Best Rosa Poems
Finally it’s time to go,
All day I’ve pushed peddles with my feet,
I’ll hurry to the bus stop,
Being sure to get a good seat.
There, a chance to rest,
Home, I’m on my way,
Only to get up tomorrow,
And put in another day.
Photos, questions and fingerprints,
Did I commit a crime?
I distinctly remembered when I boarded,
Dropping in my dime.
Why give up my seat?
After working hard all day,
I thought the fare was the same for all,
Is there more I have to pay?
Don’t they know how hard I’ve worked?
To get this seat I had to rush,
Now you’re going to tell me,
Move to the back of the bus.
Wait, I pay my taxes,
Even go to church and pray,
They do not have the right,
To treat Rosa Parks this way.
I never wanted to start a movement,
Just have a seat on the bus,
Being treated fairly as an American,
Why is everyone making such a fuss?
My name is known throughout the world,
In history books here and there,
It really didn’t have to be me you know,
Just anyone who paid their fare.
Almost 50 years later,
An Icon is my name,
I’d gladly do it all again,
Circumstances being the same,
Heaven is my final journey,
Can’t wait till I get there,
Knowing I’m going to enjoy the ride,
I’ve already paid my fare.
I
"Gotta job as a nanny!"
"Maybe they'll hire me as a butler"
"Butler and nanny always live
in close quarters"
She winks
He raises and eyebrow suggestively
II
"I love flirting with poets
so...
palpable"
"Indeed my dear, indeed.
We are a flirtatious, passionate creature"
"But we're also dramatists
adulterers
alcoholics
and prone to murder and suicide"
"Yes, some may look down on our kind,
but goddamn, we ain't boring"
III
"The first time I read Bukowski,
it was like I rediscovered
some part of myself
that was missing
or that I'd hidden away
either consciously or subconsciously
years ago.
I might have to write that down.
New freeverse."
"Love when that happens"
"Me too.
That's one thing i love about talking to poets.
Conversations often turn into writing"
"Simple Ideas morph into insolent dreams.
There's my freeverse snippet of the day"
IV
"A good poet may exaggerate,
but is no liar"
"True;
and exaggeration is like getting high,
makes everything better.
Possible Haiku?"
V
"Love is our strongest muse"
"Absolutely.
It's the most vital element to human life;
brings our greatest highs and deepest lows"
VI
"The cool thing about dating poets
is that they don't give a care
if you get
caught up with someone else
and by caught up
I mean
hopelessly
carelessly
seeexually
entangled."
VII
"The white gown
drapes over your succulent frame
like a dress of beauty.
Your hair, rusty orchid
in the shade of the picture,
cascades down smooth cheeks
the hand can die happy
having once caressed."
"That was my mom's wedding dress.
I like rusty orchids,
and the Shakespearian ending
was a harpsichord
resonant
a saunter around my affection for the dead
living
doll
I once was
came again to the meter of memory
an escapist serenade"
VIII
"Where does time go
when poets commerce?"
"Onto the paper"
Velour petals of ruby red
scent of perfume upon the air;
visions swim inside my head
a cascading vine of roses fair.
Imbued with grace of angels
defense against wilder strangers;
Blossom of heaven’s honey-dew
smoother than the finest fondue.
A plethora of colors bold
live within La Rosas fold;
breath of ambrosia, heaven sent
frees the path to contentment.
3-13-2021
Flower or Flowers in Imagism Form - Poetry Contest
Constance La France
They rode the bus with me today
From our town to the big city
she, so dainty, hands crossed, old hands.
Ankles crossed ever so slightly,
so very ladylike.
He had his arm aorund her,
Protecting her from the cold window
when the train went to and fro too.
She would look at him
with such love and trust.
He loves her too, ever so much.
How many years they have been together
he seemed to say.
With the good years and the bad
we have each other still.
Yes she said to him,
Rosa and Klause rode the bus with me today.
Striking fists ready to rumble & take defense
spiking soup with ginger makes more sense
beets ruby & golden broth brews perka pink
defeats all hatred, unlike you, lento is my ink
Brain waves flow against pessimistic energies
flames grave slow sink in my ocean’s synergies
[sigh] I’m not like you, I embrace what’s different
I let your unordinary mind unfold, until it isn’t
Rosa Louise Parks
refused to give up her seat
“First Lady of Civil Rights”
back in fifty-five
civil disobedience
‘fore Martin Luther King’s time
courageous Rosa
kept her seat and caused a stir
faith told her she was right
created equal
in the colorblind eyes
of a Lord who loves mankind
desegregation
took decades to accomplish --
a Maverick led the way
*Entry for Cyndi’s "Mavericks" contest
This choka was tweaked by having six instead of seven syllables in the second line of the third verse.
Rosa Louise Parks (February 4, 1913 – October 24, 2005) An African American, Parks refused to obey a Montgomery, Alabama bus driver’s order that she give up her seat to make room for a white passenger. Congress bestowed upon her the title “First Lady of Civil Rights.”
Rosa Parks
Would have been a hundred
Were she alive today
Human beings of any colour
would gladly let her sit
Anywhere on the bus
With the possible exception
Of the driver's seat
Remembering Rosa Parks
By Elton Camp
Well over a half-century has now passed
Since she resisted discrimination at last
To the back of the bus she refused to move
One person makes a difference she did prove
Ms Parks refused to let herself be disrespected
And didn’t respond as racial bigots expected
Those officials who tried it were surprised
When the civil rights movement it galvanized
President Obama went and sat in her seat
In recognition of the courage of her feat
He well might not be where he is today
If Rosa Parks hadn’t acted in that way
Serenade Me, Julius La Rosa
His striped tie has a green tint color
And his hands are dark and bulging with blood.
I can see them gripping the steering wheel like parrot talons.
I can see from all the way up here
That one of his fingers has a golden wedding ring,
And he just sits there in that Studebaker
Looking up at my apartment window,
Like I’m some freaking captive locked in a high tower,
And he’s my guard, my sentinel,
Making sure I do not escape.
“Hey you! Yeah you! I’m talking to you!
Oh? You have a problem with me seeing the blond bombshell?
The one with the face that launched a million ejaculations?
The face that burned the topless towers
Of a million American households?”
Now he has a cigarette going inside that sleek automobile.
It’s dangling from his lips
Like a big white toothpick from Scully’s.
The Los Angeles Mirror,
The front page,
Rests forlornly on the passenger seat.
I can even see the headlines from up here –
Something about an execution,
Julius and Ethel R.
Serenade me, Julius La Rosa!
Sing to me now! ‘Eh, Cumpari!’
It’s 1953 and all’s well in the world.
There shall be a tiki torch in every back yard!
“A cocktail? Here, have mine.
I’m well stocked here in my Kasbah.
Now, sweetheart, what were you going to say?”
“When I dance with you,
I feel like I’m in Paris by the Seine,
Dancing in technicolor with Gene Kelly.
You have wonderful moves and a very masculine touch,
And I can almost hear Gershwin music,
Way off in the distance.”
“By the way, my darling Norma Jeane, who taught you to dance?”
“To be honest, my mother.
It was an emergency situation, I had a hot date, so…”
And now we are sashaying on my torn and tattered carpet,
With Perry Como crooning ‘No Other Love’ on my Hi Fi,
Over there in the dark corner.
The lights of the Big Enchilada
Glisten outside my lone window
Like a million incandescent candles
That burn with lust for us.
“Hold me closer.
I need to feel your warm blood.
I need to breathe in your luscious sweet cologne.
Mmmmmm. Kiss me.”
“I will kiss you.
I will kiss you long and I will kiss you very hard.
But first, my darling, why not some Rachmaninoff,
The second piano concerto,
Instead of Perry Como?”
“No Piggy.
Locked in your arms I’ll stay.
Waiting for you to say,
No other love have I.”
Rosa Louise McCauley Parks
On December 1, 1955 She lit up a huge spark
She refused to give up her seat that day on the bus
Instead, she proudly sat, made faces and ignored the fuss
Rosa Louise McCauley Parks (1913 – 2005) was an African American civil right’s activist and seamstress whom the U.S. Congress dubbed the “Mother of the Modern-Day Civil Rights Movement”.Parks is famous for her refusal on 1 December 1955, to obey bus driver James Blake’s demand that she relinquish her seat to a white man. Her subsequent arrest and trial for this act of civil disobedience triggered the Montgomery Bus Boycott, one of the largest and most successful mass movements against racial segregation in history, and launched Martin Luther King, Jr., one of the organizers of the boycott, to the forefront of the civil rights movement. Her role in American history earned her an iconic status in American culture, and her actions have left an enduring legacy for civil rights movements around the world. (From wikipedia)
So graceful and kind
So honest and true
While she sat down for me
She stood up for you
Only by refusing to move
When ordered to
She paid the price
And satisfied our dues.
Stubborn refusal by Rosa Parks
to up from her bus seat set off sparks...
that ignited flames of Civil Rights movement.
'Twas a legendary, watershed moment!
Submitted for...
Clerihew Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Date written: 12/18/2020
Die Rose,
die im Stillen mir schon blühte,
vertrocknet war sie schnell im Morgenlicht.
Und auch ihr Duft,
verging zu schnell,
Wie kurz geträumter Traum,
der leicht zerbricht.
Wo dürre Zweige
sich verworren zeigen,
im Dickicht,
hinter frischem Grün,
zeigen sich Blüten bunt
im Farbenreigen,
bevor sie schnell
im Sommerlicht verblühn.
Die Rose,
die ich meine,
sie blühte nur für mich alleine,
im warmen Sommerwind.
Doch blühte sie vielleicht auch nur
zum Scheine,
um mir zu zeigen
wie die Zeit verrinnt.
---------------------------------------------
The rose,
which flowered sectetly for me,
had dried up fast in early morning light.
And hence its scent,
which did not last
had passed too fast,
Like dreams too briefly dreamed
and easy break at last
Dry branches twisted
in the thicket tight,
behind fresh green,
and brightly painted blossoms show
a coloured round dance,
yet be seen
before they quickly wilter
in summer's glooming light
The rose,
I mean,
blossomed only for me,
in this warm summer wind.
But also might have bloomed pretenced.
And nothing more for me to say,
how quickly time trickles away.
----------------------------------------------
La rosa
que floreció secreto para mí,
secó tan ágil en la luz de la mañana.
Y su aroma pasó rápido,
como un sueño poco soñado
que quebra muy ligero
Donde ramas secas
muestren confusión
del matorral
detrás de verde fresco,
aparecen flores colorados
en colorido baile de la ilusión
antes que marchitan
en la veraniego luz
La rosa,
de que hablo,
floreció sólo para mí,
en el viento caliente del verano.
Pero floreció tal vez de farsa,
para mostrarme sólo así,
cómo tan rápido el tiempo pasa
Tried to resist the temptation
But my will is not that strong
Tried to push you away
But found myself holding on
And now I’ve gone too far
There’s no turning back
It’s all gonna fall apart
So I just live in the this moment
It feels so wrong
My guilt consumes me
You already belong
To somebody that’s not me
Yet still I lie here in your arms
Cause there’s nowhere I’d rather be
I meant to cause no harm
But that’s all I seem to be doing
I’ve always felt so drawn to you
Since the moment that we met
I could tell you felt it too
Couldn’t get the thought out of my head
Or the way your eyes undressed me
From all the way across the room
A look that’s so compelling
What else was I to do
Now I can’t help myself from falling
Though I know how foolish it is
I Try to pretend it’s not her calling
As you switch your phone to silent
But I can’t hide that I’m affected
It’s smeared across my every thing
This secret must be kept one
So it sits inside me festering
And I don’t even have the right to hate you
It isn’t me you’ve been doing wrong
It’s her to which you've been unfaithful
This is something I have known all along
Still my heart aches like it’s broken
I feel like I don’t know myself anymore
Hard to believe this is the path I’ve chosen
I’m nothing more than a home wrecking whore
But even with that knowledge
I can’t keep away from you
Your love provides me with little solace
Only leaves me sad and confused
And though I hurt
Woe is not mine
It belongs to her
The one you call wife…
Of Radiance
Red fire and blaze, locks of shining scarlet
Emerald intrigue, gems of such precocity
Soft half-moons upon a perfect helix, temptatious
And a helm so bright, so sweet, so tenatious
Of Pleasure
Anticipation weakening me, I find myself helpless
The gates open and the hounds are upon the fox
The world peels away and there is nothing to remember
All wits lost about me, lost to the slow burn
Of Pain
And yet this primal heat cannot melt my ferrous hold
As I clamor about in this days lap
My abysmal core is unwilling, entrenched and stolid
It will not be moved behind the furrows of love
And so I can offer myself as nothing more than the Rosa Canina
The heights of pleasure entangled with the depths of pain
Symbolism:
According to Victorian Floriology, the Rosa Canina or Dog Rose has the meaning of "pleasure
and pain" (felt at the same time).