Rose Tree Poems

I started out as a pretty rose bud,
the rains are coming maybe even a flood.
Then the bright sun will come out,
my pedals open up without...

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Spice tea is for me,  
hot with honey on a cold winter's day.  
Pretty pink rose cups,  
are filled to the top...

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~ Oh  Wondrous  Christmas  Day ~
 ( The Tree)


~O~


Day
Of  joy
Filled  with Love
Celebration
Birth of our Savior
Time of cheer and good will
World...

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Shelves filled with all kinds of books,
will take a plain wall and make it pretty,
this makes real beauty for you and I.


Maybe some hot rose...

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As a child, 
I loved to watch Grandpa build. 
His basement workshop, 
was filled with tools. 
Tools hanging on every wall, 
wood neatly stacked in...

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the hapless toad
who croaked a verse
and moved the trees around him

did sway the branches
sway the leaves
at the most profound of meaning

and too did cry 
the...

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Car gliding gently, whirling down 
Mountain engine idling fine 
Tall pines flying in circles
Going on for a circumnavigatingly long time
Around the world, no houses
Around the...

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In a pretty rose garden we were having tea,                      the butterflies were kissing the flowers...

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A pair of dark crystals gaze
in a sea of white innocence
The bright light's a wisdom ablaze
Unlike anything in the dark familiar 

Five laces of warmth...

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I was a fashionable horticulturist, for elegant flowers keep eternally in style,
Like the saffron sun, coming and going, always causing dark skies to smile.

Plants were...

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Quote By Poet: "A Rose Garden and Tea Time Go Together."

Tea time is for me,
sweetened by the big honey bee.
I love hot tea with crackers...

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Two parakeets, perched on a tree,
Their vibrant feathers dance free.
With beaks chirping, they seem to be
Engrossed in a conversation, just as you foresee

Intrigued, I pause...

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a china tea cup 
pretty pink roses painted 
sits waiting for me 



tea with cream~sugar 
rose scented to match the cup 
warm and delicious...

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As I near the stratosphere, I let loose
an untamed, raw rainbow

I pull on the tattered, worn ropes
of my hand-sewn hot-air balloon across
the hidden boreal quarry...

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Grandma has a pretty flower garden,                   ...

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