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Introspection Rose Poems | Introspection Poems About Rose

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

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Details | Sonnet | |

A Single Rose

For you, my love, I’ll be a single rose
of crimson hue, and velvet to the touch.
So warm in contrast to your fallen snows,
yet yearning for the thrill of winter's clutch.
Soft petals form a heart so firm and true,
unyielding to the tempest of your reign,
and though a cold wind nurtures doubt in you,
such purity of love I could not feign.

Dilemmas of the soul so keenly felt.
Bestow my love? or must it stay a dream?
for if I warmed your heart 'twould surely melt
and I would lose you to the flowing stream.

And so, my love, this single rose I’ll hide
and keep the love I feel for you inside.


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

A Blue Rose Sings

Upon a deep blue rose, a scented song,
so delicate of harmony and sweet;
a melody, whose strains of love replete
I mused upon. To whom could it belong?
To claim such ballad ought have felt so wrong,
but I could ne’er its memory delete;
each note an echo in my own heart’s beat,
alluring me to drift and sing along.

Though how I wish I’d never found the rose
whose music stirred a restlessness in me;
where love once blossomed only sorrow grows
from searching for a love that cannot be,
and timelessly a tear-blue river flows
through heartache’s vale to discontentment’s sea.


Details | Rhyme | |

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Every rose has its thorn,
Every person that's born
Is both thorny and sweet as perfume.
So are some when they grow,
As you likely may know,
Naught but thorns, or forever in bloom.

For the bush clad in thorns
The kind gardener mourns,
Yet he cares for them just like the rest;
But the roses that grow
He replants in a row
So the people that walk by are blessed.

If each deed that you do
In a rose garden grew,
Would your branches be roses or thorns?
Would you be on display
Or be hidden away
In the shade of the blackberry thorns?

Would you be but a shrub
That the passersby snub,
Or a rosebush admired by all?
Growing thorn after thorn
Will but heighten the scorn,
But a rosebud is lovely, tho' small.


Details | Free verse | |

Time Means Nothing When You Love

you can love 
in a just a single moment 
so deeply 
that the loss 
is felt for a lifetime 

it doesn't take time 
to form love's bond 
sometimes it is immediate 
a connection of heart and soul 
that defies logic or explanation

these thoughts crowd the mind 
as flowers she lays 
among her memories 
silently filling 
petals with tears 

for blue eyes now closed 
forever gleam brilliantly 
smiles given so eagerly
with tiny lips of kisses 
still hold her heart captive 

so she lays a white rose 
for every day 
that her little girl
blessed her with her presence 
and one red bleeding rose 
to represent the pain of her loss 

for even in the agony, 
the joy far outweighed the pain

time means nothing when you love 

the gift is to love at all...


Details | Free verse | |

Like A Folded Rose

I am incredibility inner today, like a folded rose, metaphorically speaking I am totally dwelling within . . . the world moving outside of me lost within my own reverie I have come to the art gallery where I can lose myself on the patio I am reading and writing the warm sun is caressing me the breeze stroking me silence embraces my body I am safe within my loneliness the world is far away Until . . . some people arrive, noisily clinking of forks and stench of food slurping noises . . . the stillness, peacefulness a thing of the past my refuge has been destroyed I want to run in my disgust Now, lost within the world of Old Masters I roam the corridors of the gallery, alone and I dwell within the folded rose . . . September 8, 2012 Free Verse


Details | Verse | |

Desert Rose

Pale crimson skies
Stretched beyond repair. 
Clouds as scarce as life
Above the desert’s lair. 

Upon the sarcous traces
Of the dusty morsels, 
Rain from a wispy heart
Like drunken yodels.

From the parched sands,
Palatable scents diffuse. 
It approaches, it taunts
The flesh cannot refuse.

The dead wind in its lullaby
Whispers vigorously to give in
The parched eagle shrieks
The rose is bloody from sin. 

Remember the thorny cacti 
Scorched by the wrath
Defence is no defense 
Pain lies on that path. 

The giver of verve
Gives not but mercy.
Famine fuels the force 
The desert is testy. 

The tunnels beneath the sand
Lead to worlds unknown
The edifice in the distance
Could it be a tombstone?


Details | Free verse | |

the rose

like a bee to nectar you rush
through the garden,
heading directly to the biggest red rose
in your path the tulip, vibrant and strong
in your haste for the beautiful rose,
you brush against the tulip, obliviously
knocking the fragrant petals to the ground  
you grab for the perfect rose cursing
to yourself as the barbs from the stem
cut into your ungloved hand
as you wipe the blood, from the vicious 
tear in your skin on your pants, you look down
at the dirt and on the tulip
now crushed under your boots


Details | Rhyme | |

Bittersweet Rose

Across the countryside and into the grassland pastures;
inhabits the battle fields that segregate a Peony Rose.
Such as the gentle beauty of the rose that threatens those,
who are drawn to the undisturbed meadows of the divine,
and become caught in the thorn barb and twisted twine.

Coveted by the splendor of our sight,
we horde the natural beauty as it is our given right.
The Peony Roses are captivated in our possessive might.
The beauty must defend or to shatter and remain in a vibrant tatter.

For each life is to begin in the epoch,
of uncertainty, fruitless, and in a perilous world of bitterness.
As for all the desires to be fulfilled in the end of the epoch;
seeking meaning and clarity as their souls,
reaching for sweet unity.  

In the courts,
man throws his mighty stick,
changing the rules, scheming a new trick.
See the weightless power of man
and the fear at hand that he brings.
In the churches,
the prayers of woman 
in a quiet peace,
for a faithful praying
as she sings.

A vicious world with beauty,
hiding as a flower.
Attraction to peril in fury,
as we deviate from a greater power.
Was it a Greater Being’s perfect mistake,
or a beautiful mistake by elements of chance?

In the birth of creativity,
allowing mistakes to creep in.
Seeking the perfect form in nature,
while there is no true formality.

Living with these two extremities,
of the hot desert summers days
and the cold arctic winter nights.
The Peony rose hiding away in the sun rays,
and sleeps under the distant star lights.

Vanity or our pride of youth,
we become prisoners of our own devise.
Dreaming of tomorrow as a given truth.
Selfish thoughts we never considered unwise,
we desire for the things we can never own.
We covet what we see
The beauty we can never be.
The danger of the rose.

The aggressions of a Man
and the tenderness of a Woman
can be read by the hardness of his hands
and the softness of her touch.
Is it the end of a gentle beauty of the rose,
To look at her pedals, smell her sent,
feel her touch,
and still be pained by his thorns in the stem?


Details | Ballad | |

Rose Hips Lady

Rose hips lady
Your field is ripe
Bury my torn body
In that rain-soaked night

Taste those sweet confessions
On your baby breath
Lift this wounded flag
Into your burning nest

Oh, yes, I will
I will

Rose hips lady
Your field is ripe
Bury my torn body
In that rain-soaked night

Tame the roaring tiger
Never lets you rest
Take my last reward 
From your moonlit breasts

Oh, yes, I will
I will

Daddy’s gone hunting 
He’s gone away
Daddy’s gone hunting
Won’t be back for days

Left you with a lover
Makes a shrine 
Of your skin

Left you with a lover
Takes you down
Roads of sin

Left you all alone 
Alone

And the knots cut deep
Through the musk and flesh
Of hot regret
And the love you need
It’s a shadow
Never lets you rest

You release the Beast
From a well that’s wet
You will confess
That the love you need
It’s a shadow
Never lets you rest

Rose hips lady
Aaaaaah......


Details | Light Poetry | |

Sophistication

Merlot wine
Kraft single slices
Dead roses not watered
Dead dreams unfulfilled


Details | Lyric | |

Winter Rose

        Beneath my mantle of pure white snow
	        I lay, a perfect rose
      My cloak of snow protects my beauty, 
        	My life and my essence 
	      As winter rages above me, 
    I am safe and warm, from my cloak of snow
	         I am preserved
         I will emerge into the sunlight
           Through the melting snow
    I will emerge into the warm moist dew
      The warm sunlight dries my petals
              My petals are perfect
	        My color is brilliant
          My stem is taught and straight
          My essence long and lingering
              I am a beauty of nature
    I am a symbol of love, beauty and caring
	       I am the Winter Rose


Details | Lyric | |

Garden Rose

Written August 21, 2013


There's a girl in the garden
She's messing with your rose bed
Plucking weeds out from your head
And watering the seeds in your bed

But where will she wander
When the roses are dead
Will she come back for more
When they turn back to red

She can run all alone
Write this story in stone
On concrete slabs
Of skin and bone


Details | I do not know? | |

1st world hypocrisy

We may have won the battle, but they never fought the war.

we are living in a rose tinted nation, 
Trying to live up to our own declarations.
Avoiding participation in our own rehabilitation.
Yet we still choose depression as our safety station.

We surround ourselve with distorted imagery.
Illusions and delusions of how we ought to be.
Fighting for democracy and unrealistic dreams of equality.
yet racism still a well known philosophy.

We place our goals just within our reach.
We use empty books to educate and teach.
We memorise our perfect speech, tick the box 'donate to aid relief'.
Yet obesity is our number one retreat.

We follow the rules on how to behave .
Make notes of what and to whom we gave.
Pray to god and you will be saved, for all our sins he did forgave.
yet a mortgage pays for the tombstone on our grave.

Our eyes have closed in this rose tinted nation.
As the economy rose we sacrificed our identification.
Lost our salvation in the walls of our self built concentration.
And we pity them with their lack of complication.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

One Single Rose



the crystal vase
just one red rose
an elegant pose
in natural grace


a simple thing
that red, red rose
yet the heart knows
what joy it brings…….





Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Tanka | |

---rose petals garden

rose petal's garden
thorns raking an open eye
trimmed bush barren bare
blood let the face of mourning---
sweet cherry of virgin light

Contest: Tanka me a Dream
Poet: Debbie Guzzi


Details | Rondeau | |

As Rose Petals Wither


As rose petals wither in the autumn of life, Days hasten in orbits, some dull, some are bold. my muse rises to hoist a setting sun hung in gold, gleaming light abiding as daughter, mother, and wife. Glorious blessings entrusted outshine loss and strife. Circling paths of heaven and earth, charms conjured unfold as rose petals wither. I hum a lighthearted song from an innocent time and soar higher than summer to tranquilly reminisce. Then, receive autumn with thankful heart, tho' spring I do miss. Warm days dash by, distant Christmas bells chime as rose petals wither. By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, July 22, 2012 for Nette Onclaud's RONDINE THE TRAFFIC OF LIFE Contest


Details | Free verse | |

a prime rose

The weakened soft thoughts lay humble 
within future coats 
a darkened past tracks scampered shines 
forth a morning of immortal moved elements 
it will bring away 
a prime love can't be replaced 
and thus it comes 
a very open hide light of it's first sight 
in pursued windows of no time 
sun anyway goes down and hot as hell 
by age 
gray visions,left behind in desire, 
revealed 
delicious empty shades of dawns 
filds or doors 
just dusk doors 
and spilled life only are 
these present words 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An OD Pen

That pen just lies there on the pale white blank pad page__no activity; that sorry pen has O D on something dangerous_passed out_hardly breathing..Come on pen sit up_here sip on this strong coffee..That's it click, look around, life is active, inviting_write it down..Come on now_here eat up of these grits and red-eyed gravy; now that is an eye opener..You've slept through the last rose of summer that was deep burgundy long stemmed on the bush.  You missed that lucious kiss under the pale pink rose  that on the trellis grows.  Winter is coming on, sober up, get busy for you missed the Hummingbird sip nectar from the Wild Petunia then fly away leaving hundreds of Yellow Butterflies to get intoxicated upon its blooms..So you say you are awake now..Here let me kiss you beautiful ink flowing 'pon the page!


I think my pen OD on chocolate though!!!

Sponsor: Joann Grisetti
Contest: Drunken Pen Round 2


Details | Free verse | |

Living in A Glass House

Meme-Shatter 


The volume of a certain something

does not by any means determine its levity over any given situation

or its brevity by relation


Once you strike a chord,

It's moment of breath

Shatters through it's glass-painted interstellar conquest


Where the fine line between an arrow and a target success

is evident in the lack of evidence

Which provides you, the Reader, better access to the verity in absence


You're an ancient old trick

but if I am watching, you'll have no where to rest your well-traveled head

But in my seductive grin


I am too an old trick

But I stand closest to the cauldron

Stirring green the ocean

To make way for that final moment

When the flame burns cold in the winter frozen solstice;

The waves come crashing to the coasts

Coming for my broken souls

With a gleaming smile for all their sorrows


Taking off into tomorrow

With a calmed, relieved breath

Reliving the scenes on an endless landscape

Now, in compassionate presence


Because after all,

Can't have nothing without 'how'

How: being everything that has ever been conceived of.

So, what have You left out?

You've become ignorant of your own shining features

Forgotten feathers from a bow

Lost your inner voice in the mirror glow

All along Zephyr without, you've lived as a pestilence to others and yourself...

And now, its time for show


Up close and personal

Bath in all the choices ever dreamed of; and burn with a rosy glow

Opened-close a shut case

Without remorse or concern or thirst,

Because all this, will soon be Unearthed


Details | Verse | |

That Rose And I

Though a lone rose in yonder bed
Blooms all alone in remoteness
Its regal grace reaches beyond
Its small cultivated confines.
Its blood-red petals capture
Sensuous eyes of passerby's;
Thoughts of love materialize
And some are stricken teary-eyed
By measured memories of love.
Then there are those aesthetic hearts
Who are dazzled by its beauty.
As for me, I assume that rose:
The empathy I have for it
I become its flowery soul.


Details | Sonnet | |

Hope Of Renewal

As the last rose petal falls swiftly down
The last of the great roses of summer
What a great summer that was lived_you known
Rose had much character an affirmer

Fall approaches with sure desolation
Only bare branches with prickly thorns left
Mocking Bird nest with nesting cessation
Protected by the Rose as in a  cleft

Used up_bare waiting for winter's cold breath
Not knowing what this winter chill will bring
As the petals flood onto the ground_death
Hope awaits but winter comes with its sting

Will the sap rise again coursing through vine
Revitalization __ one  bud sure sign


Details | Tetractys | |

Like A Rose

.
                                                     Heart
                                                    Opens
                                                Like a rose
                                             Gradually gives
                   Each kind word, gentle touch_heart's fragrance blooms
                       Love's precious scent lures_gives in return more
                                             Generous gifts
                                             Kindness grows
                                                Blossoms
                                                  Grace

Contest:Double Tetracty
Sponsor:Michael J. Falatico
From my inner soul....


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams

Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay

The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways 
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire 
She presses her finger on the thorn 
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede


Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | I do not know? | |

Session Of Out On The Porch

Heavy frost has touched the leaves and ground
Elephant Ears are frozen brown
Pears profusely lay upon the ground
Not turned into preserves or spice jam

Gourds are hanging green upon vines
That have died and turned brown
Signs of winter approach without a sound
Ginko still green even though frost coats it leaves

Holly stands tall with red berries in green
Crow still caws from post in woods 
Life goes on even if not understood 
The Running Rose hangs loaded with buds and blooms

When the sun warms the air will the Rose still bloom
Or will they all turn brown on their lovely face
And then fall to the ground 
No they were spared this round

Out on the cold, cold porch
To commune with nature and God
One more time for this time of praise
One more time for this time of peace


Details | Free verse | |

Life As A Rose

Where eyes can't see beyond the colors
Past pleasures of heart and mind
Not taking time to find what spirit
Lives inside, we too often find
Only velvet petals among the thorns
Smell sweet perfume where stinging things hide
How so it goes from day to day
Life as a rose
Finding strength to grow wild
Yet if protected in glass they will not last
Life unhappy
Simple, life can be like the wild rose
Free to find time to explore
Feeding on things that allow us to grow
Avoiding those that steal our joy
Those thorns among velvet petals
Stingers among perfume
Choose which to see
Which to leave be
Life happy

©Donna Jones









Details | Senryu | |

See the Rose


A world seen through eyes
of children and grandchildren
wakes our lost vision

Eyes tainted by life
see ideas in different lights
black and white now gray

Enlightening words
spewed from the mouth of mere babes
cause us to ponder

Ears tainted by life
hear darkness in spoken words
bonds of trust broken

Spoken words of truth
from the innocence of youth
often brings laughter

Embrace each new day
with eyes and ears of a child
give ode to the rose


Details | Free verse | |

A Withered Rose

A Withered Rose

Our love dear
is now but a
“Withered Rose.”

And I really
don’t know if
you care—I 
must suppose.

We once had a
most radiant love
full of wonder,
joy, beauty, passion.

And now it’s quite
hard to accept      
the reality
that all is ruined                       
and all is gone.

I sleep now dear
with utter despair
in a soulless torment 
that is unending
knowing our once
“Red-Rose Love”
is gone forever . . .

And in its place 
I have nothing
but an image of a
“Withered Rose Memory.” 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(April 30, 2015) (Accentual Meter)
                                                                                                                        
* This poem originally appeared in my new book 
with a release date of February 4, 2015


Details | Sonnet | |

Rev My Throttle

As last rose of summer opens wider
Night is drawing nigh, rose cutter in hand
The rose clipped in its best stage; placed in cider
Jar that was used up, cleaned_now it will stand

Jar of cider was enjoyed long ago
Remember that day on our honeymoon
You were so young with raven hair my beau
We found that road side stand that afternoon

Bought that jug of cider that was so cold
Refreshing after long ride around mountain
So eager for life that we would build_hold
Hold each other_life; wanting to obtain

I clip that rose_place in memory bottle
One memory revs my motor throttle