The Rose
As late each flower that sweetest blows
I pluck'd, the Garden's pride!
Within the petals of a Rose
A sleeping Love I 'spied.
Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue;
All purple glow'd his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with the dew.
I softly seiz'd th' unguarded Power,
Nor scar'd his balmy rest:
And plac'd him, cag'd within the flower,
On spotless Sara's breast.
But when unweeting of the guile
Awoke the pris'ner sweet,
He struggled to escape awhile
And stamp'd his faery feet.
Ah! soon the soul entrancing sight
Subdued th' impatient boy!
He gaz'd! he thrill'd with deep delight!
Then clapp'd his wings for joy.
'And O!' he cried -- 'Of magic kind
What charms this Throne endear!
Some other Love let Venus find
I'll fix my empire here.'
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Planted A Flower
I planted me a flower
Though my friends say a weed
In my garden from a forgotten seed.
So I planted it deep
And around it I hoed
So someday my flower would grow.
But my flower never came
From the sunshine or the rain
That GOD placed above its head.
And so my friends would just laugh
Every time that they would pass
My garden, my plant and I.
Gardeners were them all
As though they have been called
To bring beauty upon our sight.
And a gardener wasn't I
Just a poet in disguise
And for that reason I sat and cried.
More care to my plant I gave
And more affection to it I showed.
While praying one day my flower would grow.
And my friends would just laugh at me
When they saw me on my knees
And to my flower when they heard me speak.
To ignorance they did blame
Its a weed they would exclaim
Then they would walk away.
For a madman I must be
Trying to create a flower out of a weed
Then I would bow my head to weep.
And every night that I went to bed
I dreamt of a rainbow in my head
Which was my flower I planted with my own hands.
And every morning when I awoke
I ran to my garden, but I was torn
For my flower was still unborn.
And I could hear my friends laugh at me
Hidden behind an old oak tree
And I could see them shake their heads and walk away.
But then came one magic morning
When in my head my dreams were forming
While in my garden, my dream, had awoke.
I awoke, to gasps and jeers
I arose, to shouts and cheers
Then in my garden, I walked in bitterness and fear.
Then I saw a rainbow with a halo
I saw my friends with a child's glow
And then I heard the wind, as she softly spoke to me.
You had faith in a weed,
A weed, had faith in you.
And nature, had faith in you two.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Purple Orchid
Once the maturity of balmy embrace is in purple
Smile is still too sweet though you have no dimples
Love from you is soul and mind refinement
Hand-touch can be more than beatific achievement
My purple orchid makes me the luckiest girl ever
Twice the royal flower is delicate some time longer
My purple orchid charms me some way meaningfully
Creating love for someone no more logically
Someday later I will find my finest gentleman
Complete with a bouquet of purple orchids in his hand
A rare and magnificent flower preserves true love
A light color purple, happiness I won't get off
poem by Renny Puspa Sari
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The Death of a Flower
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Blooming 'neath sunlight's rays
Life gives love its power
Sustains you all your days
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Bright petals circularly arrayed
Life gives love its power
To hold one's heart in sway
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Flourishing by a cool bay
Life gives love its power
But eventually both fade to gray
Love is a wilted flower
Petals all crumpled and frayed
Life gave love its power
But death took both away
poem by Elizabeth Sheaffer
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The Only Flower You Are
A sunbeam caress the only flower from my garden,
What a nice feeling, what a pleasure,
Than to admire the beauty of a flower,
And closing eyes to dream about it.
It's a sweet flower,
Which opened its petals,
To get the joyful morning dew,
And with its fragrance to stun me,
To bring into my heart its magic.
But the most beautiful flower,
That sit next to me,
It's you my love,
You are just a flower bud,
You are all i ever want to hold, ,
You are my dream transposed into reality,
You are my life, my joy.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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The Quintessence Of The Flowers
Pensively, come to where the garden is
With your feet sprinting through the brambly sophistication.
Pry - you never did, and you never will - for
The peculiarity of the flowers rouse the tides of your scruple;
The petals are tethered to the body so slender - modest
In a starburst as the malingering shrill of the flower is the
Catalyst of the somersaulting noon-time delight,
Caught by the fancy of this inveigle, the farce has been played out,
Dear agile lover - you dare not pluck this flower for you tremble
In the nullity of its feigned void - there is an augury to be found
In a flower: prolix, sapid and perennial like how the trees
Have witnessed the scowling of the heavens as the mire
Satiates each of the heaven's parcel!
You ask me incessantly now, that you have come to the
Acquaintance of the petals - these wondrous parasols,
The cantankerous thorns cloaking the flower's flagrant body;
These are no more than wry and insidious invitations:
A challenge to the eagerness of your heart to pluck the flower
Out of its perturbed garden as the beasts of the night trample a trifle morose
Anguish all over the tapestry.
Its roots need not an explanation dear love, just open your callow eyes
And there you will see that the petals, the thorns, the curtailed stem,
And the perfunctory silence of the roots are one and the same.
This flower at the cynosure of the garden is a vivid reflection of you,
Conjured, and that is the meaning of the flower:
That forever you are girdled though your thorns
May perforate my entirety, my hands - let it bleed
And that is the meaning of the flower,
That even if the petals - your petals whittle away
I will still hold your reminiscences like that of a multihued petal
Fluttering away into the sea where I look for you.
And your slender body that I will cradle as we sieve
Through everything and anything that will impede
Our inexorable swiftness.
I am the garden, and you are the flower, ceaselessly
I will girdle you until the vale abates into nothingness.
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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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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Tale Of Another Selfish Giant
you ruffian, Oscar,
what are you doing
on the wall
of my garden?
do you not see
the warning signs all over?
Sir, I’ve done what
I need to
and I’m climbing over
to jump back to open space
on my side of the earth
you scoundrel, Oscar,
you surly boy -
did you pluck the flower
the red red rose
so precious and rare?
Sir, I did indeed pluck
the flower
the red red rose
so precious and rare;
and I slipped
through your daughter’s
window
and stole a kiss
as she lay sleeping
and put the rose in the vase
on the side table by her bed;
and I feel now she awakes
and glowing with joy at seeing
the red red rose
so precious and rare,
she blows me a kiss
in this morning’s cool air
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Petals of a Red Rose
A Red rose is a harmonious flower,
Symbolising love, passion and devotion.
As many numbered red roses are,
There only needs to be one to say it all.
When you hand someone a red rose,
You tell them that you love them.
A red rose cannot be itself,
What truely makes them so important,
Is not the colour or the number of them,
But the petals itself.
The petals hold everything in place,
Encouraging the flower to be more graceful,
Giving hope and love,
To what we would normally think is plain.
A red rose is such an intricate design,
Just like us, your daughters,
We are your red rose,
We are capable of living on our own,
But like a red rose we need that one special bit,
To encourage us, believe in us and love us,
Which is why we say,
You are the petals of the red rose.
poem by Music Galore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A seed of love
I stand here with a dying
flower in my hand
It's our love
It's petals lie at my feet
along with the pieces of my heart
All twisted and black
But deep in the dark corner
of your heart
Theres a seed
a seed of love
Being kept from the light
I know cause i planted it there
And when your mind feels free
to let the light in and let it grow
It will overcome you and burst into flower
I will be there to hold that flower
And we together will nurture
that flower
And from it make a garden of love
to live in forever
poem by Paul Larmour
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laura Lee and Her Rose
My name is Laura Lee
And I enjoy spending my time
Playing in the sunlight
With my little Rose,
The daughter of my dreams,
She came to me
As welcome as a lilac breeze
Four years ago when I was twenty.
I’m married to her father
Who is seven years older than me,
I was a young girl
And he was tall and handsome,
His words were sweet
Like tree-ripened summer fruit
And he made me feel loved
Like I never felt before.
When Rose was born,
The love that was inside of me
Was like a small seed taking form,
Blossoming into flower and soul,
Transforming me into mother
And no longer a little girl,
She was the petals of my heart.
But the father of my Rose
No longer appreciated the garden
From which his flower sprung,
The mother that gave him
Such a lovely fragrance
That will linger long into the world
With his same blue eyes,
He no longer kissed me tenderly like before,
I felt rejected and despised.
Rose’s father began offering
His sun-sweetened words to other girls
Even younger than me,
Staying out late into the night
Roaming the city streets
Seeking superficial pleasures
Instead of tending his garden and his flower.
My heart broke like delicate chinaware,
I wept in a world without rainbows,
The man that gave me love
Now treated me harshly and unkind;
I know, I’ll have to leave him
And find all my hope
In the flower that came from me
And the flower that will always be in me.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Come Back As A Flower
The starngest thought came to me on this morning
As I awake to greet the coming dawn
The sun was hardly peaking through the garden
It felt that with everything I was one
Then I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
The dew had finished making love to many
A rainbow smelling sweet was in the air
I envied all the silence I saw growing
So unmoved by things outside themselves
Then how I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
Oh as a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
(background)
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
Sweetness of love
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elegy on the Death of a Child
Fair was thy blossom, tender flower,
That open'd like the rose in May,
Though nursed beneath the chilly shower
Of fell regret, for love's decay.
How oft thy mother heaved the sigh
O'er wreaths of honour early shorn,
Before thy sweet and guiltless eye
Had open'd on the dawn of morn!
How oft, above thy lowly bed,
When all in silence slumber'd low,
The fond and filial tear was shed,
Thou child of love, of shame, and woe!
Her wrong'd but gentle bosom burn'd
With joy thy opening bloom to see;
The only breast that o'er thee yearn'd;
The only heart that cared for thee.
Oft her young eye, with tear-drops bright,
Pleaded with Heaven for her sweet child,
When faded dreams of past delight
O'er recollection wander'd wild.
Fair was thy blossom, bonnie flower,
Fair as the softest wreaths of spring,
When late I saw thee seek the bower
In peace thy morning hymn to sing.
Thy little foot across the lawn
Scarce from the primrose press'd the dew;
I thought the spirit of the dawn
Before me to the greenwood flew.
E'en then the shaft was on the wing,
Thy spotless soul from earth to sever,
A tear of pity wet the string
That twang'd, and seal'd thy doom for ever.
I saw thee late, the emblem fair
Of beauty, innocence, and truth,
Start tiptoe on the verge of air,
'Twixt childhood and unstable youth;
But now I see thee stretch'd at rest:
To break that rest shall wake no morrow -
Pale as the grave-flower on thy breast!
Poor child of love, of shame, and sorrow!
May thy long sleep be sound and sweet;
Thy visions fraught with bliss to be;
And long the daisy, emblem meet,
Shall shed its earliest tear o'er thee!
poem by James Hogg
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Faith FLower
Faith Flower
Faith Flower
Purple tendrils escape out of my sight is limited to corners and deep dark recess is hidden from the world at large considers lost as the way it is survival becomes better the more it is let go and required of faith the flower grows bidden on the road side it comes of love unsought but paid for with memory and love it grows in hearts upon the stone of the asphalt jungle is so cold a slab of pain it keeps all the homeless frozen like sides of meat in some large footlocker they moan and cry at night the wind brings me there distress the flower grows inside my heart my love threatens to make me warm it keeps me hot it glows at night eye must cover up unless someone sees my purple light to she who cares she loves me and it shows to no one but our love is kept from agony only by your faith my purple flower loves to read of faith kept in our hearts she smiles and love is kept is kept is kept the purple grows and lights the night is kept in faith and love unshown
poem by Charles Hice
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Sweet Flora
Sweet Flora
Lovers flit from flower to flower
ignoring flora's lusty dower.
So, there she would wait, a lovely sight
wishing for her lover to alight
and spread her seed with April showers.
She watches from her lofty bower
as Spring succumbs to Summer's power.
but sees no messengers in their flight.
As Summer's sun begins to cower
sweet Flora does mourn her endless plight.
She dreams of Autum's belated knight
arriving at the perfect hour
to stroke the nub within her flower
with fluttering wings that can excite
bringing her joy and complete delight.
As Autumn departs without a fight
her lover arrived upon the site
where love did wait and love did scour
for one to bare her lusty dower
His heart was so sad, he felt contrite.
Her lovely petals were once so bright;
body wilted and scent devoured
as he sought natures perfect flower.
But, he was too late to be her knight;
sweet Flora did die from Winter's bite.
©2008 Dawn Slanker
poem by Dawn Slanker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Straw-flower Me
Look at me. wont you tell me
What you see behind the tinsel
Flower lady that you made
Me feel I must be.
Dont you know even tinsel flowers
Grow uneasy shining all the time.
Sometimes they find they cant even glow.
Could you love a blue straw-flower
With no mystic magic power?
Would you miss the glitter
Of your fantasy?
You know she isnt really me, baby.
Just to please you maybe
I can be a silver rose, but
Dont you know its only straw-flower me?
Could you love a blue straw-flower
With no mystic magic power?
Would you miss the glitter
Of your fantasy?
You know she isnt really me, baby,
Baby, baby.
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Primrose Dance
Skirts like the amber petals of a flower,
A primrose dancing for delight
In some enchantment of a bower
That rose to wizard music in the night;
A rhythmic flower whose petals pirouette
In delicate circles, fain to follow
The vague aerial minuet,
The mazy dancing of the swallow;
A flower's caprice, a bird's command
Of all the airy ways that lie
In light along the wonder-land,
The wonder-haunted loneliness of sky:
So, in the smoke-polluted place,
Where bird or flower might never be,
With glimmering feet, with flower-like face,
She dances at the Tivoli.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Black Rose
A Black Rose,
Glistening in the rain,
A sign, a symbol,
An insignia of loss,
It’s the Flower of Darkness,
Lying in wait on this cold winter night,
It represents the beauty of despair,
The grace of defeat,
The feelings we all find hard to bear,
The millions of people that have all loved and lost,
All behind this flower that holds us aloft,
Within its petals we drown our grief,
With its stem we clutch to what’s left of life,
Within its thorns we spite those who have set us so
And within this dark flower we find our peace,
The power to let go and leave the loved lie,
So with this flower we sign our hearts,
We accept our everlasting love,
And move on,
A Black Rose,
Glistening in the rain,
Ill forever love you,
Ill never lose hope,
But until you come back,
Here’s a Black Rose,
For my love…
- The Black Rose
poem by Andrew Rose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A-b= Sad
Love is sad, and love is cruel.
To find it again, don't be a fool.
My flower was young,
And my flower was sweet,
When we were together,
Our passion was heat,
We traveled together, never apart,
And I knew that forever she would be in my heart,
I would look in her eyes and I would hold my breathe
To lose such a treasure would mean certain death,
This sweet little thing that I used to adore,
I never thought we would be no more.
The sun went away and it started to rain,
The joy in my heart soon turned into pain.
My little flower that I adored,
My absence was long, and she got bored
My flower has wilted from the lack of the heat,
Resentment took over, and our love was beat,
If only we planted more of those seeds,
Our garden would flourish and not the weeds.
Wilted flower don't be sad,
Another's garden is not so bad,
Always look up and never bend,
And soon you will find that your heart will mend
Love is sad, and love is cruel,
To find it again, don't be a fool.
poem by Juliet Sinclarie
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Miranda's Song
Ye elves! when spangled starlight gleams,
That flit beneath the ray,
Till morning darts her magic beams
And pale night hies away:
Ye know where springs each flow'ret rare,
The sweetest seek for me:
I'll weave a chaplet rich and fair—
My father! 'tis for thee!
The flow'rs, the trees, the birds appear
To wait but on my call;
But he whose power has plac'd them here
Is dearer far than all:
My thoughts with tender pleasure rest
On each delight I see;
But all the love that swells in my breast,
My father, is for thee!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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