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)
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2009
Through the hushed whisper of the breeze
Flowing through the majestic circling pine trees
I sense that I have stepped
Into a sacred hallowed space
A GARDEN OF ROSES
A heady perfume hits the senses
Euphoric, Exhilarating, Enticing, Ethereal comes to mind
Heaven sighs in a high frequency of vibrations
To whisk one away to never before felt heights
An Awe descends on me
It's as if time itself has frozen
A spiritual and mystical alignment
Encased In A Timeless Capsule Of Love
Reserved for the weary of heart perhaps?
Roses from all nations scintillate in complete harmony
Where no negative emotion except love
ANGELS SING FROM ABOVE
And I feel it deep in my pores
I see it in the mother who lifts her child to smell a rose
I see the artist who strives to capture its beauty
In the frail old lady whose carer brings her wheel chair close to the Blooms
In the star crossed lovers
In the older couple who stare fascinated at the thorns on the stems
Perhaps contemplating their past journey
That is now in a blissful state of BLOOM
And I wonder to myself
Since roses from countries around the world
Can bloom in complete harmony
Why can’t we as humans do the same?
Dedicated to my Mum, whose love for roses shone through with her peaceful nature and her love for peace and harmony in the family. 'La Vie en Rose' was one of her favorite songs.
MAY ALL NATIONS LIVE IN PEACE
This poem Is Not about the 120 varieties of Roses represented by the best species from 120 different nations.
This poem Is Not about the beautiful hues from almost black red, to sanguine reds, pinks, orange, yellows, delicate Harlequin tri-colours of shades of red to cream or the unusual roses of blues and even almost indigos. All these pictures you can see on the net if you look up the Ryoseni Temple in Nara Osaka which we visited on our recent trip to Japan.
This poem Is Not about the hundreds and thousands of Rose blossoms encircled by a thousand pine trees.
This poem Is About the concept behind this Rose garden established in 1957 as a living prayer for Peace and Harmony among all nations, not long after WWII.
This poem Is About the tangible positive, peaceful energy that pervades these gardens. A gentle breath of wind is instrumental to the delicate petals scintillating in orchestration and releasing the beautiful fragrance throughout this massive Rose garden.
This is a garden that binds Nations together with Roses that are not only an international symbol of Peace, Romance and Love, but it is no coincidence that it is a species with the highest harmonic vibrational energy frequency of 320Mhz. A most beneficial and elevating energy to our wellbeing. (Humans have a frequency of 62Mhz to 68Mhz at full health).
Let’s bring back LOVE & HARMONY people - starting right HERE.
La Vie En Rose sung by Daniela Andrade
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017
Ah, sweet bonny flower face
That sits outside my door
Nodding in the eve time
Waking gently in the morn
Nothing so pretty as your pink-tipped petals
Nor as fragrant as you, my rose
Your very existence is poetry
Sprung up in a garden of prose
Ah, but my lacy lillies
Sigh enviously at your grace
And all my quiet pansies
Wish silently for your face
But only you are the queen of flowers
Beautiful now and forever more
You, sweet bonny flower face
Who sits outside my door.
Copyright © Anna Erickson | Year Posted 2012
Ode to a Desert Rose
Hiding in her desert place
There lives a desert rose
Not much water little rain
Yet on and on she goes...
Day to day she shows her face
To those who can not see
All her beauty hides the pain
And tears that set her free...
Still there's One who shed His grace
Upon this desert rose
Always with her shall remain
Because her heart He knows.
Copyright © Deborah Burch | Year Posted 2012
I watched it as it was born in the drenching rains of spring,
Cool condensation drops left over from winter's cold,
As it grew and grew and finally petaled
Into a white, but, quite young rose.
As a child of youth, it swayed in spring and summer
Breezes, winds and gales, heat and cold,
Its petals enlarged and its fragrance became
A daily delight to inhale whenever bumble bees had gone.
Maturing, it grew beautifully, along with its siblings,
Arrayed upon so many branches of its home, the rose bush tree,
And provided me a diversion by its beauty from my daily
Worries and concerns - and life's hustles and bustles.
But alas, summer could not sustain itself beyond its appointed time
And began fading into fall, that time of red, yellow, brown and golden leaves,
Browning and dying tall grasses, shortening daylights and cooling evenings,
Deep into this Indian summer, onward towards winter’s cold and snows.
It gradually lost a pedal here, a pedal there, a pedal every other day
And finally had but one white pedal left which I watched fall floatingly
Down upon browned and yellowed grasses dying, leaving but its sprig
Upon its home rose tree branch in September breezes.
It had lived. It was bloomed and went through its cycle of days and months,
Sunrises, sunsets, moon sets and moon rises of silver shines,
Folks admiring its beauty and inhaling its stirring fragrances, as I had done,
And in its time succumbed to natures laws of life and death.
If it did nothing else, such as make a great discovery, climb Mt. Everest,
Win Olympic gold medals, become pope in the Vatican, it did a greater thing
In reminding me life is short; we must enjoy it now – it will be gone tomorrow
- This last white rose of summer.
W.C.Hull © 2012-23-9-772 (D)
Copyright © W.C. Hull | Year Posted 2016
In many ways, you are immense,
Prevailing in your purpose,
Radiating all shades of Love’s perseverance
As mysteries unfurl
You are restful,
Peaceful, and undulating with a deep desire to teach
Heal, and inspire
You arouse the senses with your fragrances,
The spirits of old heeding along the waysides
The quiet, silent souls nodding in affirmation
“Resilient, meek, and elegant is she,
Giving and gallant in Love’s guiding wing!”
The mighty Lord smiles in agreement,
His beam lighting every shaded flower
For in truth, every precious petal of hers
Draws these hearts nearer
To the root of her works
To the splendor of her unique magic,
Towards Love and Grace
-this was inspired by Mystic Rose’s recent series regarding Love-
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016
Nothing compares to your beauty
Most noble flower in my garden
You bear no malice, having no thorns
To prick the finger
Of a blushing bride
You show us your beauty
In a delightful way
No wires to hold your bridal shape
This bouquet is how you were created
A delight to behold.
A delicate perfume
Do you emit
Subtle in its delight
So all who cast eyes on this beauty
Be enamoured by it's totality.
Penned April 6 2017
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2017
As I pull weeds from cracks in sidewalks
Yout sit on top of thrones made of solid gold
And I pay no mind to the women around me,
Only to your beauty do I hold an Ode.
I see my fair Spanish lady
my daring, sweet rose with thorns,
That run up and down her spine.
As she stops in the daily parade
Waving at the peasants,
She looks at me and summons her guards
Too take me away.
Her beauty is unbearable.
I cannot take not being with her
For a single moment in my life.
Black like coal,
Her smile is bright, as the first rays of the Red Sun
In the dawn.
Her lips painted with ruby lipstick,
her silk laced dress and shawl wrap around her,
Like a beautiful butterfly in her cocoon.
Her skin of olive, dark color and her green eyes.
My God, those sweet and piercing green eyes
Oh, how they hit my soul and make me shiver with excitment.
She is intoxicating and I am intoxicated in her beauty.
She is like an angel, a Latina beauty who walks the streets paved gold,
As I walk the cracked, cobblestone walkways.
She shines in the Spanish sun, like a dimoand in the ruff
As you blow the dust off her sweet brow,
she glows and sparkles with extordinary excellence.
She is beautiful and sweet and kind.
She loves me, but her father minds.
I am only a peasant, and she royalty.
Can our love ever be together in one holy matrimony?
I pray to the Lord, of all that is good,
Please give me a sign that she loves me.
Soon a storm came over,
blowing me down to the ground
And a cloud of dust swallowed me whole.
A great Conquistador on a great white stallion
pulled me up and told me that she wanted to see me.
I shacked with nervous of joy as I followed the warrior.
She was there, under a palm tree
Near a beautiful beach in Barcelona.
She smiled and a glow covered me with passion.
I hugged her and kissed her upon her sweet lips.
I tasted virginity and she tasted loyalty.
We both tasted beauty and harmony.
As the warrior left us,
We made love upon a vigin white sheet,
Soon covered with a flowing river of red.
She moaned with exticy and love was in the air.
The Ode to my sweet Spaniad, Mi Corazon!
We lay there in each others arms
Looking up at a clear night sky
The twilight glimmered ever so softly
And a shooting star blazed across the sky
I kissed her and she kissed me.
I whispered in her, "My love forever"
And she pushed me back upon the sheets
and we made sweet and ever lasting love again.
As we looked in each other's almond colored eyes.
I said to her, in a soft voice, Mi Corazon.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
This place is full of wonder, full of great sites
A walk in the blissful rays of colored lights
Take me by the hand and pleasure my sensory
Tickle my nose with the smell of your fragrancy
Your tranquility calms me to a state of awe
I could look at you for days and not find any flaw
Even though mistakes can be made
The site of you makes those mistakes fade
Have you ever wondered how your soul can wander?
Bump into each other from far beyond yonder?
Did you ever see the beauty in me?
Even at my worst could you really see?
A shadow of truth, which dwells within these walls
A Utopian garden of truth, which an empty voice calls
Delving in the interior I can only be amazed
By all of the pretty things about you; my feelings are raised
Mesmerized by your being; intellectual with insight
I know that together we will only burn bright
The empty yard is now filled with dreams
Covering the persistence of my piercing screams
A hollow body has been filled
A terrible angst has been killed
And my imagination has now been thrilled
So all we can do from here is build
Still yet, I wonder as I gaze into your radiant eyes
The twists and turns are for frequent surprise
As I get to know you further for who you are
You have given me reason to believe we are up to par
Driven in ways to get the chance to make you mine
I could not give you up, for which you are particularly devine
Within my limits, for I have chose
I confess that I want you, the alluring rose
In this garden which you appease
All of our sorrows will begin to seize
Love is a feeling, it can feel like rain
The drops can be refreshing, or bring lots of pain
I know with you we can be as one
Take a walk in this garden where we won't have to run
I will always remain with you, from dusk until dawn
Just imagine someone there for you, someone who will never be gone.
Written on July 6th, 2016 and posted on July 7th, 2016.
By: Michelle Corbin
Copyright © Michelle Corbin | Year Posted 2016
The horn blew as the wind picked the same moment
The note carried over the field and picking up speed
All memories of him drifted away as the bugle went silent
But she remained until the last rose
Later she would remember his last words
He had told her he would never forget her
And like the last star that goes where stars go
She went there as well
She went to that last rose and was comforted
She could feel his hands
She could smell his scent
And she saw the uniform and the horn
They met when he returned from the war and he had limped
He limped with warmth and with no complaint
They had one son but he did one too many bags
He carried his bags up his arm
And there was no bugle or wind
But there were roses and tears
They got through it with love and his limp
They sat on the porch rocking and remembered
Until his limp grew slower and the horn played
But the rose ...............
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
A Letter To Rose
I know that you have questions and have missed me as much as I am missing you. I do not like excuses, but there really is a good reason for my infrequent visits. Of course there are others, like Tulip and Lillie to whom I must give my attention;but you know that I treasure and favor you above all other flowers in my garden.
I know that this summer has been very hard on you, but there’s nothing I can do. As you know, we have been in a drought for the past three years and counting. My once green lawn that must now tolerate brown, is longing for more water; but the authorities require that we water lawns and gardens only twice a week.
I know how you must feel, and I am so sorry to have to treat you this way.
I feel your pain, and it makes me so sad inside. It makes me cry that your external beauty no longer shows; but yet, I love you no less, because your true beauty is deeper than the sea. In a little while, you will blossom again for me.
It hurts me that I can’t smell your sweet fragrance nor feast on your loveliness. Your beautiful colors of red, white, and purple, no longer embrace my front yard; nor do they grace my living room.
However, the weather people are predicting a wet winter that could improve things! I hope so, because I will cut back your branches, allowing you to grow new ones. And come late Winter and early Spring, you will burst force in splendor and elegance.
11072015 PS Contest, Ode To Flower (s), Hamilton;( PS Contest, Second Chance, by Broken Wings")
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015
Life is delicate like
a rose on a cool fall
morning then without
warning life is taken away.
I cry not for the rose who's
petals lay scattered at me feet
but for everything else that has
I cry for the leaves who's leaves crush
like power in my hand and for the flowers
which droop and sag...
A mother who left this world too
soon and for her pain in till death finely
The world is a lot different place
with you gone... But a son has to
move on he can't keep thinking
He can't keep being sad and blue
don't worry I'll always love you... I'll never
forget the love we shared and how much
you cared... I love you
Copyright © Anthony Nacke | Year Posted 2005
Sweet rose,my eyes do not believe
the vision that they now perceive,
Around the corner I did come,
along the path, toward my home,
When, looking up, I met a sight,
that filled my heart with pure delight,
Your beauty caught me in it's grasp,
now, I can only look and gasp,
For you were created, oh, loveliest flower,
within mother nature's most finest hour!.
Copyright © June Fone | Year Posted 2010
Your sweet allure seduces butterflies in flight
Thy beauty charms the dew of dawn
Your fragrance is such sweet delight
To your bouquet lovers are drawn
With each color that adorns you
Your beauty remains unmatched
Each color has a meaning too;
Purity, if adorned in white
You bestow friendship with yellow hues
Joy thrives in petals pink
In any hue your beauty never shrinks
Red bouquet means love is true
Love by any other name, is you
Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2017
They say we tend to like things more that we can easily relate to,
and this is my first time celebrating Valentines Day with a girl and we're both introverted so one could say there will be no need for a take two,
and no amount of money spent could ever be worth more than the time I've spent with you,
you're my other half always looking to the left so I know when I get that feeling that this time it's right, falling right into your arms feels like home even when I'm gone,
and everything that's real seems to be fake or never last long,
like a rose picked from the garden,
you're my favorite and I'm glad I chose u,
but this rose is made up of something different that mixed together is now more than perfect and I know from the look I get every time I hold u,
baby will u Be my paper rose?
because the real ones always die,
and now a days when it's fake people try harder and then ask themselves every night why,
or baby be my fake rose because they last longer than an actual rose. .....
pedals slowing falling dying representing every tear I ever cried,
so baby be my rose the kind that never dies,
because in the end all I want is just a little more time before the final goodbye.
P.S. I love you more
Copyright © Post Script | Year Posted 2016
ODE TO A PERFECT ROSE
TO MY ROSE
Oh rose, with velveteen ears,
so soft and tender in years.
So sensuous to rub between fingers.
Oh how your romantic fragrance lingers!
MY ROSE REPLIES
Your admiration as you twirl my stem,
and form my beatific name into a meme,
as a memory, a pressed prayer, so holy.
You treasure me and sing my praise, slowly.
MY FINAL WORDS
Indeed, oh magnificent flower, I can share :
how you tango between my teeth & decorate my hair.
You exude so much happiness, so perfectly red.
I close my eyes and dream of you, as your petals touch my bed.
Shadow Hamilton's Ode to Flowers Contest
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017
It took years before I even recognized how special you were.
I simply never realized that anything like you ever existed. After my wife informed me of you, I became very fond of you.
In our garden on a former property, we had both thorn and non thorn roses like you. Of course I picked from both;
but nothing was more pleasant that picking you, my dear.
I only wish that we could have brought all our roses with us when we sold the property, rather than having to start over.
Having lived for five years in our present property, we have yet to own the your variety of roses that never ask for blood.
We were able to take one or two plants with us, but not you. O Gentle Rose, you were my most favored rose variety; but unfortunately, we could not take you with us.
If a person has never picked a rose, chances are that he has never been pricked by a rose thorn.
Picking roses is a lovely chore, but being pricked can leave one with an uncomfortable little sore.
My Gentle Rose, it would be a dream to own a garden filled with the likes of your beauty.
I often think of your gentleness, and I miss your friendly wave.
I tell everyone, if you should come to own such special rose, keep her close. All roses are lovely to me, but none so dear as you, my Gentle Rose.
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2017
She sits at her mirror brushing her hair, dressed in black velvet with just the right
She puts on her makeup with ever an ease, ready for the night, ready to please.
She picks up her flower and closes the door, its sunset this evening, who could ask for
She walks through the tall grass with a graceful pose, she bends down to lay her perfect
She wipes the tears that fill up her eyes and visions of the past marquis the skies.
He was her love, her dream come true, but God said "now I have to take him from you".
She wanders back home and enters the door, pictures of him scattered all over the floor.
Upstairs she ascends, ready to sleep, with visions of him, she begins to weep.
She lays on the bed, not a sound to be heard, she whispers, "I love you" but he never
utters a word.
Copyright © jamie mallinson | Year Posted 2005