Rose Couplet Poems

In their hour of need plant a seed of hope
for its in the giving that you can help them cope

In their hour of loneliness take...

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I was a celebrated, professional psychic, offering glimpses of rosy future;
And helping people work through problems, like pink moon, come sooner.

I had learnt to talk...

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The Rose II * by Cy Twombly
symbolic of both bush& tree...

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I was a marvelous ophthalmologist, impacting how others saw this world,
As tomorrow one day sees yesterday, on lanes where hued leaves swirled.

I corrected hazy, crazy...

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I was a bed and mattress tester, a dream job like that of a yellow moon.
I tested the comfort of beds, pillows, etc., for night...

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I was an experienced interior designer, whose specialty was outer doors,
Ever opening to amber sunshine, as petals open, when vivid beams pour.

Functionality and beauty were...

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The staticky-stars climax under intense blanket of Winter glow.
Your spouse can’t see your spirited green eyes that burn slow.

The friction of campfire sticks, the satiny...

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I was a college music teacher, engaged in pitch, tempo, rhythm and melody,
As lavish planets dance around a golden star, with the zeal of fuchsia...

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I was a celebrated, dramatic mime artist, an art developed in ancient Greece;
I took folks on flights of imagination, like cushy, butterscotch clouds of fleece.

So...

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I was an illustrious, nuclear physicist, and I was studying the strong force,
Holding together building blocks of all atoms, as stars hold to their course.

That...

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I was a world famous fashion designer, and quite enraptured with the new,
Like first caress of pink, peach dawn light, smiling at the full moon's...

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Her eyes look up towards the amber skies
In solemn prayer before the Sun dies

Only to live again a zillion times
Prayer is not for the Sun...

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A gaze guided by the tender currents of your heart
You have always seen the world as complex folk art 

Rose-colored glasses are not necessarily a...

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I was an eminent, solar physicist, like the blushing rose, craving renown.
Each butterscotch morning I drove to work, and toiled until red sundown.

The observatory was...

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Like a pale red running rose
Are the cheeks of my love, his nose
After he has walked a mile
Thinking of me all the while
At the opened...

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