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Rose Mother Poems | Mother Poems About Rose

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

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Details | Narrative |

The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


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 | Rhyme |

Why the Rose Bled

Parents so proud Four sons they raised From the Highlands of Scotland In the pre-war days On their crofts they worked Morning till night Unknown to them then Of a future fight The Germans have invaded A country so free Poland was taken The world shaken visually Britain declares war As our men enlist To rid the enemy As the fighting shifts Europe's engulfed In a feverish war Many are dying To comprehend what for The four brothers Sign up to fight As a mother will pray Every night Campaigns they fight In these theatres of war Witnessing horrors Never seen before In their garden at home On the family crofts A bed of roses With petals so soft Then one day With a passing glance A pink rose dripping red In deathly stance Their mother turns To the gate she looks Telegram in hand From the postman she took With trembling hands She opens with care Upon reading the message In tear laden stare Their eldest son In Africa was lost As many many others Deaths global cost Every day As she passes the rose It's pink petals bloom Her tomorrow's fear grows .


Details | Acrostic |

THE WAR BRIDE

                               Yes, an English rose is magnificent for it possesses a regal 
                                lushness that opens the heart, but its true beauty- 
                                its deep seeded secret- is how well it thrives on foreign soils. 

                                                                                          ~Cyndi MacMillan~


   ________________________________________________________________


G allantly wooed, she became quite beguiled,
R evered soldier lost his heart, overseas.
A ir raids and firestorms, moments fragile, 
N ooks hid the young lovers, defiantly.

W hen he proposed, she turned, wept silently,
A nguished, behind black drapes* prayed a new bride,
S irens would scream, bombs made hellish banshees...
A nd the torment replayed each eventide.

C adence of passion mutes all noise hostile,
A dversity bonds, two soon would be three,
N ow far from his side, our rose was exiled*,
A t dawn left his red-eyed evacuee. 
D ivided, and yet love was mailed daily,
I solated by miles of vast countryside,
A fter a short time, their son came to be,
N ightly, his father touched pictures with pride.

W hile he defended her Beloved isle,
A nxiously, she boarded the Queen Mary*,
R ocking her scared boy, each gale was reviled . . .
 
B ut on Pier 21* he clapped, happy,
R ain veiled train* windows, homesick was she.
I t took two winters 'til she heard his stride,
D ear that December, Oh, sweet unity!
E vermore one, their love never died. 


   ____________________________________________________________



NOTES

*During WWII, Germany's bombing strategy of London, known as the Blitz, 
made it mandatory to draw black curtains at night to hide lights which were
 targetted by bombers. Children and pregnant women where evacuated from 
London to rural areas of England, where they stayed with host families. 
The Queen Mary was one of the more notable ships which carried war brides
 to Canada. War brides arrived at Pier 21 in Halifax, Nova Scotia before 
boarding trains, known as "Diaper Specials" The immigration of war
brides to Canada was known as 'Operation Daddy".

**By Cyndi MacMillan, For Constance’s "Write It Deep And Dramatic, Please " Contest. This poem is both acrostic and  3 (divided) Hutains.

***Dedicated to a true English Rose, Florence Gordon, my grandmother and a war bride.


Details | Rhyme |

A Red Rose for Mama

Her eyes of blue skies and skin of a pure pearl that shines so bright
And golden sunshine of hair that has her smile, always at heart.
In her dreams, a promise of tomorrow will bring much light,
And send a red rose for Mama, and a kiss to say "goodnight".

In times of sorrows, I am her second daughter, who wishes her best,
For she has left her footprint on my heart, words can never be less.
As I wouldn't trade another, thou' I have known her to be kind,
When prayers to God that will give her peace, and strength in mind.

For a better tomorrow, we all love Mama and keep her comfort with you,
May you always be encouraged, may you ever hold on too!
As God holds you in his arms and wraps you with his shield of trust,
And words alone is different, than a red rose for Mama, filled with lust!


Details | Rhyme |

A Rose with no Thorn

A Rose with No Thorn

In the Garden, the bouquet of life
There bloomed a rose whose beauty caught my eye
Incomparable is this rose’s design
Unlike the others, she is not the prickling kind

I know they say that every rose has its thorn
But here blooms the exception, of the spirit she is born
One of a kind, the rarest in form
For she is a rose with no thorn

Oh what a fragrance, so lovely and fair
A scent of sincerity sweeps through the air
A pristine beauty from the realms up above
For she is the flower primeval of love

And as I bask in her blossoms of compassion
I find I am fashioned by love that’s everlasting
And in my heart she’ll always be adorned
For she is a rose with no thorn

Though weeds, thorns and thistles have tried to choke her
The rain has wet her; the sun has even scorched her
But she’ll not wither, neither will she wilt
For she is rooted in the love that God has tilled

Amidst great turmoil, never to be foiled
Arrayed in glory that could never ever toil
One of a kind, yes the rarest in form
For she is a rose with no thorn



Copyright2008 by Kenneth J Thompson


Details | Ballade |

A Woman Like a Rose

The rose bud is small and the smell is so sweet
 And no other flower in the garden quite so unique

When the petals unfold it makes a beautiful rose
and  the fragrance of that flower fills the air 

Take the thorns from  that beautiful rose
and the beauty can no longer to be found

When the morning dew falls softly on  the rose
it's like a  tear on a woman's face when she cries

 And when a woman's pride  is  taken away
 like the rose her beauty is faded and gone

So never make a woman cry and men be very aware
her beauty may be hidden but the thorn is still  there


Details | Light Poetry |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.


Details | Rhyme |

The rose

A caterpillar ran along
my bedroom floor and rested there
my kitty cat mewed it a song 
and up it sent a yearning stare

I picked it up, the crawling thing 
all green and wobbly and naive
"my thorns beware because they sting"
I said and paused fearing he'd leave.

The kitty looked up from below
and shook my stem to make him fall
but he held fast and she lay low
then shivered as she heard me call:

"Darling," I said, "don't be so grim,
my rosy perfume is for you
as much as for your brother, dream,
                                              for cats and worms I'll be a rose
prickly and motherly and true."



Details | Free verse |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.


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