black rose petals fall
a dark veil for our dead
love transcends the loss

Rose
Poem
Roses are sweet, but not petit,

They never dry out, as they fly in,

Precious for the house of those, who are good,

Pleasing for the house of those, who are special,

They never thought of encountering a lost rose,

Who was tossed away,

For being dried-up all of a sudden,

As they notice its specialty,

And that it’s not impoverished

Down they went to help the seed of the same specialty,

Rose, they met,

Precious to those who are good, with the identical rose,

Pleasing to those who are special, with the identical rose,

Then they go underneath the ground

They will meet,

The seed of same rose,

All with the help of the, identical rose

For just another beginning of a continuing course.

Source: https://poemtheart.com/rose/
(Sarah Shahzad  JULY, 2019)

Red Rose
Opened its petals
Invited butterfly
Come my sweet nectar awaits you
First bloom.
22/9/2019

A single rose
Within this garden grows
A single rose
With bright red blooms
Like a great fire
My heart is consumed
For the knowledge that it holds
By the beauty of this rose
Perhaps it knows of a love that may be
Either for you
Or for me
For this we wait and see
We stand upon our toes
For only the rose truly knows

Roses are red,
My carnations are too...

Today
Many roses will be plucked
    But
Their plucking will bring together
Many hearts forever
This is a unique kind of sacrifice
Which in human seen never
  This should be essence of learning from rose and  practiced over.

The bouquet of flowers
Your note attached
Flew into my arms
In a tall vase to match
Their dying embrace
As you wrote to me
Fell deep inside
Are petals you see

That still smell
Oh so beautifully
Even though
They were drying
Then dying
Oh so subtly

conquer me
with your words,
for I am a poet
     of soul
my mind as open
as my spread thighs
my lotus aching
to welcome
your sword of gold
Unsheathe.
Come close.

until there is no light
between us
for inside grows
a luminance,
             ever-burning
as sharp as ghost pepper
as soothing as
spilt milk
on petalsilk skin
as nourishing as
the stillness
of secret ponds
let us spin our tongues
into lava flowers
as we call forth courage
from the sunken
mists
   of
       time