Mother Rose Poems

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

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Details | Narrative |
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

Copyright © Nina Hernandez | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |
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

Details | Verse |

I carried it on my lap all the way to you,
    The bus ride was so long, so long, Mom;
Lost in old memories of you and me, together, 
              I just looked out the window all the way.

                        Holding a wilting red rose ~

The gate of the cemetery creaked as usual,
     The path filled with many crumbling leaves;
Cool wind took my long raven hair blowing it back,
              I felt my tears falling as I neared your tomb.

                         Holding a wilting red rose ~

I stood for a long time with my eyes closed,
     The words carved in stone and in my heart;
Feeling the pride of a daughter for a wonderful Mom,
                I fell to my knees weeping for what is lost.

                           Holding a wilting red rose ~

Then at last I rose and dried the forever tears,
    I touched the words carved  on your cold tomb;
And retraced my steps down the path, closing the gate,
                I boarded the bus and was soon lost in thought.

                             Holding a wilting red rose ~

                                            . . . . . still

May 11, 2014



Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |
     The day my mother was taken from me 'Halloween'
     fifty she had just turned the golden years she so much yearned
     Left partially in a river her body broken and bruised
     hidden from sight alone on a many twilight

     Painfully I searched for days to weeks and on
     knowing a homicide had occurred in the early morning dawn

     A man in a drug induced state with no heart of grace 'Winsette' his name
     has left me with a lifelong of memory and pain
     At times in my heart for him I would wish to destroy
     all the evil thoughts for him I felt I would enjoy

     But I have learned to forgive so I could liberate my soul
     even though he now walks the streets on parole

     So on Halloween night there is no candy to give
     only a memory of a mother I have lost instead

     As I take the long walk to my mother's headstone
     I lay a single yellow rose and a sweet candy kiss upon her head.

Dedicated to: My Mother 1939-1989  Never forgotten on Halloween Night
T Reams 9/27/2015   copyright     Contest sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
My Favorite Flower    Placed 1st

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
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 .

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Villanelle |
While holding frail roses close to the breast,
I think of a dawn, so perfect and fair,
ardent with sunlight and warm on the crest

I watched from the window, you were recessed,
deep in thorn bushes, gold in your hair,
while holding frail roses close to the breast

You seemed like a child, barefoot, at best,
pulling a weed, as the breeze stirred the air,
ardent with sunlight and warm on the crest

You looked to the sky, your thoughts off somewhere,
as if you knew time was fragile, at best, 
while holding frail roses close to the breast

I think you knew then, how moments, compressed
must fade like the rose, when autumn prepares,
ardent with sunlight and warm on the crest

I've learned through the years, how timeless and blessed
are keepsakes we hold, like roses, once pressed,
while holding frail roses close to my breast,
ardent with sunlight, and warm on the crest

Contest: Villanelle Me A Flower or Flowers
Sponsor: Broken Wings

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016

Details | Monorhyme |
Under the mystical moon she glows.
All obscure answers she knows.
From her heart, love composes.

Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |
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

Copyright © Kenneth J Thompson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballade |
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

Copyright © Oma Bennett | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
My mother was like a rose
beautiful at sight
frail to touch.

She could stand up
and say her mind.

She needed love
I feel like she never got any.
And that’s why she withered away
like a rose.

Her heart was pure,
her soul made of gold.

She’d rustle in the wind,
and hide when cold,
much like a blooming rose.

Day by day
a petal would drop 
‘til nothing was left.
She was the dying rose.

And as each day goes by
without her sweet melody,
I tell myself this:
I must not cry that she is gone
but smile,
she was here.

Written by my 10-y.o. daughter Payton

Copyright © Anthony Amero | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |
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.

Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
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.

Copyright © Nya Johnson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Cinquain |
Mother Nature’s Beauty “ Cinquain” Red rose Floral fragrance Nourished by mother earth Yesterday’s bud today’s beauty Bouquet 6/4/2015 Contest Name: Cinquain "cinquain" contest by Sara Kendrick

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Your strong hand 
beneath my head
my Love in your Blood
turned from friendship
did spread
into More
the first time you
took my Hand
and traveled every
line, of my Flesh land
the way you reflect your soul
Into my Eyes, 
makes me forget my small stature
shape, size
in this world
I wish to carry your 
future child
be it boy or girl
be them strong of spirit
Smarts of street and class
leaders of Eminence
Sweet mixed with Sass
I see this future
as I fall head first, spilling
into your secure embrace
like a single bottle of Rose Wine
Down to the last Taste

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |
She’s lying there down in the grass
With dad beside here, years now past.

Well below the noise and bustle
And leaves that fall from trees that rustle…Soft

And sweetly she went about
Day by day and left no doubt.

As to whom she was and how she lived
With all her love but for to give. 

To myself and others she met and cared
For everyone she taught to share.  Everything 

We have inside from laughter-smiles
To tear-filled eyes.

From the sunrise golden to the darkest nights
She could always see

      An Eternal Light. 

That shined upon her each step she took
And gave her strength and changed her looks. 

More angelic as time rolled on
Until it ceased and she was gone. 

Yet I still see her face and eyes
As clear as I see clear blue skies. 

And will until I find her once more
Standing near that open door.

That will lead us to another story
Of Eternal Light and lasting glory.  

Copyright © Terrell Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rispetto |
 I often dream of the garden stretching out

   wearing the early morning sun like a crown

     I will dream of the sound of a rooster's shout,

       and mother barefoot, still dressed in nightgown

         pulling a tall weed, while puttering about

           looking like a pink cheeked girl, with eyes of brown,

             clutching a bouquet to her breast. She would hold  

               roses, as if they were treasures made of gold


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

Details | Senryu |
Oh lovely rose song
Pressed in that book for so long
Music can't be wrong

Memories that stay
always recurring array
Learning how to pray

Thoughts engraved so deep
Everlasting pure, keep
Reminding of love

Oh that lovely rose
Pressed in that book that was closed
She lovingly chose

Memories that say
True love won't take her away
Momma I miss you

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Personification |
In a lovely place paradisiacal, 
where the softest showers bring
blooms that open up their petals 
and then begin to sing
and shimmer in synchronization, 
with undulating hues,
vocalizing for their Maker their 
sweet melodious tunes. . . .
is where I saw you first, 
fair flower- among that radiant cluster,
echoing your praise 
with all the fervor you could muster.

You resided in a spot, 
slightly shaded. .. .on the border,
where ornamental shrubbery
 lent an immaculate order.
Not amidst the pansies 
or the other annual flowers
that glimmer for their time 
but need rest at pre-set hours.. . 
but there with the stalwart bushes, 
unobtrusive in your pose -
A simple classic beauty; 
for my guide, I picked a rose.

(For my mother, who is a very spiritual, faithful and modest
 woman and a very immaculate housekeeper as well!
I often wonder if I chose my mother before coming to earth!)


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Haiku |
Like a Rose a rose
You tell a story story
I see your glory

Copyright © Rene'e Braxton | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |
I know where grows a perfect rose
And so I'm lucky I suppose
Since it's well known they're seldom grown
On feral vine or pampered rows.

They grow instead in random beds
And just by chance or grace instead
And seldom seen by King or Queen
But just by luck, or so it's said.

I found one though at Mom's chateau
All by itself within a row
Of ancient root, one single shoot
From withered stock it had arose.

There's still some shine in that old vine
As if it were by God's design
To raise its head in Mother's bed
To that I guess I should resign.

The perfect rose that seldom grows
On feral vine or pampered rows...
But grows instead in flower beds
Of yet another perfect rose!

                               Timothy I. Brumley

 To my Mother with love.

Copyright © Timothy Brumley | Year Posted 2012

Details | Haiku |
‘ Yellow Rose of Texas ’ Haiku  # 14

         A Lone Star Shone On
         A Yellow Rose of Texas
         and Bluebonnets Grown

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme |
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."

Copyright © Archontoula Alexandropoulou | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Barbara Rose

Barbara Rose her prayer she would pray for all:
I wish for the beauty of thoughts and beauty that come through life's walk through the soul
 and heartaches and laughter and love of each other..
the memories of what could have been and the life song for the future..
I wish for the beauty in words to come alive in the mist of our souls,
to show the world what words of beauty could really accomplish in peoples hearts,
that the ecstasy of life could blossom in each person lives and sing the beauty of songs and 
to reach the hardest of hearts and just be friends.
I wish for love for each of one of you..
With melodies flowing
the day is long
Blessed are those that love
and wait the wait
Enthralled and enslaved by the char
of those sparkling eyes for all the world to see
Empowered by Saviors grace
Her eyes spoke of things to come
A Love of the master for all
Compassionate feelings of her hearts
Were of her family That she had been so blessed
Her name was Barbara Rose
Dear Momma,
I love you so much
One day I will be there all the way up there
In glorious heaven with you
to dance with you
And walk the streets of gold
I miss you mom
Your wonderful smile
Your gorgeous laugh
Our long talks
You being so wise
Telling me all about Jesus.

You always told me,
Love life
Life will love you back
Love people
People will love you back
Pour out your love my daughter
Love will pour back....

Keep extending love and your will receive
Be found faithful and your will be rewarded.
Thank you my momma
Love you dearly
With all my heart
Love you: Brooke

This mothers day is hard without you mom... I miss you so... 
but all the memories from you is the best I ever had... 
Love you so much.... 
This is my dear mom that left us back in July 2011.. 
She had a long hard illness but everyday to her was a blessings with a big smile on her face.
 She loved all and all loved her.. Blessings to each one of you..

Happy Mothers day to all...

Copyright © Brooke Dylan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic |






Copyright © Sujish Kandampully | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rondeau Redouble |
A rose should be given to a mother, For a special kind of woman she could make. A good mother is a hard somebody to be; Such a hard task only she would undertake. Love has its wilts and blooms Like between child and mother. Love will continually blossom If given the chance to one another. In life's times of drought The flower will fall, But then the rain comes to mend, And again it blooms after all. If roses are red And violets are blue, Then that special woman As I feel, would be you. I send you this poem With showers of the love That comes from your child On the wings of a dove.

Copyright © Kathryn Estrada | Year Posted 2012

Details | Shape |
 To My Beautiful Daughter                
            Ella "Rose"                                                 
           Shape Poem

                                                            pretty   I <3 love baby
                                                         bro                              ella   
                                                        wn                                     my ro
                          *                          hair                      al                    se 
                      *   *                         big                      ways                 to 
                    *    *  *                       doe                            mine           eter        
                   *          * * *                eyes                                  be  nity     mag
                   *                   *               forever                                                   ni
                   *                      *      my    and ever                                                fi                  
                      *                     *   girl             perfect                                         ce
                        *                       luv                     skin    ella             luv           nt
                           *  *              her                         love                       pri      my
                                *  *            al             to                                         ncess
                                     *           ways     day                                sun
                                         *  *   *     miss her                                mine
                                                                cu                        lovely
                                                                    te                amazing
                                                                      butt       funny


Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |
My children are a beautiful rose
I am the thorny stem.

I was a young bride
with no home of my own
mistreated and forced to abide
I left my children behind....

Their fate was to be with out
always longing for our brief moments together
They always excepted me with out a doubt.

Destiny did not abandon them
it provided a firm bond between them
Now that I've come home to stay
The Lord has taken me away
In Heaven I will wait for them.

Madre mia, your mistaken
you may have seen yourself as a thorny stem
we saw you  as our own precious jem
Your fiery and vibrant soul The Lord has taken
Our unforgettable memories of you can not be taken
we will hold on to them until we reunite again.

Copyright © Gloria Cervantes | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |
Night after night, she sits down and contemplates
In her mind she knows her loss, but still she sits and waits

He, her husband, another statistic he has become
Killed in a far away land, another soldiers blood has run

Day after day she's taken back, to moments they had shared
Carving their names on a tree, showing teenagers cared

Through green fields of pastures new, season after season
At fourteen years old they clicked, love was a reason

Whilst she paces their family home, his steps gone forever
Killed in a far away land, another life now severed

In her time their kids will be told, daddy's never coming home
For the angels have asked him to stay, just to let him roam

Memories of their pasts resonate within her mind
For she knows she'll find no other, for he was one of a kind

Outside the window where she stares, under many seasons skies
She sits down and contemplates, why the Rose always cries

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |
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!

Copyright © Yolaine Armitage | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
She rose each day to roll the dough,
   by 5:00 AM, she served.
Her apron tight around her waist,
   Her heart ne'er seemed unnerved.

Eggs and bacon, sausage and grits,
   the fare always the same.
She sipped her coffee. Spied her man,
   still dark, before sunrise came.

Finished, he rose. Donned his cap
   and kissed her on the cheek.
He knew his strength came from her.
Though quiet, she's ne'er meek.

Pat her on the fanny,
   and praise her for the meal.
He'd saunter down those old back steps,
   another day to kill.

She'd sit a while, and think to herself
   a mom with kids to tend.
That soon would be time for them to rise,
   then she'd do it all again.

Copyright © David Brooks | Year Posted 2016