Alliteration Rose Poems | Alliteration Poems About Rose
These Alliteration Rose poems are examples of Alliteration poems about Rose. These are the best examples of Alliteration Rose poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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The red rose may be beautiful or grand
Sensual even LOVELY. But still only a
THEN....I strolled the garden BLUE
I saw the INDIGO ROSE
The BLUEST I had ever seen
A TEASING picture of the
The blue ROSE is EXOTIC, she feeds
The WINSOME ROSE shame with
Professional precision on a petal plate
Of pleasing purity.
Shades of BRILLIANT blue FLASH ACROSS A MOVIE
SCREEN BLUE VIXEN SUPREME
She sends the entire garden into bland oblivion.
A blue diamond glimmering in a GOLDEN heaven.
All other roses WILT of envy clamoring at her
Heels with CONGESTED JEALOUSLY.
When I set eyes upon this ROSE it so inspired me
To see what had not been seen.
The INDIGO GARDEN and all its splendor
THE IMMEASURABLE SOUL OF THE
MAGNETIC practically hypnotizing
These are the INDIGO GARDEN guarded
Secrets I've been knowing
THE INDIGO WAY
ALWAYS THE INDIGO ROSE FOREVER
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015
The palest, pastel, roses with pink petals stood
Within a pretty porcelain vase of creamy white.
He proudly left them there for me, a pure delight...
Large and lovely, long-stemmed, leafy, lush...luxurious!
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: 4 Line Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
1st line - Anagram - (palest, pastel, petals)
2nd and 3rd line - Couplet
4th line - Alliteration
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
The red rose declines in the cruelty of time
gentle sunsets fade in the midst
from barely lonely skies,
silver streams die.
What of those days of sweet bliss
the tunes of a symphonic kiss
my soul miss,
and orbs of light are close
in search of emerald nights
the stalks of white ghosts
creeping softly upon shades of grey
the touch of deadly strokes.
Visions of slanted monsoons,
and flawless white pearl moons
hanging above the tides
those opalescent hues of fire.
Fall flaming chariots of deliverance
oceans a glint
in gloaming of earth's tint.
The mystery of the quiet still
shards of glass scattered
across the twilight atmosphere
diamond coated tears.
Sublime, jet stream geyzers
and star night gazers
infuse scientific minds
like eagles soar high.
The beautiful water lily flower,
the Japanese iris,
red bark cypress
there traced divine knowledge.
The minerals of the soil,
and treasures of spoil
the naked eye, though it be
finite will see.
Yet seasons come swiftly
Autumn, Summer, Fall, and Spring,
but still the red rose declines
in the cruelty of time.
Copyright © Phillip Knox | Year Posted 2012
Genes of motherland made her, black, tender of lips of praise.
Her kind hand, wise mind and loving heart never fails.
Like the rose of covers but bear, of unders, but there.
Though sterm is thorny, rosiness is clear.
There’s a Rose in my heart, rooted deeply via art
There’s a Rose in my heart, weeds rounding her I cut
There’s a Rose in my heart, alive I sense the tune of delight
There’s a Rose in my heart, peer in my soul and uncover my insight
There is a Rose in my heart, flawless of reality finally discovered
There is a Rose in my heart, balling my crystal this time I thee wed
There is a Rose in my heart, introspection I made sight of beauty I gained
There is a Rose in my heart, providential I became thorns of disaster I destroyed
A hell of toy once folded my well, and then the rose came by
And uncovered the dark, and I now once again have a well of joy
Oh! Sweet Rose stay, then forever stay
Oh! Dear God I pray for this sweet Rose I Pray
Copyright © Phindile Tukwayo | Year Posted 2008
I painted the pests of parasites onto my own petals, blossoms and buds.
Wilted and weak, I remained bleak from all the blackouts.
Nauseous from ignoring mother nature's nectar, my greens grayed and my reds rusted.
My roots writhed from the rancid rain that I consumed, while the lattice of my leaves languished.
Spinning, I was thinning since my poisoned petals plummeted like falling rain.
Birds, butterflies and bees fled from me as if I was a dying star.
As I began to catch fire from my destructive desire, my thorns turned inward tearing me like a tornado.
The shame of shallow flames showed me a song of my praying spirit.
Rasping and gasping, I briskly blotted out the booze.
Patiently, I pruned my pollution.
Now, a book of blooms where my leaves prosper as pages and my roses rise as words.
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2017