En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Promise

I GREW a rose within a garden fair,
And, tending it with more than loving care,
I thought how, with the glory of its bloom,
I should the darkness of my life illume;
And, watching, ever smiled to see the lusty bud
Drink freely in the summer sun to tinct its blood.
My rose began to open, and its hue
Was sweet to me as to it sun and dew;
I watched it taking on its ruddy flame
Until the day of perfect blooming came,
Then hasted I with smiles to find it blushing red —
Too late! Some thoughtless child had plucked my rose and fled!

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

A Rose That Once Stood Alone

A solitary rose grew in the darkest corner of the garden
Surrounded by many others
Yet remained alone

Time passed and trials came and went
One dealt a severe blow
And the rose began to wilt and wither

Forgotten...

Then... as if by a miracle...

There came a soft and gentle breeze
Followed by a ray of light
As all the other roses fell into darkness
The solitary rose began to shine

Shining with a special light...
And watered by a gentle cascade...
A cascade of love
A cascade of selfless affection

'I do... not now but forever...'
Said the rose to the sunlight
And there they remain
A rose in full bloom
With her sunshine smiling down on her...

You are my sunshine, my life, my very soul
And I your rose blooming in the light of your love.

poem by Jocelyn Garcia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Rose That Once Stood Alone

A solitary rose grew in the darkest corner of the garden
Surrounded by many others
Yet remained alone

Time passed and trials came and went
One dealt a severe blow
And the rose began to wilt and wither

Forgotten...

Then... as if by a miracle...

There came a soft and gentle breeze
Followed by a ray of light
As all the other roses fell into darkness
The solitary rose began to shine

Shining with a special light...
And watered by a gentle cascade...
A cascade of love
A cascade of selfless affection

'I do... not now but forever...'
Said the rose to the sunlight
And there they remain
A rose in full bloom
With her sunshine smiling down on her...

You are my sunshine, my life, my very soul
And I your rose blooming in the light of your love

poem by Xena Terrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Rose That Once Stood Alone

A solitary rose grew in the darkest corner of the garden
Surrounded by many others
Yet remained alone

Time passed and trials came and went
One dealt a severe blow
And the rose began to wilt and wither

Forgotten...

Then... as if by a miracle...

There came a soft and gentle breeze
Followed by a ray of light
As all the other roses fell into darkness
The solitary rose began to shine

Shining with a special light...
And watered by a gentle cascade...
A cascade of love
A cascade of selfless affection

'I do... not now but forever...'
Said the rose to the sunlight
And there they remain
A rose in full bloom
With her sunshine smiling down on her...

You are my sunshine, my life, my very soul
And I your rose blooming in the light of your love.

poem by Destiny Tatum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Baby and the Rose

A rose tree grew by the garden wall,
And its highest blossom was just as tall
As my baby's curly head;
A lovely, fragrant, perfect rose,-
But sweeter from head to dimpled toes,
Was the baby I fondly led.

Now summer is over and winter gone,
And the winds of March are whistling on
Where the rose its petals shed;
No trace of rose perfumed and rare,
No baby face as seraph fair,
My baby sweet is dead.

The summer sun will shine again,
And 'neath the pattering, warm June rain,
Again the rose will bloom,
And so beyond these lowering skies
My baby dear, with smiling eyes,
Shall peer through earthly gloom,

And guide me with her angel hand
Through Heaven's gates,-and with me stand
Away from worldly woes,-
Where Heaven's flowers, divinely sweet,
Soften the path for weary feet
With perfume of the rose.

poem by Ida McCormick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

A Girl's Autumn Reverie

We plucked a red rose, you and I
All in the summer weather;
Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom,
Enjoyed by us together.
The rose is dead, the summer fled,
And bleak winds are complaining;
We dwell apart, but in each heart
We find the thorn remaining.

We sipped a sweet wine, you and I,
All in the summer weather.
The beaded draught we lightly quaffed,
And filled the glass together.
Together we watched its rosy glow,
And saw its bubbles glitter;
Apart, alone, we only know
The lees are very bitter.

We walked in sunshine, you and I,
All in the summer weather.
The very night seemed noonday bright.
When we two were together.
I wonder why with our good-by
O'er hill and vale and meadow
There fell such shade, our paths seemed laid
Forevermore in shadow.

We dreamed a sweet dream, you and I,
All in the summer weather,
Where rose and wine and warm sunshine
Were mingled in together.
We dreamed that June was with us yet,
We woke to find December.
We dreamed that we two could forget,
We woke but to remember.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Rose

There was a Rose so warm and bright.
And from it smiles would grow.
It stood out from the other Plants.
It; s beauty was on show.
A Flower with such presence,
That all that came to see.
A Rose within a garden
Blooming happily.

Then one day it's leavs grew weak.
And the brightness seemed to fade.
How could a bud of beuaty,
Grow dull from day to day?
And suddenly the smiles grew weak.
No more stunning petals
No more standing tall.

Then one day the rose grew weak.
And to the ground it fell.
Such a loss to all around
Enchanted by it's spell.
And so a space in the garden
Where once beaty grew.
A space that could never be filled.
By a presence so strong and true

( not written by me but i liked the poem so much it makes me think of my dad)

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Blooms

In my garden a new rose blooms,
velvet red with heady sweet perfume.
The rose bush itself is carefully tended,
fertilized, when best remembered.
Cut back yearly, pruned in March,
so that when at last
the summer sun breaks through in June
the rose, displays a perfect bloom.

A small distance away, along a weathered fence;
a rose left to ramble, reveals its own elegance.
It’s white, pink flowers cluster
in great multitudes along it’s trailing limbs,
clambering and lightly scented
they grow and bloom untended.

poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Rose-Bush

There was a rose-bush in a garden growing,
Its tender leaves unfolding day by day;
The sun looked-on, and his down-going
Left it amid the starlit dusk of nights of May.

The dew-drop came and kissed it in the gloaming;
It gathered sweetness in the morning hours;
The bee beheld it as he went aroaming,
And thought, 'What honey will be hidden in its flowers!'

The light grew richer and the days grew long;
The May-time deepened into June;
The air was laden with the robin's song,
The light wind touched the leaves and set them atune.

And now a tiny bud appeared, and then another--
Bright promises of radiant flowers;
The breezes, whispering, told it to each other,
The rose-bush heard them in the gladsome hours.

New Hope awoke and thrilled in all it veins;
Life is so sweet that culminates in flowers!
It smiled and grew in misty summer rains,
And caught the freshness of the evening showers.

And oft the gardener came and stood beside;
He tended it alway with zealous care,
Watching lest any evil should betide,
Or blight creep o'er the leaves that grew so fair.

He crushed the buds and dropped them on the ground;
The rose-bush felt a chill in every vein;
It drooped, as if to hide each bitter wound--
This strange experience was its earliest thought of pain.

'Poor little plant,' the gardener thought,
Thou art too young, too young to know
That few buds unto flowers are brought,--
It is by pruning thou must grow.'

And still the summer smiled and shoned,
And other roses bloomed and died.
'Mine would more beauteously have blown,'
The little rose-bush sadly sighed.

Again the gardener sought his flowers,
Where he had watched his treasures blow:
The autumn blast has swept the bowers,
The winds and storms has laid them low!

Though sad of heart, the rose-bush still was green;
It lifted up its drooping head;
'The life that would have filled the buds may still be seen,
'Tis folded in its heart,' he said.

He stooped and took it from the ground
All trembling with its vague alarms,
And quick and tenderly he wrapped it round,
And kindly bore it in his arms.

And now where soft the sunshine flows,
Within a fair, immortal bower,
In all its fragrant beauty blooms the rose,
Its every bud grown into perfect flower.

poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Purple Rose Of Cairo

The purple rose of Cairo is in my vase
Blooming away
I am enjoying this rose
The purple rose of Cairo
I know it won’t last long
But that is the perfect gift you gave me
It brightens up my dining room table
Thanks once again for giving me the
Purple rose of Cairo
A rose is so beautiful
It is one of God’s creations
Nobody can make a rose bloom so beautiful than God can

poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

Compensation

I plucked a rose from out a bower fair,
That overhung my garden seat;
And wondered I if, e'er before, bloomed there
A rose so sweet.

Enwrapt in beauty I scarce felt the thorn
That pricked me as I pulled the bud;
Till I beheld the rose that summer morn,
Stained with my blood.

I sang a song that thrilled the evening air
With beauty somewhat kin to love,
And all men know that lyric song so rare
Came from above.

And men rejoice to hear the golden strain;
But no man knew the price I paid,
Nor cared that out of my soul'd deathless pain
The song was made.

poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!