Long Black rose Poems
Long Black rose Poems. Below are the most popular long Black rose by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Black rose poems by poem length and keyword.
Soft and fragile, the black petals lay.
A hand plucked it, tucking sorrow in its pocket.
A venomous sting struck the chest;
desperate, agonized, the body convulsed.
Shallow breaths lingered—
pain devoured the blood of the soul.
Prickings gnawed at flesh;
a scream rose for release, alone.
The rose mocked the trembling frame,
whispering: “Pass me on.”
Its constraints laid bare,
it warned of bleeding more petals
for the next to bear.
The offered chance was welcomed,
unaware of the treachery it held.
Since then, the hurt loops endlessly,
leaving a black, glimmering petal
upon each bosom.
The cursed rose still hunts a worthy hand;
humans pass it on,
wrapped in bruises and despair.
Everyone bears a petal now—
while one shoulders
the ever-growing curse.
And the black rose waits…
for the final heart to shatter.
Beneath the quarter moon’s pale glow,
Gas lamps flicker, casting shadows below.
Alleys whisper secrets, haunting and deep,
Lost in memories, he wanders on lonely street.
In the stillness of night, where shadows dance,
Oliver walks, caught in a trance.
Echoes of heartache mix with cobblestone’s sigh,
As memories of lost love refuse to die.
“What’s this?” A sight to behold, afar,
A blooming black rose, a midnight star.
In moonlight’s embrace, its beauty shines,
A symbol of hope in desolate confines.
Enchanted by the flower’s dark allure,
Oliver draws near, amidst night obscure,
For in its blooming, he sees a sign,
Love can blossom, even in the darkest time.
As he reaches for the black rose’s bloom,
A voice beside him breaks the heavy gloom.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Elena softly speaks,
Her voice like music, soothing the bleak.
He turns to her, his heart in a whirl,
Captivated by this mysterious girl.
“Yes,” he stumbles, his gaze held fast,
“Like a love that’s destined to last.”
She smiles, radiating the night,
In his darkness, she’s a guiding light.
“Perhaps,” she whispers, her gaze finding his,
“Love blooms in unexpected bliss.”
Their eyes meet beneath the moon’s soft glow,
A connection sparks, a warmth begins to grow.
In this moment, two souls entwine,
Bound by fate, their love divine.
An unexpected meeting, a rare kind of love,
A soul mate found, a gift from above.
In her eyes, he finds solace and grace,
A balm for his heart’s weary, weighted pace
Gas lamps flicker, shadows cast aside,
As Oliver and Elena walk side by side.
They wander the streets, no longer alone,
Their love, like the black rose, beautifully grown.
Hand in hand, they stroll through the night,
Bathed beneath soothing moonlight.
In the depths of darkness, a spark ignites,
A flame of love, burning through the night.
-Edward
I’m on the verge of losing everything
as lashing tears are thrashing ‘gainst the night
and mournful notes of black rose petals sing
from wells so deep they’ve never seen the light.
My come to Jesus moment on my knees,
I’m at your mercy in my darkest hour.
In desperation hear my praise and pleas,
the moody gloom surrounding me is dour.
These thorny thoughts of you won’t let me loose
and breathing is a fight I might not win.
High hopes and dreams in broken promise noose
from rope of human nature and of sin.
In woeful rhythm beaten heart does beat ~
my blood does sing the blues of your deceit.
All Eyez were watching him....watching and waiting
Someone was waiting ....hating him ..........baiting him....
Red blood of urgency, was surging and urging him......
Fate knows the story, it is talking the talk, it is walking the walk
Where it begins......where it will end
Haunting him............ taunting him...
It stalked streets of Harlem...like the panthers of night
His mind was a roadmap, traveling streets of a thug
They call him a rapper......spilling tears in the fog
Walking a life....he was keeping a beat...
there is so much more that was beating him.....cheating him......
Struggle and violence....fighting the fight
Walking and rapping,.....caring, daring
Cracks in the concrete...where a black rose would grow....
Yet, even the roses were trembling....knowing him...
Keeping a head up high,......higher...and higher
Splashing with gasoline....to put out a fire...
Turning a life into flames of a pyre
Driving the lonely Strip............recklessly driving...
Riding the shotgun..........gripping....and riding...
Life blood was almost dead,....losing.....losing...
.....dying..........and dying....
tears fall from cupid, bled.......... crying.....and crying.....
Somewhere the fire's red........somewhere........somewhere
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bio of Tupac Shakur
Bloom in the brightest of times,
Passionate black rose
Blend with the splendid aroma…it’s a wish
I grant to you, exquisite black rose
For you are my mother—withering away
Into the eerie night... you sway
Gloom caresses you in the darkest of time,
Gorgeous black rose
Mend the atmosphere overwhelmed with anguish
When your heart gave way, beautiful black rose
For you are my mother—driven away
Into the perilous sea… you say:
“Farewell, son/daughter of mine…Someday you’ll shine!”
Those last words will always be
A broken record forever in my drenched heart
Those last words led me in this debris
That forever took you away into the death’s cart!
Farewell...Farewell...Farewell!
Beautiful black rose...I don't want to see you wither away!
Farewell...Farewell...Farewell!
Beautiful black rose...mother...rest in peace 'till the day
You bloom in the glorious times
Rest in peace, farewell
Black rose.
In sepia foliage's of falsified fantasies,
cursed by haunting hornets stinging
with honeyed painted lies,
her mind was like a matriarch of metaphors.
An inflorescent seed buried in darkness,
with a somnolent spirit rustling in onyx nostalgia.
Too afraid to spread her fragile feathers,
she lay upon a bed of black rose petals,
veiled underneath dark raven phases,
hidden behind the silence of lunar secrets,
Her soul slept like grieving ghosts of galactic graves,
repeatedly releasing wounded sighs.
Not all florets flourish
with the mercy of rainwater,
only nourishing hands can create
an aesthetic pastel carnival of confetti,
like lilac lavender snowflakes of smoky love.
Some spicy spirits are like
the marigold locket of liquid,
glowing like turmeric hues
in tamarind tinted skies of oblivion,
clearing diaphanous dewdrops
of a grainy hourglass,
spreading vintage violet wishes
in bluish epiphany skies,
disintegrating a montage
burnt to nefarious ashes,
raising amaranth pink petals
of heartfelt empathy.
There is a magic in midnight reigns,
as dawn retreats, dusk births a saviour knight,
altering twilight's twinkling tunnel
of kismet stars perfumed with sins.
Moonlight spreads a subtle silk scent
when fears fall like cosmic dust,
soothing a scarred moon soul and stars in slumber.
Not all flowers need a gardener to grow,
but all seedsmen sow to bloom an ivory aurora,
through the obscurity of ebony eyes.
Sometimes, its the simple touch of fingertips,
that lays the perfect foundations,
for a sunflower to embellish in gold.
Black gold, velvet beauty rose bud
Lost in thy dreams you carry
Found dying in mourning flood
Glancing upon your last stanza’s guard
Silent mantra and strips of sward
Love song breathe sadness, farewells wary
Pain thunders unmanageably hard
Shard ashes buried once tainted by lifeblood
10/27/2016
.-.- , ,
, . ‘_ ‘
) ` - . . >` ‘ (
/ . . . . `I . . I
l. . . . .). . . l
( . . . . `) . . )
‘ = (l / . =’
` - .` . –
, .
`) l
11 _.-‘l
11(_,/
..( l .’
` 1(1(.. 11. /
(`1/1..1/(,
11
11 _.-‘l
11(_,/
/
- Poetry Contest : One Specific Rhyme Scheme
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Rhyme A - B - A - C - C - B - C - A
The clinical sentence was pronounced,
perfumed with the devil’s royal scent ~
a relapse that smells
like an ethereal remedy
as every restless leaf abandons
its luscious green to the grave,
where her heartbeat
still sighs amidst the sleepless sunrise
beneath the loam,
where gloaming once, upon a blood moon,
homed the valiant vibratos
of her laughter,
yet if the only way to remember
is to remain unhealed,
as russet strings
of a violin ring through,
carrying sweet nightmares ~
held within the dusk
like beloved nightingales,
letting my inner calendar
return to circling the date
when she last breathed my name ~
O divine darkness,
let me fade until the face
of September’s stars wane
and phase the sorrow
into soundless torrents of
rehearsed requiems
until hurt sounds like a hypnotic hymn.
I swallowed, O Griefversary,
my penance through turning time,
the italicised letters
chronicling the chronic memoirs
while the tongue of trauma
prescribes crippling anxiety
into my thoughts,
I have long bottled
blurred hope
and summer sonatas,
with every memory crushed
like an autopsy listed as an accessory,
weaving words
borrowed from archived affections
as I leave line after line,
no longer aching
for the dark to understand that
my faith developed a stutter,
my pulse filed pleas for Prozac,
my ink confessed unseen panic,
my skin carried fingerprints
of midnight fears ~
and I still walk through
the black rose maze of memories,
around the season of
her irrevocable demise ~
September, the soulful wraith
of ghosts I love beyond death…
The others are left to roam on their own…
Everlasting sorrow spills out from the carcasses…
Love has already spoiled…hate is the main event in the picture…
Laurel…Save yourself from death or hell...below...…before it’s too late!
The others are left to rot…they took their leave long ago
Hell has opened its gates and gravity pulls them down below the blemished ground…where they once slept…
Ashes placed here and there…buried…left untouched…unseen for years
Tell the others…”LEAVE OR THEY’LL FACE THEIR ABOMINABLE FATE”
Seven souls are casted to the graveyard
One must crawl out…of the crust…
Unveil your true nature…unwind for a time…scream out the truth
Learn to listen…learn to gain understanding and wisdom…GAIN INSIGHT…
Tread the narrow path…not the sinful, rocky trail…
Oh God, will you lift them up from their deathbeds?
Empty…lost…don’t forlorn for your love…she’ll return to you soon…go forward, despite your loss…
Shameful…alone…don’t look back – don’t step into that trap!
Calm down…you must leave her behind for a time…and forget and forgive the perilous past
A petite, sweet, black rose is placed next to her tombstone…I’m sorry for the agony that swallowed you whole like an immense tide
Pour forth your Mercy…upon him…let him trek the road to paradise
Exit the land of the dead…and live for eternity and you’ll earn true happiness
Forget not the gifts you come in contact with
Rummage not into the Storage Room full of horrid memories
Off you trot…run away from this nightmare…this living nightmare…
Marvel at the black, velvet sky and pray to Him…welcome the sun with open arms
Isolate yourself from the ghosts that doused you with long-term grief
Torn apart by your absence, I finally found my way out of my own wistful snare…
Sell not your heart of gold…keep it and treasure it…it’ll serve you good
Dark spirits…GOOD RIDDANCE…purge from him his painful distress…
Escort him to a better place…a palace he calls Home…
Make sure to spread out good news upon him…so he won’t feel that searing stress
I hope for the best for him…I don’t care how insane I sound right now…
Silly how much I can actually sympathize with him…LOOK up to Him
Exactly…I’d be careful what you wish for or pray for…
Sad news today, February 6th in our year 2011
To "The Great Gig in the Sky" sell out in Heaven
My favourite blues rock guitarist, Mr Irish Gary Moore
Joins the "Midnight Blues, "Too Tired" no more will he tour
At fourteen years of age he received his first guitar
Like many budding rockers aspirations to be a rock star
The Beatles, Elvis Presley and the amazing Albert King
Heavily influenced this left hander, who made his right hand sing
As he grew past his teens, the genre he'd enter would mean
The likes of John Mayall's Bluesbreakers and Hendrix, now he's seen
Blues Rock it was to be, when Peter Green caught his ear
If you grew up with this maestro, you'll know his career
It started way back, way back in 1969
Skid Row, from Dublin he joined, as the music industry would find
This is where his association began, with Lynott, bassist extraordinaire
Many nights sharing the blues, this two Irishmen would share
His solo career just grew and grew, then into Thin Lizzy he would blend
Sharing the Black Rose stage with Phil his Irish friend
The blues became his life, with two Albert's who'd share his stage
Guesting with his 'Midnight Blues Band' many a jam they would engage
I now close my humble tribute, for he'll always be in my heart
On this day in Estepona, Spain, my hero in final depart
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/music-5.php