Prima Facie
My black rose,
I like to caress
your soft petals.
savoury pollen
stolen my soul.
like to jump
over the fence.
Oh! the gardener with the spade
is crueller than the prickly shrubs.
I like to hide in the garden secretly
my little haughty
naughty bee request a nod.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
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
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Scarlet Petals
A storm had passed within the night
When wind and rain had lashed the land
Now all was still as sunlight crept
Into the August sky
The scarlet petals lay so still
Beneath the rose from which they fell
And held the fragrant raindrops
On their soft and velvet beds
They sparkled like a diamond's glow
As beams of dawning light shone down
And lit the ravaged garden
Where the rose did stand so bare
For stolen was its beauty
As it bloomed within its zestful prime
And taken without reason
When it had so much to give
poem by Andrew Blakemore
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White Rose
Lonely white rose…
Untended meadows
Deserted garden
Sigh in the wind
Quiet of surrender
Leavened with sorrow
Bees and pollen
Dance together again
Lonely white rose…
Petals pristine
Blooming so proudly
Unseen …yet serene
poem by David Whalen
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Spanish Harlem
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
It is a special one, it's never seen the sun
It only comes out when the moon is on the run And all the stars are gleaming
It's growing in the street right up through the concrete
But soft and sweet and dreamin'
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
With eyes as black as coal that look down in my soul
And starts a fire there and then I lose control I have to beg your pardon
I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden
I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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The Metaphoric Garden...
all the while, literalism
is wished. Why bother with some
allusions? One can be direct
to the point and be
understood point-blank,
no holds bar, black is black
and white is white,
a spade is a spade is a spade,
the cause is that which the cause
is caused,
bluntly, candidly,
what the heck is this
going around the bush
and figuring out
what is hidden through
symbols and
concealed through some
metaphors....
but my dear, this
is the realm of what we want you to know
and on the other hand
we also want you not to know
so well....
and that is, precisely
this thrill, remember those imaginary
toads in the
real garden?
or those real toads in the
imaginary garden,
feel them, they are all here,
hear them, but my god, by god,
you cannot see them
here... not yet....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Single Black Rose
A single Black Rose to turn the tide
A single Black Rose to make one die
A single Black Rose to ensnare the soul
A single Black Rose to widen that hole
A single Black Rose to melt the heart
A single Black Rose to force a start
A single Black Rose to entwine the bodies
A single Black Rose to dictate the deaths of these
A single Black Rose to lie upon her breast
A single Black Rose to stop the tears from soaking his vest
A single Black Rose to mourn this memory
A single Black Rose to become a plot in this cemetery
A single Black Rose to take a life
A single Black Rose to end his strife.
(8/21/2007)
poem by Michael Koelliker
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Less’er Love, And A Rose, In My Garden
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…at times I have lesser love
And in less is more, very much more
…………….and there is this garden
..the garden, ours by the Grace of the Life Force, supreme God
..there is this Rose, and those Roses there… all chose a place to be
I, the Gardner choose the blooms from which Rose goes to the glass next my bed
I love this Rose, and less but similar those other
….they decide when to bloom
In sping late winter their souls weep, as I sheer, as I must
In spring and summer and early winter we rejoice as they bloom abundantly
…..every night one bloom from The Rose that’ad also chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…..only one Rose reads to me… I a lesser Gardener
Lesser, cause I’m only able t’love one Rose…..this Rose here
….those Roses there, some’r lessor Roses, some’r superior Roses, are my friends
Lesser in texture, shape and fiber and fragrance
Some superior in texture, or shape and or fiber and or fragrance
Friends equal in dimension with the Rose, but less in love than the Rose
…..every night one bloom from The Rose, that’s chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I, the gardener…. I prune, sheer…. at times
These other Roses who chose my garden
...so valuable in a muchness o’ Friendship,
…the quality their love much the same as that The Rose
Different the lesser my love, even though my caring equals that towards The Rose
We are blessed, those of us in the garden
…the magnificence of this garden in my life is the sumtotal of you all in my garden
I drink your fragrance intoxicated with love
I love The Rose, and my friends these other Roses in the garden Bless this love
poem by Johan Fourie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Efflorescent Catch
I’m in a garden, amongst the blossoms,
alive with floral scents and insects in flight,
I am one of those delicate rose buds,
so I open my soft petals to the sunlight.
Yet the wild world is harsh,
I am fondled by a pollen seeking bee,
so I shyly fold my petals over my pistil,
to keep at bay the demons from the apiary.
In the breeze I elegantly sway,
brushing my petals with your fingertips,
plucking me from the sea of floribunda,
cupping my corolla, you raise me to your lips.
You take a breath and inhale my floral aroma,
filling your lungs with a sweet desirable smell,
but you don’t cast me back down to the ground,
for I’ve enamoured you with my alluring natural spell.
Taking me home you plant and place me in the soil,
to grow, protect and nurture me in to full bloom,
providing me with all the light and liquid warmth I need,
saying that I give your house a delightful boon.
I am the central piece in your glorious abode,
glamorously displaying me to all those who venture round,
you carefully caress my stem and stroke my leaves,
and affectionately water my roots in the ground.
If I begin to wilt or I prick you with my thorns,
you always provide support to keep me upright,
laughing and smiling as you suck your bloodied thumb,
until I stand phosphorescent from your sunglow every night.
poem by Dale Mullock
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The Disgarded Garden
Their once was a young man who wanted to become a Gardner. There once was a young Rose Tree that wanted a Gardener. They met each other one summer day and began what seemed to be a beautiful relationship. The Gardner was attentive of his garden along with his Rose Tree and the Rose Tree was so happy that its tender branches grew and it bloomed continuously for the Gardner so he’d always be happy.
As time went by the Rose Tree noticed that Gardner wouldn’t tend to her as much as he once did. And when he did he would cut away harshly at the Rose Tree. The Rose Tree being a simple plant who did not need much attention still bloomed for the Gardner. It seemed the more she tried, the more the Gardner would cut away and the tree was now nestled in the ground. Why could this be? He had a bountiful garden that any Gardner would have loved to have. What more could anyone want thought the Rose Tree.
Now in an abandoned garden the Rose Tree grows back its branches, with very thick thorn’s to protect it self. As time goes by one day, out of nowhere appears a Gardener who has silently admired the Rose Tree from outside the garden gates and begins to nurture the Rose Tree in her garden. He tenderly and sympathetically pulls away all the weeds and brush from the Rose Tree so the air, rain & sunshine can reach her again. Allowing her the opportunity to grow back as she once was; vibrant, strong, colorful and to be simply, herself.
This is something the Rose Tree had long forgotten and is very grateful for the loving words of encouragement and kindness that her new Gardner has shown. She longingly awaits for his visits and when the Gardner comes to see her she bloom’s for him and relaxes underneath his beautifully kind smile. My darling Gardner, I am glad fate has brought you to walk along the path leading to the once lost garden and Rose Tree.
poem by Sarah Barron
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Garden of my soul
Garden of my soul
~
In the garden of my soul
sewn into eternity
a love flowers brightly
with the sweetest amore
and you the gardener
the rain and the sun
bring life and beauty
what more could I ask
than to be here forever
with you beside me
in the garden of my soul
poem by Matthew Holloway
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As You See It
To the rose
the garden disappears.
To the garden
the rose withers away.
(If you were the gardener,
what would you say?)
poem by Brian Taylor
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My Daughter Tanya
My Daughter Tanya
In my dreams I saw a gorgeous Pink rose
Heavenly soul wanted me to have it in my garden
I woke up and started thinking of it
Winter came and the weather grew cold
Beautiful single rose grew out of moist soil
Rain water harvested my rose well
It grew straight bloomed in spring
Flourished in summer
Scent was lovely everyone knew
Petals were very soft and shiny
Little rose bud was clad in pink petals
You were sent to me from God,
In the shape of gorgeous pink rose
With the sweetness of all honey bees
As soon as spring revealed itself.
I found Pink rose in my house
Its beauty gave me a sense of power
Its presence gave me the taste of mother hood
I have made it comprehensible
This is you my elder daughter Tanya
I love you dear
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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A Black Single Rose.
A single black rose.
A single black rose to carry the load,
A single black rose to turn the road,
A single black rose to touch the soul,
A single black rose to widen your hole,
A single black rose to melt your heart,
A single black rose to force a start,
A single black rose to make you cry,
A single black rose to make you dry,
A single black rose to help you climb,
A single black rose to make you lie,
A single black rose to take a life,
A single black rose to take away strife.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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A Black Rose
A black rose can stop the beat of ones heart
A black rose bring the scent of death as it tears love apart
A black rose makes nightmares relity
A black rose fills my life with unsertanty
A black rose is forgoten hopes and dream
A black rose is a broken man laying in tears and painful screams
A black rose is the pain of a widowed wife
A black rose is lost love in my hopless life
A black rose is the memorys that haunt my restless soul
A black rose took everthing from me that once made me whole
poem by Glenn McGahan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Black Rose
A black rose can stop the beat of ones heart…
A black rose brings the scent of death as it tears love apart…
A black rose makes nightmares reality…
A black rose fills my life with uncertainty…
A black rose is forgotten hopes and dreams…
A black rose is a broken girl laying in tears and painful screams…
A black rose is the pain of a shattered life…
A black rose is lost love in my hopeless life…
A black rose is the memories that haunt my restless soul…
A black rose took everything from me that once made me whole…
Including…you…
The Garden
Like a Garden we flourish
With colour and life
Each of us different
Each of us bright
The petals of colours
Flutters in the breeze
As we reach for the sky’s
Full of life full of dreams
The sunshine’s down
Upon the garden of life
Spreading its warmth
To give us more life
Making us want nothing
Just being content in the sun
We grow and we spread
Our petals to bloom
Sending out pollen
To cultivate our seeds
As we grow in the warmth
Of our loving god’s embrace
poem by Kaila George
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Spanish Harlem
There is a rose in spanish harlem
A rose that grows in spanish harlem
Its never seen the sun
It only comes up when the moon is on the run
And all the stars are leaving
Well, it grows right in the street
Up between the concrete
But soft and sweet, and (breathing? ? )
There is a rose in spanish harlem
A rose that grows in spanish harlem
Oh, with eyes as black as coal
That reach down in my soul
And start a fire I cant control
I beg your pardon
Well, I want to pick that rose
And watch her as she grows
In my garden
There is a rose in spanish harlem
There is a rose in spanish harlem
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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