Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Rose Quatrain Poems | Quatrain Poems About Rose

These Rose Quatrain poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Rose. These are the best examples of Rose Quatrain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

123
Details | Quatrain |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.




November 25th, 2013


Details | Quatrain |

The Rose

Tis the rose that wants to live
That rails against the frost,
Tightly closed, the petals warm
The autumn heart that summer lost.

The dew that drips from rose to leaf
Like tears from cheek to breast,
Once was cold, now shimmers warm
To earn, at last, its' rest.

The blackened bud, once struck with cold
Appears to others dead,
But burns within, a passionate soul,
And heart of bright and crimson red.

And bursting forth it cannot hide
The will to live within,
Its' bold and subtle softness tells
Persistent hearts can win.

Craig Cornish
This quatrain poem was written twenty plus years ago and was inspired by a true frost bitten rose at a truly emotional time and its story and message is real and still lives.  I brought the rose in and put it in a vase and it opened to be a perfect rose and like the rose love did the same.



Details | Quatrain |

Ode to a rose on a sunset

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as the clouds dip into the sea.
A kiss from that rose as the waves fall,
over the beach to a rose kissed me.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as we wrap in lovers embrace.
A kiss from a rose as homeward we go,
to a bed clothed in satin and lace.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
with passion and warmth do we grasp.
A kiss from that rose that blossoms and blooms,
my hand in her labour pain clasp.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
that wanton and curvy young bride.
A kiss from that rose that huddles our babe,
so loving, in motherly pride.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
without whom I'd not share my life.
A kiss from that rose who selflessly filled,
the place of my darling rose wife!

(c) anaisanais - A M Docherty - Wales, United Kingdom. (7/8/2013)


Details | Quatrain |

The Shy Rose

Such a beautiful, blooming rose,
There is no reason to be shy,
So, why let your petals close,
When the sun is low in the sky.

Daisies and daffodils arrive in spring,
But, roses are rare, delicate flowers,
Brilliant sunsets are also amazing things,
So, why shy away in the midnight hours.

A rainbow of colors shine in daylight,
Pretty pink, sunny yellow, and rosy red,
But, don't be afraid of the night,
Don't go to sleep in your flower bed.

Look up, and behold the radiant moon,
Gaze at every shimmering, falling star,
The sun will be rising again, soon,
So, wait and see these beauties that are.

You do not experience any of this,
When you only awaken in early morn,
What celestial wonders you do miss,
But, every rose must have it's thorn.


Details | Quatrain |

By All of This - Ah, Wanton Bliss

That passion’s night, to make me sigh, my love seized several beams from sky and shaped a ring of moonstone bright. To make me sigh that passion’s night. My darling beau, to make me smile, then star-shine stole so he could style a necklace rare with diamond’s glow. To see me smile, my darling beau. Dear Valentine, to dazzle me, took whitest pearls from twilight’s sea, with starry strand to intertwine. To dazzle me, dear Valentine. My true love wooed with more than these, not only sight, but ear to please! Two birds he brought that softly cooed. With more than these, my true love wooed. With rose bouquet, with kisses sweet, he made my heart then faster beat. Artisan of romantic play - with kisses sweet, with rose bouquet. By all of this, in motion set was what I’d never known as yet. It burst, then flowed. . . Ah, wanton bliss, in motion set by all of this! (BTW, this is pure imagination, people!!! So don't be jealous!! hahaha This is a form called Swap Quatrain, PD. Happy Valentine's Day to you!!) For the Get your Valentine's Day poem in... any Valentine's poem will do.. (new or old) Poetry Contest of Poet Destroyer A


Details | Quatrain |

A Daydream

My fingertips lightly travel
down these worn piano keys,
the memories now unravel
as I hear your favorite melodies.

I reminisce within my writing
about a time that used to be,
when your arms were so inviting
and they would hold only me.

The quiet whispers on the breeze
the first kisses that were soft,
we sat underneath the willow trees,
as my heart then sailed aloft.

I can still smell the roses, red
their petals pressed upon the page,
where your old promises lie dead
they have not withered with age.

I am daydreaming of the past
when our love seemed to be true,
a relationship that will not last
but, back then we never knew.





Isaiah Zerbst's contest - "A Daydream"

Based on the painting. "A Daydream" by Sir Edward John Poynter


Details | Quatrain |

The Rose of Poetry

I see your work budding, like a flower each new day. Slowly blooming more and more, bringing color to a time that’s gray. Your colorful petals are amazing, the way you reflect the sun. And your beauty still remains, after the beauty of the day is done. For your work radiates, here on Poetry Soup. We are all poetic flowers; part of a big garden group. I am writing this poem, to the poetic flower you are. You glisten each new day, from way, way, afar. If life was a big garden, a flower you would be. With flourished poetic petals, named the Rose of Poetry. ______________________ For Belinda Parish a fellow souper for her supportive comments.


Details | Quatrain |

FREE CEE a rose arose




    Cherie-A ROSE AROSE

T’was once a rose, t’was once a weed
No thorns upon her stem decreed
The rose, for that weed, fulfilled his every need
A bud with nectar sweeter than any mead

Alas, the two had never met
One simple dahlia kept them apart
The weed was angry, the rose upset
That rose so sweet yet a weed too tart

But then sweetened was that weed one day 
While ignoring anything Mother Nature had to say 
Now two stand stoic together in a humble way
And are no longer frightened when the sky turns gray

That weed required no promise, nor vow
Only a day of peacefulness by the sea
At once took that rose a curtsied bow
And shared with each other honeysuckle tea

No union together for forever declared
Just a few daisy days to share and care
The two were simply platonic ally paired
United by the graciousness of a garden rare
© 2012…..free cee!


Details | Quatrain |

The rose that grew from concrete

Many a mind hurries past
the gripping splendour
in search of beauty, not to last,
while continuing in rejection of grandeur.

I look as the moments pass
at the wounded walkway.
The sand flows through the hourglass
and time conforms to seconds and seconds to day.

There, in the heart of pain,
at the crack of dawn
grows through the mundane,
purity, life’s mystery in an image drawn

Red bursts open in colours array
but expectation it defied
as time had not intended bloom ‘till the following day
and still nature’s scarlet tears are cried.

Dusk was meant to encompass
the brooding gem in the snows
but the bud unfolded in its stubbornness
and yet not its pedals froze.

I suppose the dark of night
and the bitterness of day
could not smite 
what would have its own way.

The bud grew beautifully in strength
and blossomed in wisdom,
knowledgeable in great length,
yet its leaves forbade a future grim.

Somehow it lacked endurance
and what blind humanity refused to meet
became the trampling of our innocence:
the rose that grew from concrete.


Details | Quatrain |

Be My Valentine

To call a rose by any other name
Could never do justice to you
To see you name there in the frame
Makes my heart go out to you…

A rose as fair, perfumed to perfection
The palest yellow petals that glow
Make my heart beat as though with infection
My temperature it raises so.

So Mystic lady I ask you this one time
If I were a boy, rich, strong and tall
Would you then be my valentine?
And we can leave now, and sod them all.

©  10/01/2013
 Entry for Mystic Roses' contest: Be my Valentine


123