows
The courses of his chart?
A spirit that comes and goes,
Love blows into the heart.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
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Buy Me a Rose
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Buy me sweet reasons to be forever close
Tender me with words propose
Wear my heart on your sleeves
for i am the rose you chose
Reveal your gentle pose
Make me your fair lady before chairs and doors
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
And out for a dozen for me he goes
Past mountain high and wild river flows
I must be i suppose
His romantic quest and cause
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Venture deeper into me
make me eternally yours
Share with me the gift my belly grows
suddenly loving me his world not knows
And in to the distance sails as the new wind blows
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Better yet maybe not
a precious one in me grows
poem by Wes Mbanje
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Bridal Eve
GOOD-NIGHT, my Heart, my Heart, good-night--
Oh, good and dear and fair,
With lips of life and eyes of light
And roses in your hair.
To-morrow brings the other crown,
The orange blossoms, Sweet,
And then the rose will be cast down
With lilies at your feet.
But in your soul a garden stands
Where fair the white rose blows--
God, teach my foolish clumsy hands
The way to tend my rose.
That in the white-rose garden still
The lily may bloom fair
God help my heart and soul and will
To keep the lily there.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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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
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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
The December Rose
Here's a rose that blows for Chloe,
Fair as ever a rose in June was,
Now the garden's silent, snowy,
Where the burning summer noon was.
In your garden's summer glory
One poor corner, shelved and shady,
Told no rosy, radiant story,
Grew no rose to grace its lady.
What shuts sun out shuts out snow too;
From his nook your secret lover
Shows what slighted roses grow to
When the rose you chose is over.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Blue Rose!
Genetically modified flower blue rose is unique!
Rose colour gives hope of future by its very look;
Red rose is unique among flowers as it is queen
In the flower world nobody can deny having it!
Yellow rose shines bright in the long green garden
Full of many trees and other flower plants broad!
Pink rose flowers are many everywhere as border
Mainly in the botanical garden of hill stations here!
Blue rose, a new addition in the flower kingdom
Among lavender, blue bells and rare kurinjis of
Light blue, violet and ink blue colours everywhere
Stands majestic and having healing touch to all!
Rose is rose by whatever name it is called and also
Rose is rose by whatever colour it is produced ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Sweet Perfume
A rose arose with rosy hue,
And made my torn heart, so sparkling new,
A rose arose as roses do,
And warmth for its guise within me grew.
A rose arose with beauty bright,
And gladdened my heart with such delight,
A rose arose as roses might,
And set out great charm before my sight.
A rose arose with summertime,
And imbued my heart with songs sublime,
A rose arose as roses climb,
And showed itself in all its prime.
A rose arose inside the room,
And lifted my heart so full of gloom,
A rose arose as roses bloom,
And fused the air with its sweet perfume.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Ocean Rose (An Homograph/Homonym Poem) ...
The Ocean Rose
Scent Of The Sea
Brisk Blue-Green Perfume
Of Serenity
The Ocean Rose
Blossomed Open
Drowned Its Hook-Thorns
To Let Hope In
The Ocean Rose
Within A Vase
Of Exquisite, Exotic
Deep Seabed Base
The Ocean Rose
Sat Like A Prize On
A Jeweled Box
Below A Horizon
The Ocean Rose
To Touch The Sky
Drunk The Tears
That Seagulls Cry
Beyond Our Reach
Below Our Nose
But Before Our Eyes
The Ocean Rose
The Ocean Rose
By Sunset Glows
And Thru Storms and Rains
It Thrives and Grows
So Far Away
Yet Ever Close
It’s Petals Pour
And Stems and Flows
The Ocean Rose
Beneath Rainbows
in Rows After Rows
Its Beauty Shows
Written & ©: 10/5/10
By: The MoonBee
HOMOGRAPHS are words that are spelled the same but have different meanings.
HOMONYMS are words that sound alike but have different meanings.
poem by MoonBee Canady
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A Pink Rose
A Pink rose is for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Where passion and purity,
With love and peace,
Combines and grows,
That brings forth the Pink rose,
Of the Red rose,
And of the White rose,
When both entwine,
Comes the Pink rose,
For all the blushing brides,
When the proposal is asked,
With the Pink rose as a sign,
Is one asking another,
In love and loves first
Red and White,
That all will show,
And carry a wedding bonquet,
Are all the Blushing brides to be,
For the Pink rose if for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Representing passion and purity,
That has love and peace,
Combining and growing,
From two different in color,
One extreme to another,
From the Red and the White,
That combine,
And show true love,
A Pink rose evolves,
Showing true love,
It shows in it's splendor of Pink,
For the blushing bride to be,
So to say,
'I do',
When the question is popped,
On this Valentines Day,
Valentine's Day,
A day of proposal's,
Where it is asked,
From one to another,
'Will you be mine',
From this Valentine's Day,
On to,
The next,
And,
The next,
And,
There after.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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The Black Rose
from a crevice of a rock
a black rose grows
it blooms on dark dreams
its petals are the ones that you do not ordinarily
see in the morning
the sun sometimes pays attention
to its being unusual
not being just any rose in the garden
it gives it more light hoping that someday
it may become white
the black rose is faithful
until it wilted
the dews miss it: the black rose is true
to its nature.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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