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Poems On / About ROSE  10/31/2014 7:35:59 AM
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  237.     

Rise

Still i rise to fame,
trying to escape the pain that i've
faced,
Hold my head high trying to forget
the painful days,
The days that i've lost all just
trying to get to a better place,

Still i rise to fame,
Still i'm trying to write my name
on the book of fame,
Though sometimes i fail but still i
try my best to rise up and stand on
the world stage,
probably get out of this cage and
rise up fame.

Still i rise to fame,
with the world giving me a clean
page,
Giving me a chance to write
something,
I couldnt write about my pain,
remember what i said about a
clean page?

Still i rise to fame,
with the world as my stage,
and life as a well written but
undiscovered play,
i rise to fame,
While trying to figure out this
place,
While trying to familiarise my self
with this world stage.

Still i'm going to rise to fame,
Despite all my pain and fails,
I rise above all the hate,
Stand tall with a smile on my face,
'Cause My past is not what my
future holds.
 
Lesego Tsiu

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  238.     

Love Song of Rasheed the Mad Cap

Praise to thee great Allah,
For carving my beloved
Pure as the sand of Mecca,
Rarer than the rose rarest.

But Allah,
Why you make her princess
Beyond reach of servant Rasheed?

The suitors are at the palace gate
Hankering after my love-bird.
Her father the Khaleef
Hath proclaimed-
Let eet bee
Who touches the rose tree
The one she marree.

How great you are Allah,
The fat prince of Persia
Fed on lard is passing
Touching not the rose tree.

Hurray Bismillah,
The Nawab of Nokredeet
Has his eyes on the balcony
His hands on the box he carree,
He touches not the rose tree.

Marches Ahmed, prince of 7 palaces
Missing the rose tree
By an isle & 14 torches,
O merciful father of horses.

& Zanab Tak-i-Wauk
Takes his walk
Right past the rose tree
O lover of the love famished

With each suitor passing
Touching not the rose tree,
My beloved blushes
Hoping it will be mee,

Guide me then
With hands of strategee,
To the rose tree the rose tree.
 
G. S. Sharat Chandra

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  239.     

Bed of Roses

Upon a Bed of Roses,
My Love is in wait for you.

Upon a Bed of Roses,
It shall stay for eternity

Upon a Bed of Roses,
Im living for you.

Upon a Bed of Roses,
I bask in your serenity,

Upon a Bed of Roses,
Lying, like a lost flower,

Upon a Bed of Roses,
My eternal Love waits to be found.

Upon a Bed of Roses,
I wait, hour upon hour,

Upon a Bed of Roses,
I wait to hear the sound.

Of your Love,
That I awoke for.

Upon a Bed of Roses,
I wish to be with you, Forever

(7/16/2006)
 
Michael Koelliker

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  240.     

Rose

Spring, the rose turns golden.
Summer, the rose turns scarlet.
Fall, the rose turns ashen.
Winter, the rose turns ebony.

The roses beauty is stunning
in spring and summer.
The rose is dismal
when fall and winter come.

The rose never lives long.
It turns from a tender-hearted color
into an unfriendly color.

We want the rose to remain,
but when the final rose of fall
turns black,
love will never come back.
 
Genevieve Lilith Vesta

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