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Poems On / About ROSE  11/23/2014 9:53:09 AM
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The Rise

The rise we get,
from the things we do,
it drives us all,
we love it too.

To shoot a man,
or to speed a car.
The rise is everywhere,
its never far.

The rise we get,
when he rapes a girl,
or what she does after dinner,
she just loves to hurl.

We love the rise,
as we lead a new war.
When we dip into drugs,
or when he f***s his whore.

The rise we get,
when she cuts herself,
or when he jumps from a building,
no one cares to help.

Because its the rise we get,
that we accept the fall,
It's the rise we get,
that will kill us all.

The rise.
ally jones

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I saw the rose from afar, admiring its beauty
In time the beauty was not enough and I moved closer
I stopped to see that the rose was battered
But the beauty still shined through so I admired it from where I was
Again the rose taunted me with its beauty
I dropped to my knees and saw that the rose had torn leaves
But the beauty shined through still capturing me
The rose teased me, tempted me further
I leaned in the fragrance was like paradise
Then I saw that the rose had thorns
But I closed my eyes ignoring them
Inhaled deeply drinking in the paradise
Feeling of pure bliss washed over me
An uncontrollable urge swept through me
I grasped hold of the rose eyes still closed
The thorns sliced my skin
Snatching my hand away
I opened my eyes only to find a pile of ashes where the rose once stood
My hand bleeding with thorn still in the wound
And the beauty was gone
The smell had vanished
But the ashes still remained

copyright Alayna Hoblik
Lily Bellefluer

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Often when I see the sinking
sun that’s setting in the west
and better men than I start drinking
I start to think of how the best
is over, and recall the east,
where, it seems long ago, I saw
the sun when it began to rise,
and until noon began to soar
above my head in cloudless skies.
I rise with rising of the sun,
but when it sinks I start to fret,
and from its dying rays I run.
I do not wish to see it set,
but wait for something not surprising
which must happen, I feel sure,
a new day with a brand new rising
which for sunset is a cure.

Inspired by “The Rising, ” by Bruce Springsteen, which the NY Times reports has been a fight song for John Edwards in his present Presidential campaign as it was in his campaign for Vice-President in 2004. Its last lines are:

Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight

gershon hepner

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Our Faded Roses

Scanning the cemetery, my eyes did focus upon
our Stone of Roses; so fair and so fair. Running my hands upon the Rose reliefs, tears of
forgotten years, came remorsefully down my
sorrowful cheeks. A Stone of Roses, given to Our Father and Mother,
is all that remains of lives so dear, and now so glad! Thinking often of these trips to that place of quiet abode,
I realize the Stone of Roses, is now so blessed. In Rose reliefs, I see something so pleasing among
the broken chips; a thought, a memory, and many dreams. Dreams, thoughts, and memories, I imagine now in these
moments, another Place of Roses. Remorse not! I urge myself!
Sorrow no more! I still demand! The Stone of Roses is sometimes just the heart!
The Place of Roses is just a brand new start.
Richard L. Merila

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Read more: rose poems, running poems, memory poems, sometimes poems, sorrow poems, father poems, mother poems, heart poems, dream poems
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Poems On / About ROSE