Make Friends
Reality
He is a prick
That pops your bubble
Honesty
She is a bully
That stamps on your rose tinted glasses
Well you better make them your friends then!
poem by Stevie Taite
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Related quotes
My Glasses That See Love
I go thru life with my eyes wide open
searching for that true love I'm craving to find,
only to see these rose-tinted glasses are
making my vision partiality blind.
Yet I do know what would be
in store,
I'd take the glasses off and no longer get the
chance to see
the beauty of romance that I've been waiting for,
the intensifying rose color,
as in a precious rose will always remains the core,
for it is the
lasting rose colored hue,
that by which makes all true love true.
poem by Linda I. Weischedel
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Rose Tinted Glasses
Pleaae don't ask me to take off
My rose tinted glasses
Sometimes when it's blurry
I peek over the top
But I really can't see 'very well'
Without them!
poem by Stevie Taite
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A Bubble In My Heart...!
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that floats
Like it is made out of soap
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that dance
Like it is riding on the breeze
A bubble a bubble in my heart
A bubble a bubble that fills my heart
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that sings
Like it knows how to sing
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that roams
Out of my heart in to the storms
A bubble a bubble in my heart
A bubble a bubble that fills my heart
There's a bubble in my heart
Baby can you see that
Yeah the bubble in my heart
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that shines
Much more than sunshine
A bubble a bubble in my heart
Yeah baby, there is a bubble, a bubble in my heart....!
poem by Rowving Smith
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Where Are Your Roses
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
A blooming rose pricks me with its horn andI let a cry sweet,
”Oh rose I love you”.
In this garden of pests and reptiles
Who grows this rose of just one thorn?
That is born to prick me alone?
Never do I get an answer
But the gardener throws a smile at me.
He thinks that I love this rose.
An idea springs off at last and
An answer redeems me at times.
There is no rose without a thorn.
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Rose Coloured Glasses
(scott mccarl)
Im an ivory tower boy
Never quite put down the toys
I always think the best of them all
I see only sunny skies
With the wool over my eyes
I never seem to find the crack or the fault
I see it all through rose coloured glasses
And I only see what matters to me
I see you all through rose coloured classes, yeah
The road that I chose is coloured rose
Its a funny sort of haze
All full of dreams of yesterdays
And the dreams are so real you could cry
And you know the grass is green
On the side youve never seen
And the thought is what helps you get by
I see it all through rose coloured glasses
And I only see what matters to me
I see you all through rose coloured classes, yeah
The road that I chose is coloured rose
As I grow a little more
Wonder what this all is for
And the brass ring is slipping away
I would keep the glasses near
And would shed a quiet tear
And maybe smile inside as I say
I see it all through rose coloured glasses
And I only see what matters to me
I see you all through rose coloured classes, yeah
The road that I chose is coloured...
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Before Glasses
eyes before glasses
like thought before word
or heart before hate
eyes before glasses
like trust before truth
or honesty before clarity
eyes before glasses
like hunger before ambition
or love before undercover
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Y.. Reality
Reality
Is dark and gloomy
But I see so much light
Reality
Is negative and bad
But I see so much goodness
Reality
Is falsehood and deceit
But I see so much honesty
Reality
is ugly and hideous
But I see so much beauty
Reality may be changing slowly
Please try to see
Take a look together with me
poem by Aufie Zophy
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I do a lot of running and hiking, and I also collect stamps - space stamps and Olympics stamps.
quote by Sally Ride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Friends
Dear Friends, reproach me not for what I do,
Nor counsel me, nor pity me; nor say
That I am wearing half my life away
For bubble-work that only fools pursue.
And if my bubbles be too small for you,
Blow bigger then your own: the games we play
To fill the frittered minutes of a day,
Good glasses are to read the spirit through.
And whoso reads may get him some shrewd skill;
And some unprofitable scorn resign,
To praise the very thing that he deplores;
So, friends (dear friends), remember, if you will,
The shame I win for singing is all mine,
The gold I miss for dreaming is all yours.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Tenderness
Words & music by paul simon
What can I do
What can I do
Much of what you say is true
I know you see through me
But theres no tenderness
Beneath your honesty
Oh, right and wrong
Right and wrong
Ooh, never helped us get along
You say you care for me
But theres no tenderness
Beneath your honesty
You and me were such good friends
Whats your hurry?
You and me could make amends
Im not worried
Im not worried
Oh, honesty,
Oh, honesty
Ooh, its such a waste of energy
No you dont have to lie to me
Just give me some tenderness
Beneath your honesty
You dont have to lie to me
Just give me some tenderness
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prick
She was told it would prick,
If she put her hand on it.
And sure enough it did.
I slide her hand
Between both of mine,
And rubbed!
She noticed then,
How small the prick.
Thinking it to be bigger!
I assured her it was not!
Showing her how to hold it.
And from then on...
We both enjoyed the Rose!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Toaster
An appliance of science is what I am
What I make, I love to see spread with lots of jam
I have three slots and a basket in a metal frame
What pops in, pops out never to be the same
1-2 or 3 slices that easy for me
And when ready, eat with a nice cup of tea
I can't boil, freeze water, fry or do roast
But what I can make for you is perfect TOAST
Da-da
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Peekabo, I Almost See You
Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to
lead it,
But there comes a day when your eyes
are all right but your arm isn't long
enough
to hold the telephone book where you can read it,
And your friends get jocular, so you go
to the oculist,
And of all your friends he is the joculist,
So over his facetiousness let us skim,
Only noting that he has been waiting for you ever since
you said Good evening to his grandfather clock under
the impression that it was him,
And you look at his chart and it says SHRDLU QWERTYOP,
and you say Well, why SHRDNTLU QWERTYOP? and he
says one set of glasses won't do.
You need two.
One for reading Erle Stanley Gardner's Perry Mason and
Keats's "Endymion" with,
And the other for walking around without saying Hello
to strange wymion with.
So you spend your time taking off your seeing glasses to put
on your reading glasses, and then remembering that your
reading glasses are upstairs or in the car,
And then you can't find your seeing glasses again because
without them on you can't see where they are.
Enough of such mishaps, they would try the patience of an
ox,
I prefer to forget both pairs of glasses and pass my declining
years saluting strange women and grandfather clocks.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Rose Coloured Glasses
I look at the world
through rose coloured glasses.
I see no evil
only good everywhere.
I see no conflict
only out reaching helping hands.
It only the world could be
the way I see it through my rose coloured glasses,
what a wonderful
world it would be.
Where everyone
would be happy and be free.
poem by David Harris
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Just Look At You Now
You were a flower in a bubble
floating about the place.
You were a flower in a bubble
with the sweetest, shyest face.
You were always pretty and smiling,
and just bounced off ugly things,
but one fine day your bubble burst
and you developed wings.
You became ready for any occasion,
you dressed either up or down.
Your make up's to shock or horrify,
or to impress in Ya Ya town.
You now design your own wardrobe
and make the items you wear.
Bangles and beads you throw together,
from places you don't declare.
You laugh at the incredibly unfunny,
and stand way out from the crowd.
You were once a flower in a bubble,
poem by Orlando Belo
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She Needs A Jealous Man
she needs a very jealous man in her life
to make her feel that she is lovable
that she is still worth the hassle
that she is still a crystal bubble
she needs a very jealous man
to prick her so she can burst into
a very lovely flower
to face the sun with beauty and this time
with oozing sex appeal and more this time
with concrete self-confidence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who I wish I was, And Who I am
Who I wish I was,
Is someone who will stand and fight,
Someone who will not run,
Someone who wont be scared,
Someone with many friends,
Someone who is a hero,
Someone who will tackle the bully,
Someone who charges at danger,
Who I am,
Who I am is someone who will not stand to fight,
Someone who runs,
Someone who is to afraid,
Someone with little friends,
Someone who is a loner,
Someone who wont face a bully,
Someone who always looks back,
Can I ever be who I want to be,
Can I ever face someone and fight,
Can I be a hero,
poem by Samantha Guinen
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When I Was A Child A Bully Would Challenge Me
When I was a child a bully would challenge me. He was bigger. I would run away. Over and over this went on. One morning I woke up from a dream in which I seem the bully punch some one I love over a fence. I was furious that morning. That morning the bully said something about my sister. Later that day we met at the park to fight. It was all set we would fight. It seemed as if every child from the school was there. I did not care. All that I seen, felt, all that ran through my mind was him punching my sister over the fence. The bully looked so surprised when I stepped into him and punched him right in the face. He started crying. When he got back to his feet the crowd of children were cheering. One of the older children ran in. He would not let him continue, blood poured from the bully's face. The older child might have sensed that I really would have changed the bully's life even more profoundly.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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Prick Of The Thorns
reality is not in the red petals
of the rose
decorated with six drops of dew
it is in the prick of the thorns
piercing your skin
letting out drops and drops of
blood
it is the pain in the mind
when the body starts to move out of focus
when the heart
begins to sing the old lines of the blues
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A rose has beauty,
But sweet smelling rose you seek,
Either, thorns that prick.
haiku by Mas Fazlin Mohamad Jailaini
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