En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Do I Look Like A Rose?

Do I...
Look like a rose?
A mixed hybrid,
That pricks when picked...
If not carefully held,
In an anxious hold.

Do I.
Do I...
Look as if my beauty exists,
For a quick lift...
For you to run off with!

Do I...
Look as if,
I have something to give...
With an offering found,
To be irresistible?

Do I.
Do I...
Look as if my beauty exists,
For a quick lift...
For you to run off with!

Do I...
Look like a rose?
A mixed hybrid,
That pricks when picked...
If not carefully held,
In an anxious hold.
To sit and wither to watch...
As we both grow old?

Do I, do I...
Look as If I'm that kind,
Of rose to behold?
I could be.

But if overnight,
You decide not to treat me right...
I can also bite!
With a stinging done,
You will never forget.

With a pricking you will wish,
You had never chose to pick!
With a scent that will not soon leave,
Your swollen nose.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose, Fall

Rose of many petals that fall at gentle touch,
you cannot match up to my love-who with touch does not fall
Rose of the green stem, who withers when is dry
you cannot match up to my love, who with age, never dries
Rose of thorny flaws, who pricks me at the lips
you cannot match up to my love, whos lips contain no thorns
Rose like any other rose, who with them does not stand out,
you cannot match up to my love, whose beauty stands outloud
Rose of limited colors, who can only bloom one tone
you cannot match up to my love, who blooms of every hue
Rose, who only appeals to eyes, to those who see its beauty
you cannot match up to my love, who appeals to every sense
Rose fall down, and bow to my love-she is the one with grace
Rose wither away to my love, whose beauty outlives yours
Rose turn 'way, when in presence to my love-
for she holds something you dont hold
and that is my steep love

poem by Afrodita Alkline
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To See A Rose

To see a rose,
first you have to look at its thorns,
so that you can't feel happinness,
if you haven't experienced sadness.

To see a rose,
you have to take her carefully,
you have to love her beauty,
and be aware of her danger.

To see a rose,
you have to be humble,
not envy her beauty,
nor destroy her perfecion.

To see a rose,
you have to be realistic,
to know there's no such beautiful thing in the world,
as the delicate perfection and beauty of a rose.

January 8,2009

poem by Ana Lia Zaldivar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pondering upon the Rose on a Sunday Morning......

The symbol of love
When giving in love a rose speaks for itself
The beauty is picturesque
The scent it gives lasting for ever

The rose never seen without her thorns
Still who can not feel happiness when a rose is seen or given?
Even for a brief minute, a second the rose brings a smile
Or perhaps a small sigh of delight

If one were to think upon a rose…
The thorns… the beauty…
The petals that carry the essence…
That lingers even after it is withered

If one were compare to our Lord…
He held thorns upon his precious head; the head of the rose is above the thorns
His love was known for its beauty and compassion, the rose noted for love
His words and Spirit lingers for eternity much like the scent of the rose

My Lord created the Rose
Perhaps he created it for remembrance of His son
Looking upon the rose I see it all so clearly
The meaning of love
The beauty
An essence that shall always be with me

poem by Patricia Gale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Perfect Rose

A Perfect Rose

So deep and pure, the one I chose
From this earthly garden. a perfect rose,
Fragile, yet it only bends,
In times of rain are days of winds.

Close to my heart, this rose I hold,
Its' beauty to me like solid gold,
A perfect rose that means so much,
That I am thrilled by a single touch.

A perfect rose it has been said,
Is the symbol of love, a long stem red,
No others can or will compete
For my perfect rose so soft and sweet.

My love for the rose, a beauty still,
Has not faded and never will,
This rose I hold, the one I chose,
My loving wife, a perfect rose.

Richard Netherland Cook

poem by Richard Netherland Cook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick Me Up

There are too many roses down on the ground
There are too many people throwing them around
Every rose has a value unbound
So would you please pick them up from the ground?

There are too many people staring at the moon
And many forget when the roses will bloom
And when they do they'll be treated so rude
And they're sweet smell turns to no value

A rose is a wonderful thing to hold
It has a scent so sweet to the nose
It's filled with love and kindness so deep
But we don't appreciate a thing so sweet
Until it's gone and we're left all alone
Searching for one but they're already gone

It's like when too many people start cursing the rain
Waiting by the window and begging in vain
That the rain should come another day
While the rose savors the rain
Knowing that soon it will go away
But never knowing when it will come again

I said it before and I'll say it again
There are too many roses being thrown away
Broken in spirit and wasting away
But I see a few being treated as they deserve
Smelt with well closed eyes to savor it well

Appreciate a well colored rose
It has a scent so sweet to the nose

You'll never know when the rain comes no more
You never know when the roses won't grow
So throw them away and treat them so cold
You'll never find them when you need them the most.

poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose

In my hand I held the rose
As I would a woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the touch, sight and beauty that I knew,
When the kiss of beauty, once had blew.

I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
And then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became the body and the petals became the skin,
Then I held her lightly, within the wind.

The rose held me, as I had held her
The two of us had become one
Then the act of God had prevailed that day
For he commanded the wind to take the rose away.
And towards the heavens She had flew,
As though to join the love that I once had knew.

In my hand there laid a thorn
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth, I then laid the thorn
So love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream,
Knowing never again, will it be seen.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Red Rose for You

I wish a rose can last forever.
I wish the pedals never fall,
The chance of becoming true? Never.
This rose will have you know it all.

The red rose I have for you
Is as pure as my love for you.
It will let you know that my
Love for you is true.

Hopefully this rose,
Will give you warmth in your heart.
If you feel the warmth,
That's the feeling that we will never be apart.

This red rose I have for you
Will show you the beauty I see.
Everytime I see you,
You are the beauty to me.

This rose will show you
The smile that brightens up my day.
This rose will show you on every pedal,
The words I love you in every way.

This red rose for you
Might show you I'm shy.
But I know for a fact,
That it will show that for you, I'll light up the sky.

This red rose for you,
Will let you know,
That for you,
Any where I'll go.

In this letter it will show you,
That every word is meant.
My words are so faithful,
As the beauty of a red rose you won't forget.

This is my Rose to you.

(December 6,2008)

poem by Joey Rodriguez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Picked the Right Day for Torture

You picked the right day for torture.
It was too quiet and serene,
To be left untampered.
You wanted your presence felt...
And it was.

You picked the right day for torture
With or without a diet regimen
Or implementation of facts.
What you do behind one's back...
Is left to your interpretation.
Your rules and dispositions are taught!
Although not followed,
And neither held in high esteem.

You picked the right day for torture...
Perhaps now you can see in bright daylight,
The victims you continue to abuse
Are of your own kind.
And of them none can say you frighten.
Yet all have been too quick to say you are crazed!
And today you are here believing you will be praised,
And honored?
You picked the right day for torture!
And how much of it you take...
Will not leave a witness to feel remorse,
Or show heartbreak!

They have come to watch you exploit,
Your own pain!
You have picked the right day for torture!
Everyone came to give you the limelight,
And the fame you claim!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman Dear

In my hand I held the rose
As I would a Woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the beauty that I had knew
When the kiss of beauty, once did flew.

I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
Then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became a body and the petals became her skin.
Then I held her softly, within the wind.

The rose held me as I held her
The two of us had became one,
Then the act of GOD prevailed that day,
For he commanded the wind to take her away.
Then towards the heavens I saw her flew.
As though to join the love that I once had knew.

In my hand there laid a thorn,
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth I then laid the thorn
So the love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream.
Knowing never again, will it be seen.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Bought You A Rose

the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night
it keeps me awake
through the night
the night in which
i think of you
because
i hold the rose
in my hand
through the night
the rose that i bought you
in the afternoon
the rose that you did not want
in the evening
the evening when i took you out
and you said
you did not want the rose
you wanted it to be over between us
you said it was no use
a rose was no use
a rose could not
bring us together
a rose could not
keep us together
a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
you said
i should keep my rose
you said
you said it when i offered you the rose
you said it again
when the evening was over
when we left each other
and so i took it home
the rose that i bought you
i thought of you
on my way home
with the rose
i thought of how it had been
between us
i thought of how it might have been
between us
i tried to forget
how it had been
between us
i tried to forget
how it might have been
between us
but the rose reminded me
how it was
between us
i took the rose with me
when i got into bed
when i tried to sleep
it had been deep red
but it seemed to me
now it was not so deep red
as it had been before
each time i woke
i looked at the rose
each time it seemed
not so deep red
as it had been before
each time it seemed
a little more faded
a little more dry
a little less red
a little less fresh
each time
its scent also
had been beautiful
like you were beautiful
its scent also seemed to me
a little more faded
a little less fresh
a little less beautiful
a little less able
to evoke you
a little less able
to keep you
to keep your memory
alive
alive in the night
even when i turned on the light
to look again
at the rose
to inhale again
the perfume of the rose
i saw it fading
i saw you fading
i saw your beauty fading
through the night
and i saw that you were right
about the rose
that a rose is just a rose
that a rose could not
bring us together
that a rose could not
keep us together
that a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
that you by any other name
are still just a rose
fading through the night
i cannot keep you
for i cannot keep you
from fading through the night
like this rose i bought you
like any rose
like anything i ever bought you

the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night

poem by Rory Hudson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose An Inspiration

Rose, the sign of love
Beauty is picturesque
Speaks for itself
An inspiration

Rose, scent is everlasting
Always fresh upon the eyes
Keeping a pose of pure divine
Beauty evokes
An inspiration

Rose, pedals are smooth
With a bounty of great beauty
Shows affectionate feelings
Has a unique power
An inspiration

Rose, sways slowly in a breeze
Perfuming a scent all its own
So, sweet and light
An inspiration

Rose, in full bloom, it is radiant
As it whispers of passion
Breathes of love
An inspiration

Rose, each thorn has a reminder
Rose, is fragile and delicate
Love can hurt
An inspiration

Rose, a token of great love
An inspiration

poem by Elizabeth Grant Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose For A Rose

A rose for a rose
That is all that I can say,
As I present, the flower to you.
You can look upon its beauty
As I have looked upon yours,
Now you know the turmoil I go through.
As the beauty of the rose,
I thought it second to none,
Until that day that we met.
Now to me the rose is just a flower,
And its aroma is but a scent,
And raindrops, are tears I have wept.

A rose for a rose,
A masterpiece for the painter,
That is what, I am giving you.
You may gaze upon this flower
You can close your eyes and wish
And now the rose is wishing upon you.
Your skin is that of silk
Your beauty is that of mine eyes,
And your soul is that of the free wind.
So now I present you the rose,
As a man presents GOD his soul,
And know you’ll know where I have been.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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In the spirit of Rumi - 5

Yesterday, my dearest one,
you who are so dear to Me,
you walked so slowly through the public park
carrying your sorrow with you

and as you walked, you cast a glance
at that red rose whose scent waylaid you on your path,
wondering if its beauty
might somehow lift your sorrow from you.

Walk in the park again today,
you who are so dear to Me,
I shall be waiting in the rose,
waiting in the rose’s beauty

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Plucked A Rose From A Garden Green......

By Murtaza Abt

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
Of beauty never felt or seen,
Hoping that it would never wilt,
And always be as always been.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
with a happy blissful heart,
And promised i would hold it tight,
And never would we part.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
But little did i know,
That not in endless love and care,
But gardens do they grow.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And took it home with me,
But little did it stay the way,
The way t'was meant to be.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to grieve,
Over gardens green and meadows lush,
As it was sad to leave.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to wilt,
And wither in that unknown land,
it filled my heart with guilt.

I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to die,
For happiness i had only asked,
But i began to cry.

....................................

I have p L ucked y O u from a garden green,
Your beauty i VE never felt or seen,
Hoping that YOU will never wilt,
And always be as always been.

09/Nov/09

poem by Murtaza Abt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wayward Rose

Mischievous rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Can I not bind thee nor hold thee?
Can I not weave thee nor fold thee
In with thy sisters to staying?
Vain is my passion or praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.
Wayward sweet rose from the rose-tree swinging,
Can I not pass thee, forget thee?
Can I not see to regret thee?
In—'mid thy kindred's close ringing,
Out—to my heart she comes winging,
Rose from the rose-tree swinging.
Cruel red rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Ever to worship thee, throne thee,
Never to lose thee or own thee,
Thy beauty to keep me from straying,
Thy thorns for my passionate praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You cannot own or disown

Life is not a bed of rose,
Nor a bed of thorn either.
Both mixed, it’s of no use.
Can you own and disown life?
When it pricks is your chance.
02.08.2008

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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