Rose

Learn more about other poetry terms

All the plants have died Even the final rose The leaves are falling more and more  As the wind blows The mornings darker The days quicker The wind blows harder The lights flicker
At the dawn of creation, as the gods formed a hundred million galaxies, there also formed with them our blazing and bold sun. This newly formed orb began to rise from the horizon line of our Earth,
Red lips take a sip of the evening's wine.  Heavily coated lashes gazed upon her victim. A man of 5'7", broad shoulders, able to scare any other man with a certain gaze.
Red lips take a sip of the evening's wine.  Heavily coated lashes gazed upon her victim. A man of 5'7", broad shoulders, able to scare any other man with a certain gaze.
I wait, I listen  For my heart is a new As it whistles and glistens My mind occupied  And I try to deny That a rose in blooming  Is a bud's undoing But I have yet to learn
The children run and play in a dark world. The smoke infiltrates our lungs: fits of coughing interrupt their play. They play in a dead world, putting on a show for those half-alive.
I hold a flower in my hand It's been with me since I was born Delicate to the eye, soft to the touch Perfect, taintless, lily white As I run and as I play I try to keep my flower clean
Love. The latest love resembles the wilting flowers in the garden. Once blossomed, alive, an. Blissful. Now it's a old stale memory; lost in the backseat of my mind. How lovely at the thought of a rose. A Blood red rose. Not just any rose.
Listen. There is a beat, Soft, but clear.  One, Two, Three; Listen. There is a beat.  Getting louder, faster.  Four, Five, Six; Listen.
Rose petals wrap against each other in their whispered secrets; too scared to reveal the charms they own. Masks are not ever real.
I see it there, a beautiful rose, though now only a tiny green bud shows. It will slowly blossom into an elegant flower, that represents love on the midnight hour. It’s lovely petals so delicate and thin,
If there was a time in my life where I said I hated you I lied If there was a time where I said you didn’t mean anything to me I lied If there was a time when I said I didn’t need you I lied
I bare to you a rose A symbol to overcome the foes The rose is damaged and worn I protected it for you, even though I ended torn
Oh look how the rose withers. Oh look how the petals fall. With time it begins to shrivel, Till time fine’ly makes its call.  
You're my little Rose But you've changed, Rose Everything you were, Rose Just isn't there anymore, Rose   And I just wish, Rose That you came to me, Rose Instead you kept it in, Rose
To the rose with tears in her petals.   Who wilts every morning as the suns rays illuminate her wounds   Who’s roots dig deep but were grown too thin to drink in life  
Dear rose,   A hero that carries us all— Willing to caress us with a tender heart. Your sweet embrace is what holds lost pieces together.                 The Valley of the Rose.  
      don't give me poems of spring or empty words of love       don't gift me roses or rings  or all the gold in Rome       don't sell me to princes or kings for I'll be locked in a tower
A dreary cold and time forgot Winter wonders the sky does dot Silver flakes of falling snow Rings above the ground below The darkened stones worn with time That bear the name that once was mine
Have you ever heard the story about the rose that grew from concrete The one that everyone thought its growth would be obsolete The one everyone thought would wither and die
Dear Gardner, Water swam along my leaves, Rays of Sun like scorching flames shined on me, You placed me by your favorite window,
I want life to become The fire red rose gleaming in my eyes   Awaiting my strength & courage to reach out and touch it.   I don't know what it is, I feel in my heart
Merry Christmas my sweet. I’ve written you a few poems, but the list will grow, for how can one not share this intense sensation burning inside when it’s brighter than anything else?
You know what I see? I can see a beautiful, invincible, perfect, radiant, sweet princess. Why can’t you see? It’s right there, quite plainly. You just need to open your eyes.
I’m so glad I found you Do you know why we found each other? It was destiny Long ago When we were still stars We touched Gently and lovingly And we were separated
Nobody dares travel these rough and rarely tread roads, but I follow them because I know where they lead. Deep in a forest overgrown with trees shrouded in darkness with rocks all about, but can you see?
Rose, a lively rose. My life is like a red rose, Each petal is a special part, Making up a picture. Every petal that falls is something that cannot be forgoten. Every few years a petal is lost.
Rose so sweet. Rose so fine. Rose of Death be mine.
“What a beautiful rose” I whisper to nobody and grab the stem with my bare hands. The thorns dig into my skin. Red scarlet love drips to the ground. I squeeze harder, smelling the sweet flowery scent.
Do you ever Stop To think of the characteristics In a red rose flower?   Beautiful Palette of reds Silk Petals Positive phototaxis To the wondrous scent.  
When the pencil shade is lighter an the sun glares brighter I find myself struggling with prose  yet the world turns cold  and soon my verses will grow old I must always have my blue rose  
At first, I thought I was born to do this. It took a while to realize that mole was not, in fact, just a mole.
“I love you,” she said, as the last petal Floated to the ground.   But those three words Weren’t murmured in time. In time… To save the beast. To save the servants. To help anyone.
Where is the rose, with petals so delicate, That they might fall, if my fingers brush them? ,
Once upon a time, there was a bird who spoke of love My nightingale believed in love, this magic she spoke of Knowledge and philosophy is my true power
The queen did love red, and so red she wore. There was red in her kitchen, her bathroom, the floor.   She prized her red glasses she always kept close, for they made what she saw
She could have asked for anything: Diamonds,Dresses,Dainty Delicacies. But she knew None of those things mattered.She had all she needed:A father's love,A mother's memory,Her beloved books. But there was one thing she wanted,Something so fleeting,
i may as well be a dead roseno one dares to water or revive just to throw out with this weeks disasters and garbage my thorns are fighting those who try to stop me but they aren't strong enough to keep me alive. they may protect me but they can ne
They named me weed For living on this hill I blew in as a seed, Amongst the lilies, Dandelions and daffodils.   For the same sun I stretch
just breath,  don't suffocate  let the amber rose  cover the cell let the night  speak to you, to your soul let me breath  you in, I'll show  you art, her  tips are orchid 
You keep your head down,from having no friends.Or that's what other people tell you.Since everything you touch turns black and grey,No one ever confronts you. But there's still hope,One day you will find someone that cannever turn on you.Like the
Oh Rose of the Battlefield Your innocence is seen a victimization The demons belittle you "God loves all" The scripture might say this But you feel like you've been curse since genesis Oh Rose of the Battlefield
Her lips, sweet wet lips, hundred roses in their burst, can't with them compete. #haiku
I remember long ago when when every summer day you would give me a yellow rose before we played I remember long ago when fall was on the rise you would come to school, with dew drops on your eyes
Thorns reside on a crown where roses once grew Spiraling outward towards the heavens with the arrival of spring It’s winter now. What was once a fiery bush of life
To dam water that flows to a withering rose is a sin.   To release a flood to a drenched shrub is a sin.   For both will die whether wet or dry.   Though the mystery
White as snow, The beautiful rose. So fragile its petal, Hiding the thorns. The thorns that it hates, For it ruins its beauty. It ruins its purity. Among the red roses She belongs not.
There once was a rose made out of concrete  Becuase concrete is where it grows  Its petals frozen solid  By the ice, the wind, and snow  Though it is beautiful on the outside  Its true colors will never show 
I’m the ugly brambly bush I sit in the dead field With all the dead grass I’m surrounded by weeds And no gardener dare tend me  
Abigail Rose blooms as she strides along- Her efflorescence is in lush language. When she spake, emeralds fall from her tongue- King Midas admires the foliage.
I am Rose I am the light that brightens the day I am the one who lives in a backyard I am the one who is in need of care and love I am the one that's very sensitive  I am Rose 
Love isn’t a rose
Red rose:Simple and yet majesticRestricted inside her gardenHer mother made sure she's protectedBeautiful yet deceptiveEntice you with her visualsThen prick you when you neglect
Like a dark rose In the center Of the universe He blooms. A fire, So rare, Only he Could ignite it. I am sincerely, Truly Captivated by The sight of him.
christ chose to lift her at this time, "To die is better than to live," is written in the Book of Life.
Why do we give a rose? A rose cannot feel
You have had too much hope Inside your soul And when you wake up With blood streaming down Your legs And tears Falling down your face The first person you want to curl into
What does it mean to see a rose growing Strong in the garden  Radiating with such potential It means Confidence a word so overlooked yet, holds much more Meaning.  
they don't see the darkness hugging you in an icy embrace they see warmth radiating onto your lashes onto your skin some even comes from your heart within and maybe just maybe
The irony of cold Yet leaves still grow  The eyes in the sky keep on starring deeply into your signs What more can it be? Yet thy truthful growth of oneself turns away  
Everyday he gave me a different colored rose-
My love for Rose is so great,
As you stem your arm up to my face,
Dedicated to a dear friend named Sandra Hong, whose life was tragically lost and taken away from us too soon in October 2013.
I'm sure most of us are familiar with the term 'Ladies First'. Eve took some and ate, ladies first huh?
To think such beauty could emerge from the dirt To think she could withstand being tread upon To endure the mental and physical hurt   No, this is not the treatment she chose To be treated like a weed 
Yield not sincere vulnerability Like the thorns on a rose doth separate Underneath lies thine past adversity Still the petals will fall for ‘tis their fate And expose the beautiful irony,
The trail of  your fingertips have been embedded onto my skin.The scent o
To question my sexuality To question everything that I once knew That I was remotely sure about  That's hard  For Her though  thats has to be the easiest choice I could make
To question my sexuality To question everything that I once knew That I was remotely sure about  That's hard  For Her though  thats has to be the easiest choice I could make
Heart beats extra two beats  every time I see her face, She a goddess, Not just being moddest, Mouth drops fifteen inches even when I'm fifteen inches away
Vernal and cheerless, juvenile and morose, thrown into the world,  a beautiful black rose.
My dearest Katherine The true love of my life Nothing could make me more happy Than if you would be my wife Sweet and innocent like a dove You are so very cute The one I can't help but love
When I gaze into your eyes I wonder what I will see So very innocent and shy A wonderful person you shall be You are not quite there yet Of this, you surely know Soft and delicate as you are
It's hard to gather rosebuds with a dreadful fear of thorns;It's hard to share one's fondness with a fear of lover's scorn.So as one gathers rosebuds with a thick and rugged glove,
Crystalize the memory & synchronize your chemical scheme, as the city underground travels through the blood stream ..of the young, the rich the old and poor..and the faces of the familiar across the crooked corridoors.
There once was a rose Attactive and sweet She reached to pluck the fragrant bud Only to be pricked with it's thorns  
Even though you were my whole garden, I was merely a rose in yours   At first, I thought flowers were beautiful
Why must you make me suffer?  One error and I am faulty?   Why do you uproot my regret and prevent me from my blossom?  Even the most delicate rose has its thorns, and you still
What a beautiful rose you are! How I wish to pluck you so! But those thorns will just leave scars, A reminder of the painful woes.   My rose your scent is so sweet,
Once, I saw a white rose
She's stronger than a willow In a thunder storm Soft as a heart of gold
The day rose so gently that it was almost unnoticeable.
Oh beautiful Rose that grows within the wasteland I see,  Why oh why I wonder,  Have you choosen to grow beside me,  What serenity I see and ponder,  Makes me believe you've lost your way amongst the lower fodder, 
Once you gave me roses,
A rose growing in a field of dandelions I always knew you were special Your long petals extend above the dandelion quills Peeking out beyond the almost obsolete field
The Beauty means Love The Color of Blood For A Brilliant Bloom  The Deepset Red of All To Girls it's a Treasure  To Boys it Could be  Nether More Than Any other Bloom So the Beauty Means 
Forgive me for being completely  oblivious to your existence   Its just the short time we spent  together wasn't the most  memorable   True, your crimson flowers
My rose was a boy with a gypsy heart
The thorns curled around
rose scented tea wafting from the cup placed so gently on the maple table top porcelain pot and sloping sides of a gentry type delicate and prim the amber brown and tinted gold
A rose For you, my dear Not because you need one But because you deserve one Not from me From one less selfish than I I see you only as you pass I know you not Your brow is furrowed
The petals of a flower Glow softest red in hue, Below thorns pierce the hand. Blood is rosy too.
To one who darest contend mortal fate Woe are my grev’ous sins before the fire The screams of my vexed soul doth not abate Leaving me forever trapped in the mire  
What it is life but a rose? A simple flower, filled with beauty and a deep connection. A brilliant red, a vibrant white, a hue oh so bright. What is life, but a silly flower.
A rose is a delicate being. It foils at the touch of one finger. It has a radiant screening. It makes one want to linger. Is love like a rose? Should it be touched or messed upon? Love is on the tip of one's nose.
The light blurs out any sensation you sense Your clothes are stained, but you wait in suspense The picture frame is tilted agains the wall It never bothered me, for imperfetion is beauty after all
A suffering rose, abandoned there, on a lonely windowpane, not sparing a stare. Looks up at the sky, as a lost cause, nowhere to go, no place to pause. Weeping quietly,
    Dying White Rose A beautiful white rose with petals so bright. She clings to the ground hoping for life. She's short of air; She can not breathe;
This is my first time putting my stuff out there. Wrote this when i was 14- 15. thanks.       red rose, red rose, oh what, do you say? For alas and alack... He took my life away.
On the lofty, grassy hill I stand Facing toward the eastern dawning light Slowly rising, lighting the damp land Silence broken by the fowl of no flight
  On the lofty, grassy hill I stand Facing toward the eastern dawning light Slowly rising, lighting the damp land Silence broken by the fowl of no flight
  Tepid drops of water leak from the top Of a desolate deserted well Catching bits of sunlight as they trickle down. Amid the sands of grief at the bottom,
Young woman…you are a rose and no other flower. I am sick and tired of seeing dandelions in my garden,giving their seed to any wind that blows in the mist,
Love lost like rain in the summer gone to lands elsewhere. The land must survive without it, living off the fake rains of the garden hose.   Sweltering summer heat brings remembrance of spring,
                                                                        She is a rose                                                               Breathed on by the dawn
Truthfully she is a young rosebud, Still opening up to the world around her.
  A Rose Amongst Antlers   Born to a loving family in late May, The baby blossomed in laughter and play You’d notice he was edgy in spirit, but kind in heart
A brush of his plumps makes thy drown in thought. Savoring sweets off thy flesh though aren't dame. Melting in cold hands one's soul does not rot. Embracing, peering at movement in frame.
White rose, Do you ever tire of your beauty? I see all the other flowers, Bloom in jealousy. Frankly, it’s not your thorns I avoid, When you hug me.
A girl with a silent struggle Words caught in her throat Carefully blended in Edges too blurred Easily missed. Someone with a name But a name of no distinction. “What’s in a name?
I see a rose of color red, an ornament for the dead. It covers thy coffin and says what's unsaid. I see it lying on my grave, my tombstone of memories- full of happiness and rage.
Decimated by mother nature's lack of repentance, a pallid environment ensures, men wizened to the bone- their loved ones calling for their souls and becoming seemingly ethereal
There once was a rose. She was the most beautiful rose I've ever seen, But, one by one, her petals began to fall. The first one fell from lying to the world And lying to herself
Why is the rose so beautiful? In life and death. It glistens, frosted by the morning tears that gently fall away, to die? Or do they help start life down deep in the roots of thought.
I sit here contemplating my future. The unknown factors intensify my fear of defeat. Like an infant I scream through frustration of the lack of understanding of those around me. Not able to communicate. Not able to assist me. Helpless I am.
There's a garden Grown by the Devil's reapers And they plant souls Of all earth's little creatures They'll give you the peace You wouldn't find in any preacher
her garden flourished flowers of every kind in every color imaginable she took good care of her garden kept the weeds away never let any thorns grow
It's like a rose blossoming in my chest, Sometimes the thorns hurt or keep me away But the caress of the petals on my skin still send electricity through my core, Only you could ever do that to me.
Subscribe to Rose