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This King’s Road
My rose petal garden
As I pick myself up from my roots.
I shake and shiver,
Jitter and jive my way through
This living almanac                  of fate:
Some Velvet Morning in my cup
Of coffee,
     Some luck,
     And a mission          to create.
Steve Page Apr 7
Roses can be White
Yellow or shades of Pink
But the Red are more expensive
Or so florists like to think

The seeds look very similar
Whenever you plant your borders
But once they show their truer form
It's too late to change your order
It's Spring.  And my thoughts return to gardens.  If you see anything deep and meaningful here, be sure to let me know.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 28
Never shows the hand
but gives a rose.
Leaves up to you
with your views
with your thoughts!
Tiana Mar 18
Oh my rose in bell jar!
From time to time I watch you from afar,
Keeping you in my peripheral vision
avoiding the precision
to acknowledge your decaying red;

But I notice
You've become more lively
in this unbearable gray time,
Tell me
is it your favourite crime
to mock my remaining solitude?
Isn't suggesting doubtful hope
to a dying person start of a cruel dispute?

Ah! I've known that cruelty you're trying so hard to resurrect,
You were the witness once
And You know he was the only one
That ever charming prince on a white horse
Seemed like a promising escape from my fancy confinement, eh?

With a swooning smile he bought my hospitality
And I fell in hope,
He claimed he had never seen such a beauty
Oh I wish I told him then
this beauty will last
till her awaited twenty first;
Forbidden to leave the cage
doomed with a witch's rage;

That could've spared me
from this additional catastrophe
of heartbreak;

Let me continue;

Soon shy smiles and secret glances
bloomed into hearty laughs and sensual dances
And I had never felt more beautiful in anyone's presence;

My gloomy fort now welcomed these festive winds
And I giddily waited for my blossoming spring ;

But somebody should've told me that nothing feels bitter
than the failed exchange of hearts ;

You see,
I gave him colours
but with that he painted another visage from his past,
Love rekindled in his heart and it was me left with burns and scars;

But instead of blood there were sparkles
that kept my vision lighted and filled my imaginary with scenes from dreamy novels;
And I got addicted these mocking hopes again;

So, my dear rose in bell jar!
Tell me are these imaginations bewitching you too?
Are you blushing or are you angry? You're being too red to give me a  clue;
An attempt at retelling of Beauty and Beast
We living as stars . ✨ But only we don't fall, all night ball, like stars ✨ we own all night under the moon 🎑
light, charging my Star light. I wanna shine bright .
Black rose  grew from the sky. My star shine bright I could feel the aura°. Luminous light like
zillion stars make my light shine, my star 🌟 glowing .
Fortune is a kin. With Money I'm twining. *Under the moon light charging my Star light.🥀🥀 - C9fm
A look at a dark and shine moonlight, on the peak 🗻 of sky. Sitting below, getting high by the moon light, with a smoky nostrils, charging by fire inside.
JKirin Feb 28
A rose's vine
is cold as it twists,
wraps around your wrists.
It's yours; it's a lie—
the blossom of love.
It's crushed by your fists.
The thorns pierce you through,
to your deepest core—
to the bones.
It cuts, burns.
This love is a gift
you never asked for.
about love
Shofi Ahmed Feb 20
The moon amidst
the celebrations of stars
still in its proverbial stance
only the eye no fingers!

If there ever a moment of flower
let it be today the rose
in the tips of the fingers!
Shofi Ahmed Jan 30
Pure beauty
Atop hills of thorns
A rose
Full stop.
Tania Dec 2022
That single rose wrapped in a plastic package
Brought me confusion and false hope.
The way you talked to me, looked, noticed small details,
Supported when I felt overwhelmed and lost.
Oh god, my heart burnt out in fire
When I confessed…
The ashes that remain still hurt.
This poem is about unrequited love and the way it can hurt.
Shevek Appleyard Dec 2022
the city is pink
the clouds are close
the sun will sink
pubs will flood
pavement splattered
with tipsy chatter
from ****** clubs
glass shattered
and mornings knackered

the strangers that find me strange
The heave of an alleyway in a drunken sway
drunken wails
pool cues
ques for loos
beer gardens
feeling disheartened

potions creating feeling
to disobey trust
emotions blinded
by unnecessary lust

addictive needs
swift gulps of a remedy
morning bleeds
and my head is the enemy

delaying the night to be over
as i wander slow pace
the thought of being sober
the people and the look of my face

the clouds cry as I stare at the sky
I turn down to the puddles to untangle my troubles
the endless struggle to this puzzle

the sky is grey
I run to the train
panting in dismay
at a city full of pain
in a happiness debt
that the journey might reset

I blink

I missed my train
but the city is in pink
I live to love it
I make myself think
so I head to the bar
and I buy a drink
a rose tinted city at sunset

another old old poem I dug up recently :)
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