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.
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
Chuck looks slender and charming
wearing his black
tux, white silk shirt, black
tie, black rose boutonnière on his lapel ,
and polish black
patent leather shoes;
drives up in his black Cadillac.
Chuck, a Texas oil tycoon, is a character,
drinking a glass of Black Crow whiskey.
Charlene, his foxy lady in black
dress and sable, diamonds woven in her black
hair, playfully flirting sips champagne.
Black twilight night emergent rays
cast twinkling stars through crystal chandeliers.
Cheerlessly, the black raven spies.
Chaffinch tips it blue-grey cap,
chirps under the black shadows of the trees.
Black sleek cat with white lighting eyes,
lurking in the moonlight, sighs.
Black gold drilling,
is Chuck’s conversation with his chairman.
As music plays, Charlene dances with his partner.
8/25/2021
not for contest
just musing
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
dust-wearing-wind carries a feeble cry in its palm,
settles it near ears that can no longer hear.
Cries arise from hollows of your hungry face,
a pulpit of high cheeks bones— in sharp relief
to sunken skin-scape sallow and paper thin—
a preacher on the harrows of hunger.
Vulture keeps a still, silent vigil,
a patient witness to your starvation,
comrade and adversary
in a fight for your last breath and beat.
Your loyal companion, a symbol of death
where drones rain with flames on tents of refugees
and sky splitting missiles make shrapnel of the sun,
where dragon fire artillery shoots the moon
and shreds stars till they fate-fall
like the last nightjars from nocturne skies.
Dear child of war,
alone with nothing in your belly but a stone,
rib bones a famine cage,
thoracic fingers squeeze your soul.
Your heart a hostage,
flutters like a lost moth against your sternum.
I long to hold you and feed you
honey made from a million wild flowers
uncrushed beneath metal plates of tank treads.
I yearn to bathe you of collapsed concrete dust
cleanse you of your mother’s blood, her
rattle-boned, battle-owned, maternal body wrapped
over yours as they fed her Kalashnikov lead.
My faraway ache for your plight pales
against your tiny body’s black-rose-throes,
a pawn to thorns of soldiers
grown on rocket-torn-boot-worn streets.
War-zone fig trees bear no fruit,
hibiscus buds die as hornets knit nests into shrubs,
tomorrow but a diseased wheat field laid to waste.
Dear child of war,
deliverance will come when pall-bearer winds
carry your cries elsewhere…
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.
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…
BLACK AND WHITE
Black sheep baa baa,
Black stripes - zebra.
White Bear: Polar.
White rays : Solar.
Black tea, black coffee.
White milk, white toffee.
Teeth white to bite.
Ant white : Termite.
Write on the white page.
Black car in garage.
Black diamond, black coal.
Light stolen by black hole.
White sand on sea beach.
Black magic by witch.
Black belt , trained in judo.
Killer spider: Black widow.
Pitch black crow is raven.
Toast burnt black in oven.
White dove : Symbol of peace.
Black rose known as black prince.
Black spots on white dice.
Black pearl : Pretty - nice
There was a day
There was a fear of exam
There was a hot noon
When I first saw a quite pie
With a thick braided hair till her hips
All the life who is in this world till now
It's hard to tell HOW THINGS CHANGE
My fear changes into excitement in hall
When i looked her next to me sitting and writing
She tho busy on her sheets I tho lost in her beauty
As after seed of a rose growing day by day
In my heart she loves to pluck the black Rose
from my heart and save as our memories
Hard to tell you HOW THINGS CHANGE
HOW THINGS CHANGE
As every bright day change into a dark night
As I have seen dark night with moon so
Hard to tell HOW THINGS CHANGE
HOW THINGS CHANGE
TO BE CONTINUE When THINGS AGAIN CHANGE
Dear all please forgive my mistake if their on writing
Breathing droplets, a nail in the coffin.
Here lies the fabric of hopes and dreams.
I need her.
But what do I need her for, I wonder?
I can’t rewrite the history of my heart.
One sided mirrors, a headless coin.
Hearts ablaze, weapons high.
March into battle, afraid.
Quicksand amongst a graveyard of flowers.
Frozen water on The River Styx.
Look at what you’ve wrought.
Until your heart is truly freed,
you will be enslaved by thought alone.
I can’t see the end of the horizon.
Her hand is out of reach.
Why can’t she see it?
My intangible soul claims another pair of eyes.
Red, yellow, and white roses adjacent to worms.
As the day dwindles into night, an awful truth dawns.
In the mist of the icy purple fog,
the blooming dies with the dying light.
Arise, my black rose.
It’s not possible,
King Hades’ prophecy is the law.
Immobile in the snow, my skin peels.
As she walks centuries away from where I stand,
I have no choice but to collapse into the roots.
Do you know we could die and not be missed
We could cry that same day and not be kissed
We could go from something to nothing in a jist!
Cause we could die and not be missed
In the palms of Adversity
I separate agony and misery, which is worse to me?
Lay face down in accusations and bring back chilvary
I am here today
for I was given a second chance this morning
I am ashamed of the person you have shaped me into,
The features performing
Through the darkest days hell is charming.
Peace from heaven is so alarming
I have been put here to be abused, chestised,
And wrongly advised,
I am innocent untill you make me guilty
My structure is so desent only to see you
Stand by and allow me to become filthy
My soul is so anxious to leave ,it's shilvering,
I'm tired and wilthering
I am a black rose in a casket of true lies
I forgive you,
But there's nothing holy about the redness,
That fills them blue skies,
Advocate or prophet,
My mother begging a rapist to "Stop It"
Insane, new claims is true pain, It's your fame,
I am but a shadow in shame!
Did you know we could die and not be missed
We could cry that same day and not be kissed
we could go from something from nothing in a jist,
Cause we could die and not be missed