That Garde Of Stones....
on Wednesday afternoon
your visitors from different orientations arrived
all were well composed,
calm and at first very silent,
still feeling what is new
but not yet reacting,
you served coffee, others of course
from the East preferred tea
when all were feeling that sense of
home
you invited all of them from that room
towards another door
which exited to a garden which they in truth
did not expect
a garden of sand and stones and
then you make them all know
why they are all here and
when are they going to leave
what they have to see shall only for the moment
not lasting more than
the blinking of an eye
you can see the disappointment in their faces
all they imagine really are roses
red red roses
and without thorns....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter Sunset
Roses in the sky,
Roses in the sea
Bowers of scarlet sky-roses
Take my heart and me.
God was good to make,
This December weather,
All this sky a rose-garden,
Rose and fire together.
To the East are burning
Roses in a garden,
Roses in a rosy field,
Hesper for their warden.
Yonder to the West
Roses all afire,
Mirror now some rare splendid
Rose of their desire.
Pulsing deeper, deeper,
Waves of fire throb on,
Never were such red roses
At sunset or dawn.
Roses on the hills,
Roses in the hollow,
Roses on the wet hedges,
In the shining fallow.
West wind, blow and blow!
That has blown ajar
Gates of God's great rose-garden,
Where His Angels are,
Gathering up the rose-leaves
For a shower of roses
On the night the Lord Babe
His sweet eye uncloses.
All the sky is scarlet
Flaming on the azure.
O, there's fire in Heaven
My heart aches with pleasure.
Leagues of rose and scarlet,
Roses red as blood:
All the world's a rose-garden.
God is good, is good.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Garden Of Roses
My garden of roses is dead
All the most beautiful flowers have wilted
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Like my love and my nurturing was nothing
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Nothing but dust in the wind is left
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Everything's gone and I feel so empty
And now the winter is here
poem by Triin Kann
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A Rose Amidst the thorns
Roses in profusion
bloomed along our garden wall.
They were both red and yellow-
tea hybrids, I recall.
There were thorns too,
as I well knew,
standing guard among the blooms.
A careless creature soon would learn
to give the rose wide berth
An agony of thorns awaits
the careless of the earth.
Yet thorns permit the bees to come
and pollen to transpose.
and, if careful, they'll admit
my own scent seeking nose
I think thorns serve their purpose well
else roses would be trampled
The thorns are roses' guardians
and not inconsequential.
Without a thorn, the rose, forlorn,
is destined for the ashes.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Venus in the Garden
'Twas at early morning,
The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,
When in a sweet, embowered garden
She, the fairest of the goddesses,
The lovely Venus,
Roamed amongst the roses white and red.
She sought for flowers
To make a garland
For her golden head.
Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,
In that sweet garden close,
Offered incense to the goddess:
Both the white and the crimson rose.
White roses, red roses, blossoming:
But the fair Venus knew
The crimson roses had gained their hue
From the hearts that for love had bled;
And the goddess made a garland
Gathered from the roses red.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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A Garden
If I saw you in a garden
amongst the roses there,
I would not see the roses
for they'd be too hard to bear.
Their petals not as soft as your eyes,
their thorns not as sharp as your wit,
their stems not as strong as my love
and I'd care not for any of it.
My intent in the garden
would be to inhale the aroma sweet
and have you let my senses quicken
and inflame me with the heat
of passion while we lingered
and pretended to see a rose
while every second all we'd know
is the beauty of how love grows.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Red Roses
(jimbeau hinson, david murphy)
Red roses just won't work now
Here we go us again
You've been gone and here you stand
With a dozen i'm sorry's in your hand
Victim of your podent charms
I took you back with open arms
But along with the roses came the thorns
Chorus:
And that's why red roses just won't work now
Cause you've done too much
To talk things out
You could tell me you love me
But that's the one thing i'll always doubt
Red roses just won't work now
Gone for good's the trust i had
You let me done the garden path
Just too many times to take you back
So faith is why don't you
Save the roses for you know who
I already know how long they'll last
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daisies Pushing Up Roses
“I’m pushing up daisies, but I wish they were roses.”
I am a doormat, and everyone knows it.
The pain I’ve felt through the years.
The pain I’ve dealt with has caused me fear.
How could someone hurt someone else on purpose?
Then leave them aside feeling worthless.
They leave lasting scares on your heart.
The words that hurt make you feel like your falling apart.
You’re taking life away from an innocent child.
What did you do grow up in the wild?
All the words, all the pain, make me want to walk in the rain.
The tears I’ve cried.
The times I wished that I had died are all now going to be put aside.
I’m pushing up daisies, but that’s okay.
The sun will come up soon.
There will be a new day.
Roses have thorns that may prick you, and its pretty appearance could trick you.
So be a daisy, flow in the breeze.
So I’ll go through life being the only me.
poem by RosaLee Marybeth
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Rooftop Garden
Sitting in our rooftop garden
Looking down below
Sitting in our rooftop garden
Waiting for the sun
Isnt it lovely watching
A plane go by
What a lovely couple
Are you and i
Sitting in our rooftop garden
A few drops of rain
The lights in the city blinking on
Just the same
No sugar in my coffee
Hows your tea
In our rooftop garden
Above the city
Lets not see any letters
Lets not answer the phone
Lets just pretend that
Theres no one at home
In our rooftop garden
In our rooftop garden
In our rooftop garden
Up on the roof
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Enchanted Garden
OH, what a garden it was, living gold, living green,
Full of enchantments like spices embalming the air,
There, where you fled and I followed--you ever unseen,
Yet each glad pulse of me cried to my heart, 'She is there!'
Roses and lilies and lilies and roses again,
Tangle of leaves and white magic of blossoming trees,
Sunlight that lay where, last moment, your footstep had lain--
Was not the garden enchanted that proffered me these?
Ah, what a garden it is since I caught you at last--
Scattered the magic and shattered the spell with a kiss:
Wintry and dreary and cold with the wind of the past,
Ah that a garden enchanted should wither to this!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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It Must Have Been The Roses
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Ten years the waves roll the ships home from the sea,
Thinkin well how it may blow in all good company,
If I tell another what your own lips told to me,
Let me lay neath the roses, till my eyes no longer see.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
One pane of glass in the window,
No one is complaining, no, come in and shut the door,
Faded is the crimson from the ribbons that she wore,
And its strange how no one comes round any more.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When You Define A Thing
when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest
it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,
but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds
a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Roses (Won't Work Now)
(jimbeau hinson, david murphy)
Red roses just wont work now
Here we go us again
Youve been gone and here you stand
With a dozen Im sorrys in your hand
Victim of your podent charms
I took you back with open arms
But along with the roses came the thorns
Chorus:
And thats why red roses just wont work now
Cause youve done too much
To talk things out
You could tell me you love me
But thats the one thing Ill always doubt
Red roses just wont work now
Gone for goods the trust I had
You let me done the garden path
Just too many times to take you back
So faith is why dont you
Save the roses for you know who
I already know how long theyll last
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amid The Roses
There was laughter 'mid the Roses,
For it was their natal day;
And the children in the garden were
As light of heart as they.
There were sighs amid the Roses,
For the night was coming on;
And the children-weary now of play-
Were ready to be gone.
There are tears amid the Roses,
For the children are asleep;
And the silence of the garden makes
The lonely blossoms weep.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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The Garden
The Garden
By: Adam M. Snow
The garden blooms to your delight;
to and from this very night.
When you are but one;
this garden blooms until you're done.
Keep that in mind but out of sight;
this garden is full of roses so white.
Open up and let shine the sun;
for Springtime has only begun.
Show off your garden so bright;
for there is no need to fight.
Now go on, no need to run;
when you're in your garden my son.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Roses on the Earth
Roses on the Earth
Shameful work you are doing
Laughing and smiling still then.
You are floating in the sea of poverty and sorrows
still you have
no hesitation,
No tension,
And no worries.
Can you say me to secret of your smile?
We are in surprise.
People see you and have a pity on your fate.
But you are always away from
the luxury of the fate.
Your profession is garbage collection.
No body can enter easily in your profession except you.
I have seen Roses in the garden.
They are blooming with the thorns.
You are also smiling with unlimited sorrows and poverty
Even on the heap of the garbage
which is more painful than the thorns.
We can say them
“The Roses on the Earth”
poem by Vijay Gupta
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A Bouquet Of Roses
A BOUQUET OF ROSES
When greeted by a bouquet of thirty roses
on the anniversary day,
A mixed feeling rose within, and I didn’t
know what to say!
But I thanked the Lord for that special day!
For long I had developed an attitude towards
roses you know,
As I watched its thorns and reddish glow!
When painted like the ‘Sunflower’ they neither
die or fade, -
A visual feast for the eyes, while olfactory nerves
remain dead!
Roses like humans when cut off from their
roots,
They gradually wither and fade, as roses should!
But its lingering perfume forever remains,
As I inhale, - I am wafted beyond the world of
the dead!
- Raj Nandy
- New Delhi
- 12 Feb 09
My Rainbow Garden
I have a Rainbow Garden
For inside of it you’ll see
Every color you would find
What a rainbow ought to be
The blue is for Forget-me-knots
Yellow for Daffodils
Red is for my gladiolas
My flowers are such a thrill
Green creates the many leaves
Of my Rainbow Garden too
I get such peacefulness
I would love to show it to you
My roses, oh I have many
My palette of color shades
I must enjoy them daily
For the time for them will fade
So if you’re feeling weary
And you don’t know what to do
Plant flowers of all colors
And have a Rainbow Garden too!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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A Hairy Fairy
In life, there are things we never expect to see
and a very large hairy fairy
with Pancho Villa moustache is one of them.
This one flew into my garden and squashed all my roses
on his bad landing on that fateful day.
Every time he waved his supposedly magic wand,
everything went bottom up.
The roses he tried to mend
had their flowers in the ground
and their roots pointing skyward in the air.
It got that bad I had to replant everyone.
I shuddered to think what other magic
he might have up his sleeve.
The big hairy fairy dressed in a short Toto
spread out his wings to say goodbye and fly away.
He never got no more than three feet off the ground
before he again came crashing down
squashing all my tulips this time.
Enough is enough you’re ruining garden.
Do you realise all the hard work I have put in.
The hairy fairy looked at me
and then started to cry.
No body loves me, even the fairies kicked me out
because I am different from them.
Being a soft heated fool I am
I invited him in for a cup of tea,
but everything he sat on broke
and now I was stuck with
a ten ton hairy fairy as a house guest.
As time went on my replacement, furniture
was costing me a packet.
Then one day I woke up and the big hairy fairy was gone,
now I kinda miss him.
However, saying that
I can start to rebuild what was my happy home again
and hope with luck that big hairy fairy does not come back again.
Then in my garden,
I heard an almighty thump
and looked out the window.
In my agony I moaned,
Oh no. He is back again.
poem by David Harris
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A Poem of Thoughts as the Evening Faded: I
Last night
Have you seen
The red roses
Dancing in riot
In your garden?
They turned redder
When the thorns
Raised a revolt
Did you know
How the garden-night
Moaned and moaned?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A night at a garden
A river crossing in the forest gloom ground
Brings me down from a hill secluded and tall
The garden roses that once we stroll
Is empty and forgetful of you and me
And lost it seems in troubles that circle endlessly around
Here at the head of a tinkling fall
The rivulet at the chasm trying to pass its way to the sea
The rivulet struggles the mounting rocks at the fall
As I do to hear you once again whisper
In odor and in color
“Be among the roses tonight”
Come into the garden of roses love
For the frightening black bat night has flown
Come into the secret garden dove
I am here at the gate but the moon alone
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad
And the musk of the roses in the night air is blown
For the breeze down the bank bay moves
And the garden of love is as high
Being to faint in the din of a remote horse hooves
On a bed of daffodils sky
To faint in the light of the rising sun I love
To faint waiting in its light and die
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