Red Rose Poems | Examples
These Red Rose poems are examples of Rose poems about Red. These are the best examples of Rose Red poems written by international poets.
A red rose smiled,
and bled in wild.
Fourtle Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Me and my love, are like two roses, we love each other so much, that we grew together, side by side.
We choose to be red, for our love is so strong, like the blood of life, we live in each other’s arms, feeling each other all through life.
We smell the same, like the sweetest scent that has ever been found.
Just the touch of our love, can make us feel like we are in heaven mist.
My rose is here in my hand; it smells so sweet it makes me have feeling of loving endlessly.
My rose is red like my blood, reminding me of life and its endless cycle of love.
Like a kiss from nature, our bond makes us feel amazingly.
My rose blooms beautifully and comes back every year, to make me smile again and again.
Lifting prayers to God, for all the love.
Let the flowers grow around Queen Anne’s lace,
As vanilla clouds simulate snowflake motifs.
This Wintering in Spring, amidst green leaves.
A red velvet garden of thorns and grace.
Let the flowers grow, strong; popped-button-proud;
Bright friends of sun’s bolster - deep ruby lips;
Rainshower-couture, like painted nail tips.
Deep, bountiful presence - silent, but loud.
Let the flowers grow, suddenly chosen
To be gathered in a wedding bouquet;
Or one by one, fragrant stems kissed on broadway.
Still, most remain, in season, unbroken.
I'll be free to kind-ness of daisies
gently trembling through the void,
and the softness of held hands
which are offering raisins,
without a trick of quicksand.
There's seeds that has a need
of watering & the showering,
Grows into roses with its thorns
defense mechanism vulnerability
can be sweet and leave you torn.
A mother cradles her newborn
and will show her teeth
if you interrupt her breath
into her child's new lungs,
and a simple harmony sang
She's now a bee to become....
ROSE
soft pink
pastel red
reminiscent love
a youthful memory
buried in the seams of time
“bittersweet fragrance lingers on”
Placed third
Pyramids Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
By Poet "Great memories are the best kind to have but some memories bring a waterfall of tears."
all little girls like to play dress up
mom had great hats, bags and pearls
her pretty white pearl necklace was long
around my neck
hitting my knees
her floppy hats were very colorful
the big red one almost covered my face
bringing out my pink rose blush tiny cheeks
I loved her big colorful bags
some with straps some with metal chains
playing for hours made me all grown up
at the time I did not know value
of this costume pretty white pearl necklace
a few dollars when new
years later I found them
new she only paid a few dollars
now all these years later I found them
where she left them sitting in an old box
the precious jewels I played with for hours
now with meaning more than if they were real pearls
A red rose blooms in morning light,
Soft petals kissed by dew so bright.
A whisper of love, a silent flame,
In crimson grace, it speaks your name.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Evegrhhfb under the sun dies too
Fulcrum of a Rose
A lambent sight, my morning star,
sweet essence on my tongue.
A mem'ry stirred—those bygone days,
a secret love so young.
That lambent sight, my nostrils seared,
trust wrought of hope and fear.
She loves me so, she loves me not—
I beg I pray, my dear.
I wonder whence this essence comes—
I close my eyes, breathe deep.
From time and space. A higher realm.
A tunnel one-way steep.
One velvet scale, droplets of dawn
falls—spirit rent in two,
Another pluck, my fingers twitch—
mere instants born anew.
I fear to count how many drop—
worse, how many remain.
That smell so sweet, now on the floor,
unraveled till insane.
Red petals, damn filthy petals!
Your right to choose, I do revoke!
I swear it on her name.
A single tiny seed bravely emerges
its root so delicate, yet so strong
bearing a single red rose
The fragrance tickles my senses
the pure fulcrum of the rose escapes
and I drift through a million magical auras
I gasp in delight at beauty rising
from roots in dirt, thorns sharp but the flower so fragile
That pure fulcrum fragrance lives, as well
within our souls — spreading joy and energy
A long-stemmed rose ...
Her finest silk gown of vermilion petals
unfurls in rhapsody of a bride's embrace.
A dewy little face of splendor looks up
and permeates the air with waves of scent.
Spilling sweet essence of a soft lullaby
A Duchess in her branch, a floating red cloud.
Bees gossip around her, whispering stories
of lush green love, and bountiful blooms.
But the rose said, I won't be always red.
The effervescent spring, December preys
Black Death turns all crimson to greys.
Wilting leaves to endure her frozen petals,
and thorns guard her with pricks of Truth.
A balance of fulcrum with equal weights-
you wish to be this, but you need to be that.
The rose lives not long, it's only for a while
But waits for the Equinox, for another smile.
A long-stemmed rose...
"Something with inner beauty will
live forever, like the scent of a rose."
Quote by – Alex Flinn
_________________________
While walking in the forest I came upon wild roses growing,
they were in a variety of colors red, white, yellow, and purplish;
their stems so prickly but their petals a fulcrum of lovely scents,
O, there was a sweetness in every folded petal.
Each scent unique, the heart of the rose, the foundation, center;
the petal glistens, glimmers, sending its scent into the air.
Within me the heart of the rose is my soul, beautiful and sweet,
people tell me I am beautiful but it is the outside that they see;
it is what lies within shining through, it is kindness, and gentleness,
O, it is the sweetness to every person met in life.
This kind of beauty is like a saturated wild rose growing,
to be touched, loved, admired, and told you smell so good.
I held
a red rose
to face, to feel its grace.
To see, and touch and trace,
the wellspring of its beauty.
It's not in lush of blush of petals,
Nor in the sleuth to avoid its thorns,
Nor in its color reflected when held under a chin.
But in its fragrance, its crux, emanating from its core,
that trips the pivot point of perception to delve within.
To the essence of the 'within of things', flushed from heart, spirit, soul.
Flames that ignites
bright red at its core,
ravenous hunger linger
overwhelmed by its
hot desire and through
the night it burns,
its visible heat scorches
the skin of its next victim,
leaving a mark of sole
ownership, it kisses
endearingly seducing
in enchantment,
torturous feeling reigns
in a field of thrones caused
by a leakage of subtle
attraction,
a rose in its prime curves
and twists along these
spikes being
tormented,
suffocated,
coddled violently,
but its beautiful sight continues
to call the
Master of Silver Tongue,
Eyes of Lust and Passion
sways its prey shackling
its heart for a moment
of pleasure.
binging rose,
soaked in red summer;
so sanguine.
T L C…
as I linger - she’s beautiful
she stands on her own