Rhyme Rose Poems | Examples
These Rhyme Rose poems are examples of Rose poems about Rhyme. These are the best examples of Rose Rhyme poems written by international poets.
May the yellow rose
Always refuse to fold,
Thrive and never grow old;
Ever be home within my soul,
Survivng the heat and the cold.
If the truth be told or written on a scroll,
I sincerely wish she could be stored and
Saved as treasured valuables like gold.
A rose devoid of color
and a poem reft of rhyme,
met without meaning,
timeless in an idle mind
that could not think, lay ink
upon a page, engage,
or otherwise oblige
the shrinking will
of one who'd fill a page.
So, sadly, they sat, not wishing that
they'd end, badly penned,
in a nothing, a not,
a period, a dot.
From her bed, the white rose pled,
this black ink poem,
obscures my form,
pale, pure, and pretty,
Please ma'am to see, the real me
hides behind these lines.
Words and letters do not flatter.
Look about, before, between.
Find me, free me, and forgive
this poem, this pitiful poet.
Moonlight trickles soft light
Pouring from Milky Way
Illuminating gold silent night
Save for fireflies dancing away
Honeysuckle breeze enticing
Blue butterfly sleeps in red rose
Vision of brown owl exciting
Hunting with razor sharp toes
Holy Told-ye-o, I can’t belief
in the hot blustering sun, my pore rose
felt to the difficult ground, droopping it’s head and leafs
oh my pore pore pore rose. I am afeared its toast.
You rilly think it deservd this?
For heavens sack, it didn’t naught.
I loved that melliflous flour like I love my too kids.
I cant belief the weigh human beans with no apathy laught
about it dyeing!
Love is a kaleidoscope spinning in me
Colors are moods under a rainbow unique
We have soul ties as feelings run free
Like a kite hearts fly high in blue breeze
I see your red face it reads like a book
White words I say trying best to hook
Your loyalty as royalty a glance I took
Through rose colored glass by a brook
Brown eyes that feast on summer silhouette
Seeing you at peace in love there’s no threat
Offer you my hand you never have to guess
Love gave us a chance to be our very best
Rose colored glass I see your kind heart
Finds me at last we shall not purple part
Walking side by side in sun or under stars
Our lavender love is the most beautiful art
Beyond despair and off the pale
Our better day will come
To shed some rain upon the vale
Where you and I are from
It would be nice to see the place
I’ve known so well before
But is it mine, that old man’s face?
A tall slim lady at the door
Is that you, darling? And you say
Of course it’s me, who else?
I’m here again with you to stay
To talk about your health
To tell you news, to sing you songs
To share with you this room
Just look at my new yellow rose
Tomorrow it will bloom!
It’s love that makes existence an existence
Love is a piece of art that offers the best plan
The art of you shows up, it knows no distance
Intercreated, we have done the best we can
I never doubted our time and place
We were so specialized in living for art’s sake
No sign of mystery was covering our case
It went so natural, there wasn’t a mistake
Here in this garden, which is our cathedral
Your Coral Reef’s an icon, heals all wounds
Alone again, I’m praying by the wall
I’m privileged to watch the Coral blooms..
If Homer knew Rose, then she'd be the face,
that launched a thousand ships. And the walls of Troy,
which the Greeks tore down, would not fall from grace
if kings and the gods weren't pawns to destroy.
If Rose were Helen, her face would launch ten-
thousand ships—and enlist ten kingdoms more.
For Homer never knew, nor could imagine,
how fairer Rose makes Helen's beauty poor.
But, unlike Homer, I've gazed upon Rose:
her everlasting beauty is greater. Time
can never erase her feature or her pose,
so long as this poem endures as my rhyme!
And so, if Homer knew Rose (like I know her),
Troy would still stand: and have lasted forever!
I dream of roses blooming bright,
multi-colored in the sunlight
Delicate petals to be felt,
waiting for all the snow to melt
I dream of roses blooming bright,
bursting with truth is such a sight
Sharp thorns maintain protection
when pain feels like a dissection
I dream of roses blooming bright,
from things inside having insight
Waiting for a garden to show
how beauty grows from dirty ground
I smell roses and hear no sound
I dream of roses blooming bright,
My senses tell me it's alright
I'm in the garden, roses climb
It's only a matter of time
Heidi Sands
2/24/26
* 8 Syllables
(C)opyright
Come and see,
the big bright red and pink bee.
She is sitting on a flower of yellow with glee,
eating crackers with warm brie.
Look the angelic butterfly is on one knee,
is she making a plea?
Come and see,
the orange grasshopper is pouring rose tea.
For you and for me,
in China flowered cups under the oak tree.
This fun dream I do not want to flee,
but I really need to pee.
Beauteous, osmotic, slow motion cognition,
unfolds in linear time, petal by petal,
borne by causation of bliss ignition,
living light that in each node does gently settle.
There is no seeking and therefore no haste,
with body-mind offering no resistance,
that as divine magnetism makes heart chaste,
witness consciousness feels one with existence.
I am here.
You are far -
way out there.
Please come near.
I'm a rose -
silly bee.
Trust your nose.
Come to me.
Roses
Grow
Slow
Let's Minichu on Flowering Poetry Contest
2/2/2026
Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani
My heart, sad. A blue thorny rose.
Poisoned petals, cold. Food for crows.
Cheating from afar,
promises promises, how weak.
Liar, sliced, split among the creek.
and yet here we are.
As we lay prostrate
Tabula rasa-blank page
Word play we engage
Sleight of hand we write
Together with tongue magic
Comic and tragic
Poetic dual
Like the bards of Vienna
We've burnt sienna
We foster and play
With our words and our phrasing
Not mean, not praising
We engage with rhyme
Each other's druthers, "Respect!"
To urge, not neglect
Sometimes we flirt and
Sometimes we fling dirt, but me
Cajolery, you
Sully the bully
Flatter, not as indicters
We are cowriters
So in this haiku
I don't offer you some prose
But hand you a rose