En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Warm Roses

Hesitant sunset
on the sad horizon
whispers its tired roses
scarlet red and so warm

fresh dewy flowers
of another dawn

poem by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
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Your scarlet lips

Your scarlet red lips
like a hesitant sunset
tenderly illumine
and warm my heart
at the timid dawn
of my dreams

poem by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
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Your Lips Like A Sunset

I still remember
your warm, sweet smile
lingering softly
on your tender lips

so scarlet like a sunset
transforming to a dawn
dewy, timid and docile
through my long dreams

poem by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
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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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Perfumed Kisses

Your perfumed kisses
so tender and warm
like translucent
scarlet red roses
of the taciturn sunset

softly fade away
through the whispering lips
of my diaphanous dreams

poem by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
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Renunciation

ROSE of the desert of my heart,
Moon of the night that is my soul,
Thou can'st not know how sweet thou art,
Nor what wild tides thy beams control.

For all thy heart a garden is,
Thy soul is like a dawn of May.
And garden and dawn might both be his,
Who from them both must turn away.

Oh, garden of the Spring's delight!
Oh, dewy dawn of perfect noon!
I will not pluck thy roses white
Or warm thy May-time into June.

I can but bless thee, moon and rose,
And journey far and very far
To where the night no moonbeam shows,
To where no happy roses are!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Sunset and Dawn

The Sunset tells the end of everything,
the Dawn tells the beginning.
During the Sunset,
the sky turns orange,
like Love is when it's old and false.
During the Dawn,
the sky turns pink and blue,
like Love is when it's fresh and true.
At Sunset,
you get a glimpse of the moon and stars,
and you know it's going to be okay.
At Dawn,
you get a glimpse of the sun in a new form,
and you know it's not over yet.

poem by Laura Rodriguez
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I Pray To Have Your Memory Linger

What we had yesterday...
From me,
Just will not go away.

I would get up at dawn,
And think about you.
I would sit to witness the Sunset.
Until from the horizon,
It was gone from view.

What we had yesterday...
From me,
Just will not go away.

Each face I'd see smiling...
I'd see you smiling too!
Each couple I'd see holding hands as they walked...
I'd remember your voice,
With a wish to hear you again to me talk.

I would get up at dawn,
And think about you.
I would sit to witness the Sunset.
Until from the horizon,
It was gone from view.

What we had yesterday...
From me,
Just will not go away.

Even today,
I pray to have your memory linger.
Even today,
I pray the thought of you...
Never goes away!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Dry Roses

Today is not your birthday,
However, it is a very illustrious day
To offer you the dry roses
That I soaked in a lot of love from head to toes.

These dried flowers, although picked some time,
Will infinitely remain fresh like a wrapped buried dime.
You will neither have to feed them like children,
Nor water them like the camellias in the vipers' garden.

My crystallized roses transcend the four seasons,
They are protected by deadly thorns and one crazy smurf;
The rocks are part of this solemn army.

There are no bad days on earth;
Every day has its own criteria and beauty.
My roses are endless like time and the horizon.

poem by Hebert Logerie
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Scarlet Ribbons

I peeked in to say good-night,
When I heard my child in prayer.
And for me some scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for my hair.
All the stores were closed and shuttered,
All the streets were dark and bare.
In our town no scarlet ribbons,
Not one ribbon for her hair.
Thru the night my heart was aching,
Just before the dawn was breaking.
I peeked in and on her bed,
In gay profusion lying there,
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
If I live to be a hundred,
I will never know from where.
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
Scarlet ribbons- theres magic in the air,
Scarlet, scarlet ribbons for her hair.

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Memory of June

When June comes dancing o'er the death of May,
With scarlet roses tinting her green breast,
And mating thrushes ushering in her day,
And Earth on tiptoe for her golden guest,

I always see the evening when we met--
The first of June baptized in tender rain--
And walked home through the wide streets, gleaming wet,
Arms locked, our warm flesh pulsing with love's pain.

I always see the cheerful little room,
And in the corner, fresh and white, the bed,
Sweet scented with a delicate perfume,
Wherein for one night only we were wed;

Where in the starlit stillness we lay mute,
And heard the whispering showers all night long,
And your brown burning body was a lute
Whereon my passion played his fevered song.

When June comes dancing o'er the death of May,
With scarlet roses staining her fair feet,
My soul takes leave of me to sing all day
A love so fugitive and so complete.

poem by Claude McKay
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a Sheaf of red roses

Today I saw
a sheaf of red roses,
which a florist displayed.

The petals was still closed
and was fresh,
as if just cut from the trunk.

The roses were spread wildly
and something of their fragrance,
drifted outside in the air.

The flowers caught
various people’s eyes and some bees,
were flying around at the door.

I just had to get those flowers,
but remembered
that my darling loves sweet peas more.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Roses In Madrid

Roses, Senors, roses!
Love is subtly hid
In the fragrant roses,
Blown in gay Madrid.
Roses, Senors, roses!
Look, look, look, and see
Love hanging in the roses,
Like a golden bee!
Ha! ha! shake the roses--
Hold a palm below;
Shake him from the roses,
Catch the vagrant so!

High I toss the roses
From my brown palm up;
Like the wine that bubbles
From a golden cup.
Catch the roses, Senors,
Light on finger tips;
He who buys red roses,
Dreams of crimson lips!
Tinkle! my fresh roses,
With the rare dews wet;
Clink! my crisp, red roses,
Like a castanet!

Roses, Senors, roses,
Come, Hidalgo, buy!
Proudly wait my roses
For thy rose's eye
Be thy rose as stately
As a pacing deer;
Worthy are my roses
To burn behind her ear.
Ha I ha! I can see thee,
Where the fountains foam,
Twining my red roses
In her golden comb!

Roses, Donnas, roses,
None so fresh as mine,
Pluck'd at rose of morning
By our Lady's shrine.
Those that first I gather'd
Laid I at her feet,
That is why my roses
Still are fresh and sweet.
Roses, Donnas, roses!
Roses waxen fair!
Acolytes my roses,
Censing ladies' pray'r!

Roses, roses, roses!
Hear the tawny bull
Thund'ring in the circus--
Buy your arms full.
Roses by the dozen!
Roses by the score!
Pelt the victor with them--
Bull or Toreador!

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Your scarlet red lips
like a warm, timid sunset
inflame my feelings

haiku by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
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Scarlet Ribbons

(jack segal/evelyn danzig)
I peeped in to say good night
When i heard my child in prayer
"send for me, some scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for my hair"
All the stores were closed and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In my town no scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeped in and on her bed
In gay profusion lying there
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
If i live to be a hundred
I will never know from where
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poems Done On A Late Night Car

I. CHICKENS

I am The Great White Way of the city:
When you ask what is my desire, I answer:
"Girls fresh as country wild flowers,
With young faces tired of the cows and barns,
Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries,
Slender supple girls with shapely legs,
Lure in the arch of their little shoulders
And wisdom from the prairies to cry only softly at
the ashes of my mysteries."

II. USED UP

Lines based on certain regrets that come with rumination
upon the painted faces of women on
North Clark Street, Chicago

Roses,
Red roses,
Crushed
In the rain and wind
Like mouths of women
Beaten by the fists of
Men using them.
O little roses
And broken leaves
And petal wisps:
You that so flung your crimson
To the sun
Only yesterday.

III. HOME

Here is a thing my heart wishes the world had more of:
I heard it in the air of one night when I listened
To a mother singing softly to a child restless and angry
in the darkness.

poem by Carl Sandburg
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Summer Dawn.

Come with thy feet to the water, and bathe
Thy beauty here in the stream that will not pass!
The soft green leaves with their shadows swathe
The either bank, and under the ferns and grass
The dreamy crickets chirp in the dewy dawn,
Now that the light of the stars has grown
Into a thin pale mist in the night unknown;
The small birds twitter, whose senses quite
Have not yet out of their dreams withdrawn —
Here where my heart too waits for the light
Under the cloudy hills that soon will run
With bright feet in the ways of the sun,
As if they were but chained to the air:
Come to me now so fresh and fair —
Now that the reign of Sleep is done —
With twinkling feet in the dewy dawn!
O love, as grass comes to the lawn,
As day comes to the East, come thou —
Come to me now!

poem by Robert Crawford
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A purple pool of love
softly reflecting your lips
so scarlet and warm
like an eternal sunset
in the mirror of my dreams

tanka by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
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Come With Me To The Edge Of The World

Come with me to the edge of the world,
Let's go there where sunset is touching the horizon,
Where is only silence and peace,
There is a place just for us, for you and me.

Far away from people, far away from crowd,
We are running to find a place for our hearts,
Where is only sky above us to share with it our dreams,
Where is only peace and harmony.

The night was coming, such a silent night,
Only your arms and wind were wrapping me,
Only your whispers and seagulls were my music,
Only your heart was belonging to me.

The sea is touching our feet laying on the sand,
Only seagulls are screaming crossing the sky,
Making aware us this is not a dream,
Is reality of our lives, another page in the book of life.

There is a place just for us, for you and me,
Where is only silence and peace,
Let's go there where sunset is touching the horizon,
Come with me to the edge of the world.

poem by Cristina Teodor
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Upon Roses

Under a lawn, than skies more clear,
Some ruffled Roses nestling were,
And snugging there, they seem'd to lie
As in a flowery nunnery;
They blush'd, and look'd more fresh than flowers
Quickened of late by pearly showers;
And all, because they were possest
But of the heat of Julia's breast,
Which, as a warm and moisten'd spring,
Gave them their ever-flourishing.

poem by Robert Herrick
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Like A Fresh Brook Flows

Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.

Dawn leaves its chill to a warming.
As birds are heard chirping.
And all of nature seems to sing.

Smiling faces seen to grace,
In places where we go.
Letting known their feelings shown.
As blooming flowers are exposed.

And laughter shared among the children,
Bring instant memories.
And romance filled remembered dances,
Slowly...
Like a fresh brook in a forest flows.

Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.

Dawn arrives with Sunrise warmings,
As nature scents with a lingered tingling.

Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.

Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.

Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.

Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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