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Poems On / About ROSE  7/31/2014 10:42:10 PM
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  369.     

The Red Rose

The red rose wept for long
Upon the autumn sad song

And then recovered from grief
And shattered the wet green leaf

The spring is there but the tears
Of lover, the autumn how bears

The little heart in search of charm
Is beating and beating and warm

The red rose is watching the gloom
Of the lover’s heart being in boom

His beloved had nodded him back
The rose from him she does not take

The nature feeling warmth is now cold
The autumn will take him in firm hold

The beauty will go leaving the scars
Of drowning moon and falling stars

The thorns will curse the rose to retreat
The red rose weeps on nature’s treat



It doesn’t matter what have gone
The rose will wait for the dawn

The spring no more helps the friend
His beauty will shatter like wall of sand

His days of life will end very soon
At morn, at noon or after noon

The rose sees autumn in the spring
A wave of sorrow his end will bring

The red rose weeps and weeps more
Upon these tears his eyes will sore

No spring can stop, no joy can amaze
With each passing moment his death he chase

So times are when autumn comes in spring
No joy can touch you no nerve can sing


February 16,2005
 
Abdul Sattar

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Read more: autumn poems, rose poems, spring poems, red poems, nature poems, beauty poems, grief poems, joy poems, sorrow poems, sad poems, moon poems, friend poems, song poems, green poems, death poems, heart poems, star poems
   
 

   
   
 

  370.     

The Black Rose

The Black Rose

Black is the Rose,
as it stands for pain!
Dead
or tainted otherwise.
A sin stained Rose
Once Red or White
A Rose with a past like shadow
A Rose with a sin so heavy,
like ink,
it swells and spreads like disease,
turning what was once,
Passion!
or
Pure!
now,
a vile flower in the bed.
We fear this flower
We fear it's color
We fear it's wrath,
as it is a path the white rose may take.
A path we wish not to make.
The Black Rose
The sin drenched,
soul tainted,
corrupted,
Black Rose
 
Wesley Mincin

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  371.     

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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  372.     

Pink Rose

I love every single color of roses
The gardeners have created
Beauty of a rose certainly
Cannot be understated

Reds are bright or a deep color
Yellow the color of the sun
And lavender roses are special
And I find them so much fun

Orange roses are captivating
So many shades of them all
Some roses are bushes
And long-stemmed are very tall

Multi-colored roses so lovely
You just can not get enough
You can cut them for bouquets
For their stems are very tough

The fragrance, oh the fragrance
Is virtually hard to express
Almost a phenomenon
Just part of nature I guess

But the rose most special to me
You’ll find in poetry or prose
And that is my very favorite
Loveliest of all, the pink rose!
 
Marilyn Lott

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