Rose Simile Poems

Life is like a rose;
it has its thorns, as well as,
Sweet petaling days:-
...

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Beauty is like a blooming rose,
A breathtaking sight from head to toes.
With petals soft and delicate,
A fragrance so enchanting and great.

It shines like the sun...

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		I.

A bard and swan, I love thee, Rose:
     the one for whom I pen this song
that trills a note which sweetly...

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"Two doves in white flying, feathers glow beneath the morning's rainbow colors"
–	Charles Messina

The two fly smoothly side by side
through the shimmering shades of morn.
Their spotless...

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I liken a beautiful poem to a sweet-smelling rose
Somehow it roots in the heart, and there it stays,
Word to word, line by line -- ...

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*Image of Paradox of a Mindfoolness.


Irreconcilable Paradox

The midnight sun casts about clear shadows amidst a
     twilight noon, 'tis yesterday.
The windy gale...

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I'm an insider,
Locked up within the walls of my mind,
Wandering around within my head,
With many other me; each with his own advice…
In a clear language,...

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No lie, I'd be in grave trouble, 
               Should you slip...

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Resemblance
by Michael R. Burch

Take this geode with its rough exterior—
crude-skinned, brilliant-hearted ...
a diode of amethyst—wild, electric;
its sequined cavity—parted, revealing.
Find in its fire all brittle passion,
each...

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ALL I WANT
ALL I NEED
MY ONLY WISH IS TO BE NEEDED BY YOU
IF YOU NEED ME NOW
IF YOU NEED ME LATER
I'LL BE THERE TO MAKE...

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Monitoring self,
nature made her decisions:
disaster rained down…

The water rose—
Life sank beneath the level;
hope floated above…

Like Noah, we wait…
flooding water standing still—
Vultures roost on wires....

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The end of our dreams
flow in shattered discord
like a wineglass overturned
In our fruitless searches
bereavement impales
as we pour the bottle on the floor
Watching each drop
collect and...

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Out of the darkness of night
crept the dawn.
Steaming with thirst, 
the dry mouth sun rose—
inebriating itself with morning
dew—leaving sparkling stars of green
scattered across the quilted...

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There, resting in stoic frame, it
reflected its sheen surface; glowing 
like a stilled black water river—The stage
mocking banks at high tide.

Ebony rowed keloids rose in-between
marshmallow...

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Time ticks on
and I am its minutes
crafting the hour
of poetic germination.

No longer will I write words
reminiscent of willow-like catkins.

But shall bloom true poetic flowers
whose petals...

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