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Age Rose Poems | Age Poems About Rose

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

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Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Song Of The Seamen And Their Ship Called Mary Rose

Mary Rose, the mighty sailing sea vessel glided majestically across the waves 
She had robustly and bravely sailed the briny waves for many a night and day
With the ocean's heaving gusting squalls blowing off proud stern and mast
Sailing victorious and proud - her billowing white sails were cast
The calm, liquid waters of the sea flowed quietly purple for now-
Unaware of the coming storm that would beat furious against her bow 

Her alabaster sails whipped violent and furious in the oncoming storm
Impending doom was yelling its cries while the seamen went unwarned
Down below, inside their cabins the seamen peacefully slept
Wrapped in the secure watch that their gallant captain kept
The oceans black, boiling waves beat savage against starboard and port
As Captain Noe standing fearless - at first quake, did not the storm report

The old wooden beams of the Mary Rose began to restlessly moan and creak
While the blackened roaring, rolling waves beat furious against her feet
Her alabaster sails rose proud- beating mighty against wailing squalls and gusts
While deep inside the bow in bunks, the sleeping seamen thrust 

Suddenly...they heard the captain's distraught voice cry out 
When the seamen heard his voice -they heard fear without doubt
“Awake, all of ye’ ”,   Captain Noe forcefully roared
“Alive! Awake… all ye’ seaman come quickly up on board”!

The savage spirit of the sea reigned fierce with rage and fear
While the brave captain fought - loyal seaman brought up the rear
They courageously fought together - not silenced by the eye of death
As the sea raged violently against them with its brutal, menacing breath 

To save their mighty Mary Rose, they’d dip their very souls in blood 
Leaving themselves merciless against this drunken, mighty flood
With plank and bow standing fierce between them and their fate
The raging ocean’s fierce, blackened waves - the sea they could not hate

The morning brought the warming sun which rose broad above the waves
The winds had tamed their violent voice against captain and seaman brave
With unshakable courage and seaman’s wit not once were spirits broke
Each cheered his mate and captain strong as they fought with steady stroke
Their peril fought in days of danger and night filled with pain
Their manly courage did not wane - their fight was not in vain
For all the courageous seamen and their brave Captain Noe
Joined together in hand and spirit to save...their proud Mary Rose 




Details | Concrete | |

Garden Of Flowers

 Garden Of Flowers

Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn violet?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you set like the summer sun?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn pink?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you shower like the spring rain?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn yellow?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you fall like the autumn leaves?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn purple?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you freeze over with the winter breeze?

As the roses looked up
As the roses looked down
As the roses looked right 
As the roses looked left

They spoke with a gentle tongue, like a thousand whisper “As the seasons turn, so shall we. We’ll move with the wind, and stop with the thin air. Well be heated by the summer sun and frozen with the winter breeze”. 
So, said the roses from the garden of flowers.


Details | Rhyme | |

Red Roses

Their petals are falling as their colors change
It wasn’t this way before but is it strange?
These roses are dying in delicate sweet sorrow
Will their love shed too? Or will it see tomorrow?
Petals and love falling slow like soft snowflakes
A little change in season is all it takes,
But will these roses bloom again in a new morn?
Will their love come back to greatly adorn?

Will their beauty be gone forever once it fades away?
Or will it come back to make everything okay?
For what will the roses be worth if their beauty dies forever?
Will the image and value from them permanently sever?
Will the light in their eyes suddenly become dark?
As their splendor and significance steadily grow stark? 
Or will they rise like light at the beginning of dawn?
And be reborn more beautiful than a swan?



Details | Free verse | |

Two Hearts full of Love

I am a heart full of love
that shook the pilars that held her colussium up
her heart filled with sorrow,
I swing such fury toward her heart and soul
she cowards away from me,
in fear of falling in love and not knowing what is in black
and not searching what is in the light of pure white.

I am a heart full of love,
she runs and takes the long dirt road,
through the raging mountains of the quiet countryside,
as the meadows of lilacs slowly die when Spring comes,
the blooming of the rose,
like the blooming of my heart,
a blossom on a cherry tree fall and harbour in the wintertime.
I swing toward her, she falls in fear of wanting attention and love.
Lost in the midnight twilight,
the flaming torch guides her through the dark holes of meaningless souls.
and like a frightened hummingbird,
she flees away from the secrets of falling in love.

A heart full of love ready to love,
it is diffcult to feel and to show,
but as if a rose that blooms in Springtime
my love is ready to bloom.

Pettles lay along a darkened atmosphere
lit up only with four wax candles
a portrait of a woman hung over a mantel piece
in honour of my one true love.

As the twilight shine though my bedroom window,
I show a heart full of love,
to take and to hold for eternity.

And as she slowly moves forward,
she takes me home with her,
and opens her chest and shows me her heart
with a glass of red wine and charming cigarette.
She sheads tears of pain and sorrow on my broud shoulder,
I curise her hair, silk laced hair,
shining against the twilight and the moonlit sky.

My heart full of love,
so divine, so original
a one of a kind.

We make love in the midst of the twilight,
as my dream girl is now reality and my pain is no more,
her pain is no more.
Too show such love makes a man feel free
and his soul lighter.
She holds him there,
as the sun rises over the mountains.
The birds sing a tune of cheerfulness,
and they talk about everything beautiful and kind,
that is still left in this cruel and empty hearted world.

Romance and love shared
with a heart full of love,
smile and kiss upon smooth lips,
feel me against your tight body,
and love me till the morning
when Blue eyed Death is staring us in the face.
and we go with him,
and play a game of risk,
and together forever,
onto a diffrent world
we shall love each other forever,
for you and I both have a heart full of love.


Details | Romanticism | |

When I Look Into Her Eyes

Every time I'm feeling down, or feeling so blue
As if there's nothing I can do
My spirits always seem to rise
When I Look Into Her Eyes

I'm new at this, this game of love, but got no shame
Get excited when she calls my name
We're trying on love for the very first time
When I Look Into Her Eyes

Their beauty takes me to the depths of forever
Where we are so happy, and together
Oh how I'd love to just hold her tight, and never let go
Into Her Eyes, oh how they glow

Comforting and loving with passion to spare
Those two heavens with my world, I ache to share
I'm trying on a first love, a first love for size
When I Look Into Her Eyes

The fires of my love they're igniting 
And to our future her eyes are exciting
There's rose gardens and sunny skies
When I Look Into Her Eyes

Their love, with desire is burning
She's got my world upside down, and turning
Oh how the world stops, yet the time somehow flies
When I Look Into Her Eyes

But when I think about what will happen
I realize Into Her Eyes, how deep I am trapped in
Soon I will have to kiss her softly with the goodbyes
How long will I live without their beauty, how will I survive?


Details | Romanticism | |

Love needs Two Hearts

Love cannot bloom,
love cannot go on,
love cannot persue it dreams,
love cannot be what it is meant to be,
love cannot be where it is supposed to be,
if love doesn't have two hearts.

Love needs two hearts to be true,
Like water to a dried rose
makes it bloom in spring weather
with such glory and beauty.
Love cannot be true if one heart
doesn't love the other.
Care, trust, honesty and loyalty
in love it has no boundaries,
it has no color, it has no age,
like a fine wine or an aged whiskey
it grows better with time.
But love cannot fullfill without the other half.

If a woman loves man,
let her love him,
if you love me,
than love me, but if my heart is gone
and cannot be found in such relation with you
then I must halt, till my heart comes around.
If it never does show with the first light of morning,
then it wasn't meant to be with thee.
Come now, do not shed a tear for me,
a simple heathin, who cries havoc
when something doesn't go his way.
Do not cry, do not shed your one of a kind tears
for a souless man, for a heartless man like I,
but do not blame me,
if my heart cannot be found.

Love needs two hearts,
not one or the other can survive
without each other.
Love is patient, love is kind,
but with ever lover comes another.
And we will all fall in great and deep love,
be intoxicated with each other,
and our sweet kisses that God himself would shed a tear
for such beauty that still exisits.
Love needs two hearts,
you cannot have one, without the other.


Details | Rhyme royal | |

Dreams - An iota of Hope

A poem based on relationship…”A girl in her own dreams” 
wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare :)


DREAMS - An Iota of HOPE 

“Waked up 7 :00 am in the morning..
saw my beauteous dreams transforming..
ohh yeah..with a drowsiness yawning..
Suddenly I found myself refreshing.
Excitedly Gone near by emblazoned window..
Fearfully Viewed a gloomy shadow..
Suddenly he smiled at me through haze of smoke..
Like a fantastic sizzling coke..
Soothing music on its full swing ..
Like a glittering diamond in the ring..
He ought to give me red rose..
On his bended knees he bows..
He tickled on my pierced nose..
With which I got glaciatedly froze..
Like a tempting dark fantasy chocolate melting in the mouth..
We strongly decided and took a royalistic oath..
He Embraced his hand on my shoulders..
Which Got intact like file and folders…
Like the moon  shines in the sparkling night..
Enduringly felt to hug him so tight..
Dazzling  Eyes immersed  in each other..
Tuned together like a romantic lover..
Every nerve of  us conjoined together..
Because the love lasted forever..forever…

Suddenly a glimpse of sun came and shattered all my zestful dreams..
“”Ohhhh.. ohhhh No..Not again. Not again. No more illustrations. No one can dwell my heart like you. Please come back. No more dreams please..””

.
 Yep this feeling arised at once and will be still till our last breathe. Lasting forever. Just forever..
 We trapped in each other’s heart and now no one dare to break our love-life’s part.. Apart..

Love is the essence of life and it is measured not by the count of breathe we take..but by the moments we share together till our last breathe..



Wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog. Pagare


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 | Rhyme | |

The Swan

The peaceful, humble beauty 
of a white lily drifting on reflective night
hums a sweet melody 
of contrasting light.

Trusting the darkness 
to be his throne
and the moon of loneliness
to crown his soft, unheard moan.

I watch from bushes of scorn
that mock him cruelly.
His fragile crest is pierced by the thorn
of rejection and bleeds its sorrows silently.

The rejected jewels of nature are mourning
for the king of the skies to raise his wings
but he can't see beyond remembering
and can't see past the thorn's stings.

Oh, scarred heart of grace,
spread strenght and flee with wild freedom
unto priceless solace 
away from this desolate kingdom.

Oh, jewel in creation's crown,
look not to stirred reflection
for it is mere perversion, a frown,
of the white rose of perfection.

Go now, leave behind only
a legacy of despised beauty.


Details | Blank verse | |

The Sweet smell of a dead rose

A rose that is at full bloom
and the color is pure and the pettles are calm
and dance along with the blowing of the wind
they have a smell, that is divine,
but doesn't bring back no special memory.

Now a dead rose,
that has a smell
that has no definition
that has no pain
it is just there
and it doesn't cry
and it doesn't sigh
it just sits there,
burning away when the sun hits it,
without remorse
without blinding courage.

The dead rose just sits there,
and the smell is so sweet
it brings back memories
that make you cry
and sigh
and sometimes,
laugh
and
smile a little.

Sometimes the dead things
are more beautiful
than the living,

but that is just my opinion,

what do you think?


Details | Quatrain | |

The Rose Of Avalon


Across the ocean far away
Angeles looks to sea
For weeks she’s been expecting him 
her prayers an anxious plea

The winter season has arrived
an angry ocean roars
The other ships have come back home
and all securely moored

The only ship uncounted for 
the Rose Of Avalon
Angeles worries desperately
her faith she falls back on

Each day her hopes are dashed aside
the image disappears
There are no ships beyond the sun
her hopes give way to fears

An then an image reappears
A mast with all its sails
It is the Rose of Avalon
her guns begin to hail


Details | Free verse | |

My Love Intended

My love intended for the girl of my dreams,
she walks from side to side,
not knowing that I walk alone.

She is beautiful than any other thing in this simple world,
everything around her shakes and trembles
as she walks on by without a spare of a passing glance.

The wine is drunk
the last cigarette smoked,
the pain of heartache gone away.

It feels good to see her go my way,
to take the pain with her away from me,
as I sit in the wayward cafe on the river of ashes.

A beautiful girl she is mine,
but that course of life shall no surpass mine,
and my heart beats and takes me away
in hope of falling in love.

Irony of love and hate,
it is similar in many ways,
as I sit and think of her.

She angers me,
but when the vail of anger falls over my eyes,
the passion of love enters my mind.

Come now, take me away,
hold me in your beauty,
and love me with your gentle body.

Go into the gardens,
where the nightingales sing,
and sit at the patio's crossway.

Watch the artists paint pictures of the garden,
watch the writers write about the garden,
and watch us go and pick flowers in the garden.

The air smooth and wind breeze calms the nerves,
the pain of my sorrowed heart is soothed,
by her sweet intellegence and beauty.

Her eyes, orbs of blazing sunlight,
blind me with the beauty of her beauteous face,
her lips and skin smooth and pure.

She is glorious,
My love she is the dream girl,
who comes and takes my nightmares away from me.

As I sit on the park benches,
I light my last cigarette,
and reminicse on the days with my love.

I close my tired eyes only for a moment,
and the moment is gone,
my beauty is gone.

The tears are all gone,
the pain has gone,
the feelings of everlasting love are all gone.

Where did it all go?
Where did my beauty go?
Where did my love go?

All gone now, all gone now,
as I grow old,
the feeling of death takes me by surprise.

The park bench is cold,
the cigarette is burnt out,
I am longing for a drink.

I lay in a wayward cafe
drink a coffee and talk to myself
discussing a book of poetry.

Looking over to the right
I am blinded by beauty once again
this time this is no dream.

Alas, my dream girl came
that appeared in my sunny pleasure dome,
who has walked barefoot in the gardens of my mind.

She sat with me,
I looked at her
and we smiled together.

We held hands together,
and dreamed together,
forever and ever.

Love everlasting,
everything everlasting,
cigarettes smoked together.

A cloud over our heads
in the shape of a heart
my love.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Murder Of One Lead To Another

The Murder Of One Lead To Another


My death caused yours. I left without a fight like I had all those times before. Murder by my own self-indulgence. Looking how I had left you to your own devices, if I would had known that would be the cause of your death would I have been less self centered? Can you hear me singing to you as you slit your wrist and separate soul and body? Slowly slipping away as I sing the song of the 7 veils. I yearned for you, as you loved for me could we be the most perfect couple to die for selfish wish. What fools we are leaving this world just for a death we know nothing of. 
Stop! Return! Don’t leave me just yet! Are the words I hear as I return to living breathing state, I was returned back to this world? For you I could live on, for you I could die by your side, for you I would make you live forever with me. I was murder, you slit your wrist but in the moment of leaving this world we both was called back by the body we left behind. We came back hand and hand together to stay side by side. I was murder you slit your wrist, but in that last moment I came back for you and you came back for me. Did you see it our nearly over soul ready to be devoured and consumed by our greed? 
I was murder, as you slit your wrist. We tried to destroy our suffering and we nearly destroyed our bond. My death led to your death but in our final moment we were called back to this unforgivable world. Murder by self-indulgence, suicide of a broken heart, which was our ways out of this world. Thank you for calling me back.


Details | Sonnet | |

Hope is

Hope is.....

Hope is the torch which keeps darkness at bay
a solitary beacon to show us the way
Hope is the magic that greets the new day
and should be the last thing that we give away
Hope is the dream that will come tomorrow
not a simmering mask underneath your sorrow.
Hope is the sparkle when tears fill you eyes
strengthens hellos and softens goodbyes.
So add hope to all that you have planned
cos sometimes roses do grow on sand.......


Details | Bio | |

a rose grown on concrete

A rose grown on concrete

Behind these steel grill bars,
Admiring the heaven stars.
I remain that black rose,
Growing on concrete there I pose.
With petals shattered,
And my thirsty roots scattered.

With my stem rotting in strain,
12 months have gone there’s no rain.
 I absorb the slightest rays of light,
To keep me strong through the night.
With only hope tomorrow I’m alive,
But faith keeps me strong I will survive.

But if I should die,
Wipe your eyes don’t you “crie.”
Just bury me smiling,
As that black rose charming.
But whilst alive it will rain,
Out of these bars were there’s no pain.


Inspired by a moment of hurt and anger in prison (2008)


Details | Bio | |

a rose grown on concrete

A rose grown on concrete

Behind these steel grill bars,
Admiring the heaven stars.
I remain that black rose,
Growing on concrete there I pose.
With petals shattered,
And my thirsty roots scattered.

With my stem rotting in strain,
12 months have gone there’s no rain.
 I absorb the slightest rays of light,
To keep me strong through the night.
With only hope tomorrow I’m alive,
But faith keeps me strong I will survive.

But if I should die,
Wipe your eyes don’t you “crie.”
Just bury me smiling,
As that black rose charming.
But whilst alive it will rain,
Out of these bars were there’s no pain.


Inspired by a moment of hurt and anger in prison (2008)


Details | Free verse | |

Fighting Depression

Black Night! Black Thoughts!
merging into one
No sword shall sever this Gordian knot
that binds my being
in thoughts of longing and despair
My tortured soul cries out
filled with a longing 
to crush the things that torment me so
I see them with the mind's eye
and would strangle them 
but they recede into the shadows of night
to mock me anew in ripened time

But now let my soul be at rest
even for a fleeting moment
for I am free
Free!
The very sound is music to my ear
filling the mind with such fantasies
that leap to the heavens
and leaves me panting just alive
As a man who is spent
I rest
and waves of gentleness flood my soul

The thought of a tender kiss
the smell of a rose
Jove's nectar
soothes my being
and sets my soul at ease
to gather up courage
to face another day


Details | Quintain (English) | |

A Rose Unfolding

~~

Tears, quiet, dead, useless tears falling,
Sorrow from a deep chasm of endless grief;
And my soul and heart are always weeping,
Stealing my happiness, life, like a thief;
And I am left broken, drifting like a leaf.

O Lord, whisper courage for my journey,
It is a hard choice to leave the past behind;
I want to soar like a wild bird happy,
Like a rose unfolding her petals in time;
To ride the wave of life, to seek and to find.


______________________________
June 22, 2014

Quintain x2


Submitted to the contest, Hard Choices, sponsor, Dr. Ram Mehta

10th Place




Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Gentleman

On a cold misty morning an old man had some things to do but they could wait,
Taking his walking stick and dressing for a damp cold morning he began his day,
He stopped at his old florist every day and bought a flower he always sniffed it,
He was a a kind and loving man he walks on sticks his hair as grey as the day.

The shop next door a sweetshop and as always he ordered a packet of barley sugar,
Popping one in his mouth it was an orange spaceship and it took him back in time,
A time when all was good no worries or responsibilities a time never to be returned,
This gentleman had to hurry a little as he was running late the bus waited for him.

As he made this journey everyday we thought it might be interesting so we waited,
He got off the bus at its terminal stop the driver and conductor always shook hands,
As the old man wandered down the road there was the sharp tap from his old stick,
Then the tapping noise disappeared as he walked across some of the well cut grass.

The gentleman made his way to the town cemetery carefully walking round the graves,
He knelt down with the aid of his stick then planted his single rose on the grave,
There were hundred's of perished flowers all over his plot he stood up to go home.
We could hear the tapping of his stick again as he now walked on the concrete path.

The man in charge was sweeping leaves so we walked over to him and asked the story,
He was fighting in the war and spent thee years in these rat infested fighting fields,
He was in the Bangalor Torpedoes behind enemy lines right up to the end of fighting,
When he finally mad it back to England he was told his family died in the Blitz

Since all those years ago he has put a rose down on the plots and never missed a day,
His loved and dear family to him are always listening to his news and odds and ends,
There is something else that not many people are aware it's written on his own grave,
This sad very brave man held the Victoria Cross,when I pass the cemetery I lift my hat.


Details | I do not know? | |

Cupid Part 2

But there’s still his hands in the way… hovering over my eyes… Not allowing me to see what he sees. There’s all these thorns protecting that wild flower peeling in this isolated bush where I’ve poked my fingers a numerous amount of times..attempting to pursue the peeling but just as quickly regenerating flower. The petals may drop and I may be able to catch them …. but they always slip and bury themselves beneath the surface of the ground that engulfs the roots of this isolated bush.

And these seeking fingers would reach up for another piece of the flower… But they remember the thorns… So they pull back. And they linger… Waiting for the petals that make their way through the cluttered thorns that love their stem so much…that they refuse separation unless blood is drawn. The fingers that linger… Wanting to remember the silky texture once more before slipping away… Are unable to add any stability to that guarded flower…

They’re unable to cradle the flower that depends on that stem planted in the bush attached to the depths of the earth… These lingering fingers can’t hold on to the flower but they can catch it’s plummeting petals… For if only a moment… And as they slip through those fingers the hand reaches up for another… But the hand remembers the thorn… And pulls back once more… Then the fingers reach for another loose petal while the rest trickle beneath the earth away from the lingerers…

My eyes rest on the heavily guarded… barely visible… soft but crisp flower … And I wait for every fallen petal… That at some point slips between my unsettled hands. However, these wandering petals don’t fall often… No not at all… But when they do they may come in multitudes or one…

Even though I can’t hold onto them… I watch that flower and hold out my hand; just waiting for every petal from that flower I can hold before they slip between my fingers; making their way beneath the earth while I waited for the next petal to brush my hungry fingertips as they fell from that guarded rose.