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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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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? | |

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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | |

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 | 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 | 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 | 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


Details | Rhyme | |

Trailblazer

Allow me the autonomy
Of innovative spirit
Don’t undermine potential
My purpose, don’t inhibit

Don’t hinder my endeavors
Nor interrupt progression
Be mindful of my right
To meaningful expression

Don’t try to nail my wings
Unjustly to the floor
Don’t stifle my ambition
I earnestly implore

Through fiery determination
I’ll pursue my intuition
With acute awareness
I'll inspire new tradition

Though the odds be great
Against what I believe
Through blazing perseverance
The impossible I’ll achieve

Camille Rose Castillo 2011



Camille Rose Castillo 2011

In recognition of all those throughout history who relentlessly pursued their goals in spite of overwhelming academic, social or professional opposition and oppression. 





Details | Couplet | |

Fire Ball Red

The sun rose red like fireballs being played
Soon as it rose clouds enveloped to stay
Sand rippled the clouds became bleak and gray
Streaks of cobalt, gray and snow white today
But the doves did coo saying I love you
Roosters, crows, chirp rip chirp rip too
At one time magenta undercoated the clouds
Giving hope where non was allowed
The rippled effect like a clam's fine shell
Touched my heart with feelings so it swelled
Such a day to be blessed with life
Why would anyone want to destroy with a knife?
All at once stillness decended, peace, love
As one vulture the sky ascended
Tranquility upon porch surrounded
I could feel its presence my heart astounded
One lone vulture returned in flight
Looking for food or just for fun_delight
The dove coos once again nesting instinct
Has settled upon him
Peace, love, joy am filled
Thank you God for my time being still___


Details | Rhyme | |

Strengthened By Death

My father`s demise , made me strong,
Faced real hardship,which is not wrong,
Being like a fearless bear,
I soared to great heights before long,
My fame spreads its wings through the throng,
Death did not make me bare.




Using Quote 1:from Jalaluddin Rumi(1207-1273)
When the rose dies it falls open,spreading perfume.You will become
a window for every house .You will be a rose garden in every field.

Olusegun Arowolo
Contest:`RUMI IN RIME COUEE `By Nette Onclaud


Details | Rhyme | |

The Rose's lover

Once upon a time, far upon a distant land,
Was a field so beautiful, it would take your breath away.
For, for acres and acres out tulips fanned.
A beautiful reflection of the sun's bright yellow.
 
But in the midst of the baskets of the sun,
A tiny red bud popped its head,
It grew unnoticed, seen by none.
But as she blossomed, things started to turn around.
 
For among the yellow tulips, the rose was a novelty,
A sight that every passer-by would stop to acknowledge,
To appreciate the possibility, the rose's color, her beauty.
And the tulips' monotonous color only enhanced hers.
 
But even as she was constantly valued and admired,
Even as the whole world seemed to love her,
The only thing that her heart truly desired,
Was the soft caress of the dew drops from heaven.
 
Because you see, under the tulips so towering,
The little rose only had a small window to the skies.
She only watched as the tulips danced in the rain glowing.
Her heart ached for when a tiny drop would fall upon her too.
 
Among her many admirers, one started to visit frequently,
A young man, lean and handsome was enchanted by her.
He would gaze at her and at times stroke her gently,
For he was enraptured by her beauty and fragility.
 
He would sing songs, write poems about her,
And soon the tulips cleared a path for him,
From the edge of the field to his pearl.
But soon the rose was nearing her end.
 
She knew it and despaired, for she never lived her dream,
Even as she revelled in her admirer's love and affection,
She would never get that chance, it did seem,
For she was losing her petals one by one.
 
The last day arrived and she held onto her last.
He was there by her side looking melancholy,
Remembering her vibrant days, visualising the contrast.
Afraid to touch her, he sat by her side.
 
He couldn't help it as a tear slipped out,
But the little drop landed straight on her only petal,
Her heart lifted and her soul soared, for she had no doubt,
That the dew hugging her was more special than any from the sky.
 
In that fleeting moment she felt truly at peace,
She had realized the true meaning of love,
And so the last petal she did release,
To move onto her eternal ever after.
 
- Miliya Parveen


Details | Sonnet | |

Rose That On Trellis Grows

Ya'll remember Rose that on trellis grows
How lovely, her pale pink blossoms in spring
She now has a few dead stems that show
Also some rapid growth, frame overfilling

She needed to be pruned there was no choice
It was painful process, for vinedresser
Hurting to core, in this job didn't rejoice
How it hurt Rose, dripping wounds no lesser

Why did he prune Rose this day _severely
Taking away the newly acquired green
May not know fully answer or reason clearly
Until ages past then old answers seen

He prunes us, cutting away the dead parts
Cuts new growth going in wrong way of the heart_


Details | Free verse | |

Sweet loves confussion

Blue eye's looked into the night
A tear formed at the corner of his heart
A silent tear
A silent scar
 
A golden rose forever blue
golden virtue lost tonight
A silent though
past moments true

The rose sweet silent thorns
The scars sweet silent storms
Taste the power of thy love
Risk the violence of thy strife

Trust the broken heart of rage
Suffer then your silent cage
Blue eyes looked into the night
forgive that you might start again
 
The rose of love is still the same
A stranger to lifes guessing game
Should thee stay or should thee go
The thorns of love won't let you know

My heart knows pain, mistakes
Should I become the master of my lake
Should I test the rivers of the free
Love binds my life to thee

Sweet rose my heart
sweet love my life
pray that we can find the key
Improve our lives for thee and me

Yes transgressions, we have know
mistakes, bad seeds, have planted grown
The pain has torn us limb from limb
Now we must climb above our sins

Yet change the light of night time blue
build with trust the love we knew
relax the anger, fear let go
trust we'll find the way to grow


Details | Free verse | |

Pale Delicate Rose

The pale delicate rose that he held in his strong hands
No longer is new on the vine holding a slight pink blush.
The rose's petal have begun to lose their moisture, wrinkle, droop soon to fall away. 

This rose so elegant, graceful, drapes the trellis with beauty.
It was the strongest in its spring but summer's heat beat it down.

Then in the fall of its life new growth appeared. An octopus with many arms grew
in all directions.

Now winter with its cold, frost, and possible snow are just around the corner..

What will happen to this delicate rose? Will it survive the winter? Will it come back with new growth and be stronger?..The question waits to be answered..


Details | Free verse | |

Rose Patch Hands

Shall I plant a rose patch to explain your scars
So the world may never know how you treat your beauty?

Shall I hide the blades that oblige your compulsion
To shave away the flesh that burdens you so?

Shall I distract you with gold and glitter
And pull your eyes away from those scarlet stains?
 
Shall I bind you with thornless rose stems
If not for pleasure, then for a moment of peace?

Shall I pull down my plaques and papers
So that I might trade them for your undivided affection?

Shall I salve in scripture and pray to the wind
That this apparent affliction may wander from you?

Shall I mire in melancholia, and exchange my hope
As a sacrificial lamb to ransom your amour-propre? 

Shall I remove myself so that I may no longer prod
Your beauty to suffer the lies that only your eyes see in the mirror?

Shall I plant a rose patch to explain your scars
So the world may never know how you treat your beauty?


Details | Lyric | |

I Remember the Rose

For most, a rose is romance.
A rose is the passion within -
The forgiving flower.
The tenderness that is, pure love.
But not to me.
A rose to me is sadness,
It’s essence and it’s scent,  
I recall a painful memory -
A lonely reminder of a woman,
I never got to meet.
It’s velvet beauty surrounded her,
So pale and still she lay
My grandma.
I recall my father’s face;
The first time I ever seen him cry.
On his knees by his mother -
At her coffin.
So when I smell a rose’s love,
In retrospect, I think I understand
The beauty and the essence it demands.
For it was the rose that I remember -
and I think about her quiet face,
My Nana, 
the gentle rose
The woman that brought my father
to his knees.


Details | Pantoum | |

Last Rosebud of Summer

Small burgundy rose bud
Surely the last rose of summer
Very tightly bound like a stud
You've graced my day, an affirmer

Surely the last rose of summer
Winter will come bringing cold
You've graced my day, an affirmer
That my existence should be bold

Surely the last rose of summer
Very tightly bound like a stud
Winter will come bringing cold
Small burgundy rose bud


(Stud here means like a stud on clothes that is an ornanment)


Details | List | |

(ye-no-be

a rose 
a rose 
had bloomed in my presence
is it love 
is it love 
my nose 
smell your perfume
what beautiful 
essences 
i'm told 
i'm told 
that your love is  a present
like christmas
i get butterflies 
thinking about opening 
you should i expect the 
unexpected
i believe with you
my heart is resurrected


Details | Free verse | |

To Endure a Thorn

Life is garden full of various fauna.
 
There will be brush that appeals to the touch and other vegetation that appeal to the other senses.
 
You will find flowers with the most intoxicating of fragrances. Witness flowers with the most beautiful of petals.
You will hear the buds come to blossom. Here you will taste the most exotic and comforting of nectars.
 
But the rose you seek will have the most thorns. 
This rose is called joy.
But to hold this rose means one must endure its thorns.
 
We must ignite the passion that can melt away the pain and rekindle the flame so it’s warmth can dry our eyes and rid us  of all our previous shame.
 
We do this all to hold a rose, spend restless nights , shed tears, feel scorned,
....all to endure a touch of a thorn.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Vase

When just a child so young
I saw it in your home
The very beautiful vase
That sat on a shelf alone

A vase of glass cut so fine
It held a single rose divine
Admiring it from afar
At home we only had a jar

Our furnishing were simple
In our home there was no plan
It was not designed by a master
We did the best that we could demand

How could I ever imagine
A vase just so refine
You would put in my trousseau
So I could have a rose divine


Details | I do not know? | |

White Rose

A White Rose grows in a bed of weeds,
Spawning bad intentions and evil deeds
Suffocated and soon invaded,
This rose knows what it needs,

For no one thinks a White Rose,
--So pure and serene,
No one thought it did--but it knows what it needs,

A Red Rose sprouts through the cruel concrete,
Stubbornly walking without having feet,
Ironic it seems, holding to it's dreams,
This rose learned how to breathe,

For no one thinks a Red Rose,
--So simple and ordinary,
No one thought it could--but it learned how to breathe,

A Black Rose bloomed in the dark of the night,
Unsung and labeled as an ugly sight,
Neglected and still, solid it's will,
The rose knows how to fight,

For no one thinks a Black Rose,
--So shadowed and wicked,
No one knew it would--but it still bleeds red.


Details | Free verse | |

Winter Rose

I planted a winter rose , and cultivated the symbol of love. For these roses are 
purely just,
 for these roses are more than any I suppose.
 My winter rose is but summer filled.
 with moonlit walks and passion thrills.
 For I am partial to song and dance.
 Clearly guided by cherubs bringing romance.
 For rose is my color and song, and rose is my lovers thong. Wrapping her in 
thorns so sweet, 
pricking her toes and binding her feet.
 Rose was and is the flower of love,
 blooming bright in its splendor.
 what else can I ask for?


Details | Free verse | |

Contradiction And Reflection

Contradition And Reflection 
Contradiction and Reflection 
Nothing can compare to love there is no way to word the thing the love although 
poetry comes close. A rose has thorns and colors and smells while a violet has 
odors' and eye sniff a perfume a smell not unkind but hard to describe like unto a 
mothers love like unto a poets pencil working to make the message seem like 
love to seem like the only thing the most obvious thing without false hope. Every 
song that calls itself a love song sings of some strange sickness some sort of 
illness as the words make a melody and everybody listens as the crooner sings 
this a bit off key ___---“eye could not get to sleep at all last night”---___ and the 
electric organ and the guitar man make everything sound all right again. Love 
can make me sick can make me hurt can make me yearn but that's okay that is 
the way of love. When she says yes is when it makes me strong and the 
sickness is at rest and the love has won. Ewe aer a violet rose no thorn in me. 


Details | Lyric | |

The Rose

A seed fell out from the tomb
The flowers died, the seed should die too
But rising sun outlasts the night
As raindrops spill, as the seed learns to fight

A playful leaf, silhouette in the sky
The rose now born decides that it likes
But how to reach when trapped in this form?
And now the rose is lost in a storm

The sunlight draws the rose from its bed
The rose just stares, too lost in what’s said
More rain will come, more dark will rise
More light will come, then more rain to despise

Nothing now but whispers and time
The gentle wind, the lonely inside
The rose just waits to feel it belongs
As gentle winds begin with their songs

Complacent air, atonement for us
The rose has grown, the leaves it can touch
Now patient hope has finally come
And past the dead the rose feels the sun