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Annika J Jan 2019
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Marshmallow factories
Are covered in goo

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Not all of these
Are going to rhyme

Roses are red
Violets are purple
Whoever wrote that
Was an idiot

Roses are red
Violets are blue
My favorite is Discord
Who used to be Q

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you count in binary
You'll never have 2

Roses are red
Violets are blue
MEEP

Roses are red
Violets are blue, da ba dee da ba daa...

Roses are black
Violets are black
Everything is black
I'm Batman

Roses are blue
Violets are red
Something is wrong
With my head

The Math section is red
Social Studies is blue
I have too much homework
I want to cry

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Please don't get stuck
In the spilled glue

Roses are purple
Violets are green
I'm just here revving
My limousine

Roses are red
They have thorns
Don't touch them

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to turn this
Into a haiku

Roses are crimson
Violets are the fairest blue
And so fair are you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
That was pretty good
For being written on the fly

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Ridiculous Inflatable
Swan Thing

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I need to sleep
No

you are so And
sweet is Sugar
blue are Violets
red are Roses

Roses are red
Violets are blue
There is no try
Do not or do

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Dab on those haters

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Think I'll paint them
On my shoe

Roses are red, dilly dilly
Violets are blue
Is this copyrighted, dilly dilly
I have no clue

Lavender's blue
Lavender's green
I store my sanity
In a canteen

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm too cynical
And yet too cheesy

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Spellcheck doesn't know meep?!?

Roses are rosy
Violets are violet
I want to be
A submarine pilot

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Something something
Pikachu

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Illuminati
They're watching you

Gryffindor's red
Ravenclaw's blue
WHY IS IT AN EAGLE
NOT A RAVEN

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Be mine
I'm desperate

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't want romance
Stop asking

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm running low on ideas
We're almost through

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Don't eat too much

Roses are red
Never mind
Life's too short
Eat all the sugar you can find

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You're still here?
Good job you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Happy Valentines Day
Bye
Co-written by some of my family members.
Roses are red Violets are blue.
Nothing in this crazy world could keep me from loving you.
Roses are red Violets are blue, the sun shows this good looks, but true good looks is in you. Roses are red violets are blue, I've never met anyone as hot as you! It make me think chilli is hot and so are you!
Roses are red violets are blue, I never knew love until I found you!

Roses are red Violets are blue. My life would be HELL! If I didn’t have you in my arms.
Roses are red violets are blue, I'm the one who'll make all your dreams come true! Cause you are making all my dreams come true too!

Roses are red violets are blue, Sugar is sweet and so are you! Roses are red violets are blue, I feel so lost without you in my mind and soul! Roses are red violets are blue. Don’t cast me away cause “I love you!” But I know you will not cast me away ways. Roses are red violets are blue, These lips can't wait to kiss you again and again!

Roses are red violets are blue. I love you and finally this is so true!! Roses are red violets are blue, I'd do anything to be with you!
Roses are red violets are blue, I'd rather be spending my time with you! Roses are red violets are blue, I ain't never gonna love no-one more than you! Roses are red violets are blue, My heart is badly broken without you!
Roses are red violets are blue, I love you for everything you do!

Roses are red violets are blue, lets shear this day together, and sing and scream YAAAY!! Roses are red violets are blue. I just can’t stop keep myself from thinking of you.

AND!!
Roses are red violets are blue, I don't want no-one if I can't have you!
Roses are red violets are blue, there's only one-way to say this, but “I LOVE YOU!”

Cause Roses are red violets are blue!
AND

I will be by your side until my heart is black and blue!!
REY Jan 2018
Roses are red;
Violets are blue
But nothing is bluer
Than my heart without “You."

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
The tears I shed
Were because of you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
My heart had bled
With a tragic hue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
My love was sacred
And I gave it to you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
And you just wasted
My love so true.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
Leaving me wrecked
Did not make you rue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
All of our flowers
Lost its hue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
My life is gone
And so are you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
You are the sin
That I love to do.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
I can now see nothing
But the bluest blue.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
I hope I can find
The way back to you.

Roses are red;
Violets are blue
I hope I can see again
Your beautiful hue.

Because roses are red
And violets are blue
But nothing is bluer
Than my heart without “You.”
Lol
SexySloth Apr 2013
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Corpse's in the fridge,
Mum smells it too?

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Get punched in the eye,
Don't kick me back too.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I really like you.
Oh you don't? I said
Mbluhchuckschmoobs.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Zebras being all high, riding giraffes
They think they're so cool

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
When thirsty,
don't drink the water in the loo.


Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Pardon me dear, but
STOP CALLING VIOLETS BLUE

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Boy you're got to like me so much
To read this whole poem through.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I say whatever I think
And don't care about you

Roses are red,
I am so bland,
Violets are blue,
This really makes no sense.

Roses are red,
Why is everyone talking about roses?
Violets are blue,
Oh great, violets are blue again. Jesus.

Roses are blue,
Violets are red,
I want to be different,
^See what the above statement says.
Buzz Feb 2014
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Candies are sweet
But not as sweet as you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Candies are junkfood
So, it is unhealthy for you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Too much of 'you'
Diabetes may take due

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Eventhough you are sweet
Doesn't mean I have fallen for you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
There are many fishes in the ocean
And ***** animals in the zoo

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I prefer bread than candy
At least they give me more energy for the business I do

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you haven't notice
I'm done of you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Love is a complicated mystery
To solve it, there is no clue
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
Roses are red and wood violets are blue
I love you, Babe, like the dawn loves the dew
Oh, I love you, Babe, like the dawn loves the dew
I'm bringing home roses and violets too
I'm bringing home roses and violets for you

I'm sorry I left, that I never came through
I'm bringing you flowers— seems all I can do
I just had to walk. I just had to think
I just had to find my way back from the brink
And now I'm coming home with the smell of fresh dew
And rosebuds I've stolen, like I once stole you

These roses are red and sweet violets are blue
I love you, Babe, like the dawn loves the dew
Oh, I love you, Babe, like the dawn and the dew
I'm bringing home roses and violets for you
I'm bringing home roses, wood violets and dew
.
Blue Mar 2018
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
but according to what I learned in science about how light works...
That's not really true...
You see, when light hits something,
say a leaf, it looks green.
But in reality it's every colour but the one you see.

Roses are green
Violets are green
The amount of vivid colours in this garden made me throw up.

Roses are red,
violets are red,
I lit my garden on fire.

Roses are blue
Violets are red
What are colours again?

Roses are red,
violets are red,
someone killed my cat.

Roses are yellow,
Violets are purple,
I think I might be colourblind.

Roses are grey,
Violets are also grey,
woof.

Roses are dead.
Violets are dead.
I'm a horrible gardener...

My name is Dave,
Roses are Paul,
It hurt my head,
when I walked into that wall.
The poet's guide to weirdly dark roses are red poems.
All of these are 100% original... except for the last one... one of my friends wrote it.
Shelby Lynn Mar 2014
roses are red, violets are blue
sugar is sweet, and perhaps so are you
now the roses have wilted, the violets dead
the sugar bowl's empty, and my wrist are stained red,
the sun isn't shining, the skies aren't clear
there's no silver lining, cause your no longer here
rain keeps on pouring, there's no end in sight
your laying there frozen, so far from the light
your beauty's unreal, your smile the sun
but time cant be turned, nor your actions undone
the words that you wrote, which only I read
"I love you so much; please don't cry when I'm dead"
a bond that we formed, a love that ran deep
a pain that we shared, a friend I could keep
I wanted to hold you, wipe the tears from your eyes
been there the moment you said you goodbye
I want to forget but most times I don't
I want to let go but I know I wont
tears on my face, memories burned in my head
the roses have wilted, the violets are dead
I didn't write this, I just wanted to share.
Skogen Feb 2011
The best things in life are free, a sunny day, you and I, lying backs to the sky,  thinkin of what we have and what we had, and what we will, a smile creeps to my face as I look at you and say

Chorus:
Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you
Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you

The clock tics and tocs, together we walk, sit and talk, time passes by,
My mind flies the sun lives and dies to rise again and again and again.
Like the breaths we take and the choices we make I’m gonna jump in the lake that is your soul, swim through our lives and dive into our dreams.  Heaven is on earth today, because..

Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you
Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you

The good Dr said:  “Today you are you, that is truer than true.  There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”  He was right as can be, like a snowflake your unique and one of a kind, The duplicates can me made night and day to say what you say and walk like you walk but no one can do what you do and i say:

Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you
Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you


Like a rusted root you send me on my way, the brightest part of any day you add the color to my photographs and the reality to my dreams.  You fill my sails with wind and light the way through my darkest nights.  I lay alone and awake and I think:

Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you
Hey you, Roses are red, violets are blue I just wanna be with you


Winter fades and summer springs, just long enough for the leaves to fall and bring me it all, your hand in mine, and like the seasons we weather it all and while all the colors change the constant remains the same,

I just wanna be with you.
Dr Seuss quote
Kon Grin May 2017
Throw me in the chartreuse fields
So I can leave my pain behind
Violets and Daffodils will turn
Me into their kids

Buy me out of sable walls
So I can see the other side
Violets and Daffodils will kiss
My spine

Say white, say blue
On a spring afternoon

Whisper out loud
O-hoo

Take me out for a walk on moon
So i can plant lovat' on stone.
Violets and daffodils will grow
On a pale ball.

Lie with me on frosty grass
Keep your feet above the stars.
Violets and daffodils will pass
But we can last.
Courtesy of Iwalf. Text written in collaboration of @kon_grin @greatbigcongratulations and @wonderwall.***
Madison Jun 2017
Roses are red, violets are blue
Sugar is sweet and perhaps so are you
But the roses have wilted, the violets are dead
The sugar bowl's empty, and your wrists stained red
The sun isn't shining, the sky isn't clear
There's no silver lining cause you're no longer here
Rain keeps on pouring, there's no end in sight
You're laying there frozen, so far from the light
Your beauty's unreal, your smile the sun
But time can't be turned, nor your actions undone
The words that you wrote that I only read
"I love you so much, please don't cry when I'm dead"
The bond that we shared; a love that ran deep
The pain that we shared; a friend I could keep
I wanted to hold you to wipe the tears from your eyes
Been there the moment you said your goodbye
I want to forget but most times I don't
I want to let you go but I know that I won't
Tears on my face, memories burned in my head
The roses are wilted and the violets are dead.
Star Gazer Mar 2016
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't know what I would do without you.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
None of their beauty compares to you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I can see a future and it involves you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
So far every last part has the word you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
That's because I'm always thinking about you
Depression

Roses Are Red
Violets Are blue
help me depression
attacking me again

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
where i could find
a place that could
no one see me dying?

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
i love my life but
im weak to fight
for it

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
help me please
i need you cool
me down

roses are Red
Violets Are blue
please i need you

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
help your self "my
mom said"

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
Mom? help me please?
No sweetie help your self
without me!

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
but mom? you leaving
me too?

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
Thank you mom
you give me a reason
again not to fight i want
to be with you in heaven

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Goodbye world
goodbye to this
**** society

~End~
Thank you for reading🥺💖
Mikaila Sep 2018
I fight it
Every time I fight it
And I lose
Spectacularly.

It takes time to accept defeat.
I struggle.
It pulls me under and I claw my way out
Over and over.
I am persistent
But things are changing-
The world stops behaving the way it’s supposed to
The earth shifts beneath my feet,
Churning.
Gravity starts to pull me to new places.
I am so comfortable with
Rock bottom
It’s safe down there-
Barren and cool, restful.
Every time, I fight to remain,
Every time, I fall to my knees
Dig my fingers into the ground and hold on,
Praying
To a god I neither trust nor believe in
Because I know what is coming
What always comes
And I know what will be left behind
When it is finished.

Handfuls of soil come up in my hands and bloom with sharp life-
Violets.
Roots like daggers find the lines of my palms.
They demand
Blood.
Turmoil spreads inside of me
And I am torn away.
The world has become an ocean
With no surface and no bottom
And I am thrown through it
Stumbling
Pressing my hands against the rough walls of buildings
Here, take some of this
I can’t keep it in here with me,
I was never meant to be
So vibrant inside.
Vines creep out from between bricks
Turning their tiny faces to the sunlight.
They will not remain
Small.
I can hear the groaning of steel and mortar as I am pulled away.
Everywhere my gaze falls things are changing
The city blooms
With fearful life-
The chaos my skin cannot contain
For I am made of glass
And I hold this feeling like the storm it is,
Something that could break me
And leave me scattered and glittering on the sidewalk.

The light is getting in from everywhere
And I am not prepared for its touch.
I tremble.

Maybe there is no god
But there is this
And I understand the need for it to be known,
The need to worship something
This terrible
And this sacred.
Flashes of emotion pierce me like fangs
JoyFearRageHopeGrief
Little snakes writhing.
I try to soothe them,
And they twist about my head
Whispering your name
With voices like sand.
It falls to the ground and takes root at my feet-
Violets.
If I were to look into a mirror
Would I turn to stone
Or would I grow roots
Too
And finally be
Still?

I burn inside, struggling to keep my footing,
All this power
And none of it’s mine.
I am its vessel and its restraint
And it
Presses
Out.

Nobody sees this in me.
Outwardly I am quiet.
I let the world push me to the next place, the next hour, the next task.
I ignore this new passion that turns in me like smoke
This need to create and destroy
This agony of feeling.
But every so often
I will meet the eyes of a stranger by accident
And see shock there
And I will know they glimpsed the truth of me.
I am afraid I will see that fear in your eyes someday
The fear of burning cities
A fear I couldn’t blame you for
Because it courses through me like molten silver
Whenever I sit in a silent room with only my thoughts.

There!-
On the corner of a subway platform
Clinging to the stone
Vividly blue:
Violets.

In French there is a term
L'Appel Du Vide
The Call Of The Void
It means that it is in the nature of human beings
When they look down from a high place
To desire the fall
And that the desire is what makes them afraid,
And not the height.

I have been staring down
From high up
Like a coiled spring,
Like a struck match burning to the quick.
I have been waiting to fall into this feeling and lose myself
Toes curled along the edge
Fingertips tingling
Breathing deep
Suspended.
My soul resists, struggling like a trapped moth-
It remembers
Even if I don’t
The pale, flat shards of myself
The years it takes to mend
The jagged edges that never really fit anywhere
Ever again.
It fears you
And it fears
Me.
But I stand staring amid the chaos,
Because here finally is a direction,
A path to follow
A choice that I can own-
The only one that ever really mattered.
The pull is strong.
I spread my arms
As I always knew I would
And lean forward
Hoping that I have one more miracle left in me.

The city blooms
And, pushing up between every grate and out from behind every crumbling stoop
Are violets.
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window--
Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds,
And tiny violets, and wreaths of ivy?
See how the pattern clings to the gleaming edges!
They're works of art--minutely seen and felt,
Each petal done devoutly.  Is it failure
To spend your blood like this?

Study them . . . you will see there, in the porcelain,
If you stare hard enough, a sort of swimming
Of lights and shadows, ghosts within a crystal--
My brain unfolding!  There you'll see me sitting
Day after day, close to a certain window,
Looking down, sometimes, to see the people . . .

Sometimes my wife comes there to speak to me . . .
Sometimes the grey cat waves his tail around me . . .
Goldfish swim in a bowl, glisten in sunlight,
Dilate to a gorgeous size, blow delicate bubbles,
Drowse among dark green weeds.  On rainy days,
You'll see a gas-light shedding light behind me--
An eye-shade round my forehead.  There I sit,
Twirling the tiny brushes in my paint-cups,
Painting the pale pink rosebuds, minute violets,
Exquisite wreaths of dark green ivy leaves.
On this leaf, goes a dream I dreamed last night
Of two soft-patterned toads--I thought them stones,
Until they hopped!  And then a great black spider,--
Tarantula, perhaps, a hideous thing,--
It crossed the room in one tremendous leap.
Here,--as I coil the stems between two leaves,--
It is as if, dwindling to atomy size,
I cried the secret between two universes . . .
A friend of mine took hasheesh once, and said
Just as he fell asleep he had a dream,--
Though with his eyes wide open,--
And felt, or saw, or knew himself a part
Of marvelous slowly-wreathing intricate patterns,
Plane upon plane, depth upon coiling depth,
Amazing leaves, folding one on another,
Voluted grasses, twists and curves and spirals--
All of it darkly moving . . . as for me,
I need no hasheesh for it--it's too easy!
Soon as I shut my eyes I set out walking
In a monstrous jungle of monstrous pale pink roseleaves,
Violets purple as death, dripping with water,
And ivy-leaves as big as clouds above me.

Here, in a simple pattern of separate violets--
With scalloped edges gilded--here you have me
Thinking of something else.  My wife, you know,--
There's something lacking--force, or will, or passion,
I don't know what it is--and so, sometimes,
When I am tired, or haven't slept three nights,
Or it is cloudy, with low threat of rain,
I get uneasy--just like poplar trees
Ruffling their leaves--and I begin to think
Of poor Pauline, so many years ago,
And that delicious night.  Where is she now?
I meant to write--but she has moved, by this time,
And then, besides, she might find out I'm married.
Well, there is more--I'm getting old and timid--
The years have gnawed my will.  I've lost my nerve!
I never strike out boldly as I used to--
But sit here, painting violets, and remember
That thrilling night.  Photographers, she said,
Asked her to pose for them; her eyes and forehead,--
Dark brown eyes, and a smooth and pallid forehead,--
Were thought so beautiful.--And so they were.
Pauline . . .  These violets are like words remembered . . .
Darling! she whispered . . . Darling! . . . Darling! . . . Darling!
Well, I suppose such days can come but once.
Lord, how happy we were! . . .

Here, if you only knew it, is a story--
Here, in these leaves.  I stopped my work to tell it,
And then, when I had finished, went on thinking:
A man I saw on a train . . .  I was still a boy . . .
Who killed himself by diving against a wall.
Here is a recollection of my wife,
When she was still my sweetheart, years ago.
It's funny how things change,--just change, by growing,
Without an effort . . .  And here are trivial things,--
A chill, an errand forgotten, a cut while shaving;
A friend of mine who tells me he is married . . .
Or is that last so trivial?  Well, no matter!

This is the sort of thing you'll see of me,
If you look hard enough.  This, in its way,
Is a kind of fame.  My life arranged before you
In scrolls of leaves, rosebuds, violets, ivy,
Clustered or wreathed on plate and cup and platter . . .
Sometimes, I say, I'm just like John the Baptist--
You have my head before you . . . on a platter.
Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
i just want to say
i love you

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
but we cant be
together because
you inlove with her

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
all i can do now is
just pray for the both
of you

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
maybe We're not
meant for each other

Roses are Red
Violets Are blue
Don't worry be
happy and im happy
too

Roses Are Red
Violets Are blue
Maybe Were meant
to be friends not a
lover
Thank you for reading💖
Keep love for youth, and violets for the spring:
  Or if these bloom when worn-out autumn grieves,
  Let them lie hid in double shade of leaves,
Their own, and others dropped down withering;
For violets suit when home birds build and sing,
  Not when the outbound bird a passage cleaves;
  Not with dry stubble of mown harvest sheaves,
But when the green world buds to blossoming.
Keep violets for the spring, and love for youth,
  Love that should dwell with beauty, mirth, and hope:
    Or if a later sadder love be born,
  Let this not look for grace beyond its scope,
But give itself, nor plead for answering truth--
    A grateful Ruth tho' gleaning scanty corn.
Roses I despise thee,
And Violets you lied.
In deceit you left me,
Alone in the pool I cried.

Roses you promised,
Foretold and foresaw,
Violets you stood there,
Frozen while I was raw,

Red promised love,
But blue spoke of sorrow,
Which to believe?
The question left me hollow.

Roses you are thorned,
And Violets your colour says it all,
Your appearance screams I was warned,
And yet I still took the fall.

Roses red I despise thee,
And Violets blue you lied.
You never told me all to see,
But I knew pain wasn’t forever as I cried.
Robert Guerrero Jul 2013
Roses are red
Violets are blue
What do I do
When I'm lost without you

You brought color
Into my black and white world
Life flourished with smiles
Every time you walked by

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't feel dead
Everything is clear in my head

Fog swept in
You whisk it away with a kiss
You blew to me in the haze
That hit me with deadly accuracy

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I should be dead
But I'd rather live to love you
Not better than the original or any other remix to it but the message still gets through.
Madisen Kuhn May 2013
i look at you
and i can see it
in your face
you think you hide it,
but i see you

i see the hurt
the dark circles beneath your eyes
and the quiet plea
dancing on your bottom lip,
too afraid to be voiced
too afraid to be heard
because you’re too afraid
of being hurt

and i just want to take you
and wrap you up in my arms
hold you, console you
tell you things that you’ll believe,
but you don’t seem to believe
anything, anymore
because you have been deceived
too many times

so i’ll just look at you
and see the pain in your fake smile,
and i’ll smile back

and i’ll hear the attempted deception
when you tell me that you’re just tired,
and i’ll say me too

i know you’re broken inside

violets are blue,
and so are you
CA Guilfoyle Aug 2013
In sunshine or in shadow how rich the loamy soil
light of earth, dream of rebirth greening
lilac buds and bluebells ring
magenta hills, aubretia spring
of burning fire
A mossy path of violets, soft my feet to wander
muscari blue the garden dew
birds to drink of leafy puddles
bluest skies go grey, drifts so swift a rain cloud by
to water quick the daffodil, silk umbrellas yellow
and comes alas the greening grass
robins hopping, weaving
Spring unfurls in flowery births
tiny violets upon the earth
Boi Jul 2018
Roses want blood,
delicacy, and
grace.

Flowers want life,
Love, and
care.

Doomed are those
who treat their roses
as if flowers
bleeding
until drought

Long live those
who treat their flowers
as if roses
giving
until downpour
know your botany
complexify May 2016
Violets
The word tingles me
Somehow.

I don't know
But it feels weird.
To me
Violets roses are
Definitely more beautiful
Than red ones.

I feel like
Everything is a metaphor
Including you.
You're violet
And you're more beautiful
Than the blood running
In my veins.

But then
The sky is black at night
And violets
Would be swallowed.
Influenced.
You'd turn into black
Even if it's only for the night.

Metaphors inside my head
Irrelevant, illogical.
I imagined you
Turning into a radiant violet
Rebirthed at dawn
Majestic.
No notes for this one.
Donna Earle Mar 2012
At six years old she picked the wild violets here
in the huge and wonderful expanse of her
grandparents big garden.
She knew no fear,no worry,no torment at all.
All she had to accomplish that day was to fill her little fist
with a bunch of the wild,wet,tantalizing,
blue and white violets.
... Everywhere she looked she saw them...
nodding like dreamers in the tall,damp grass.
just out of reach
and where they grew was wet,
and her shoes got cold and damp as water crept up
and touched her.
She could hear people coming to her grandfather's mill,getting jobs done,
and stopping to chat.
It was the background of this hot day in June.
Grasshoppers and crickets were there too
as much a part of her childhood as anything else.
She thought they were amazing.
She saw her grandmother go to the store..
she was too far away to hear her call
it felt strange
and she got a little scared.
Suddenly the big garden seemed dark and and full of
monsters.
The sun went behind a cloud and sweat washed her
hot little face.
She reached mightily for a few
more wet violets
and raced to her grandfather and
the sweet smell of the sawdust and wood.
Saved by childhood.
..this is a true story....
Randy Ray Price Feb 2019
Roses are red.
Violets are, violet .
But blue is what they said
And I just don’t know why yet.

Roses are red.
Violets are still violet.
And don’t ever forget
That I love your, eye lid.

Roses are still red.
Oops I guess violets ARE blue ;)
(Insert something cheesy)
Cuz baby I LOVE you!
Trefild Aug 2019
roses are red, though they're dead
violets are blue, though they're dead too
stop reading this kind of stuff & rather start
doing something useful instead
or you've got
nothing better to do❓
roses aren't only red as well as violets aren't only blue
for your information
[who would have thought...]
but let people make their cookie-cutter rhymes while not taking
it into consideration
if I have to choose roses, I would prefer black ones
plus, I think they woulda looked dope engraved on some firearms
as for violets, they aren't really my type
but maybe to somebody else, they set some kind of vibe
LanTive Jul 2016
If you wanna get over someone you gotta jump on someone else and move on!
That's ******* true!
But, I jumped on the same person

I must be still blind
cause real beauty doesn't apply to her on the inside
she wont love me
Well, I dont give a ****!
I bet I have ****** more dead girls than her

ROSES ROCK!!!
VIOLETS ****!

Sue I want my ******* heart back

Word! Natalie's the reason there are no fairy tales in real life
Disney's out of business, *******!
Happily ever after goes to the witches!

Oh and Sarah! you can go **** yourself!
I guess Kate will die in church!
Heartless!
I must be still blind
Heartless!!!
But Nat's still one of a kind!

ROSES ROCK!!!
VIOLETS ****!

She wont love me
Well, I dont give a ****!
I am out in the Wild, Tryna make Unicorns Pregnant, cause her Violets ****!
Krisa Alcoriza Oct 2013
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Everyone's making hello poetry
So I made one too because poopy

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I see a sign that says "Explicit?"
And now I'm thinking if I should click it

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I think roses can be pink too
And violets aren't blue how stu

Roses are red
Violets are blue
This is my first poem here
Potato.
Mike Jewett Feb 2015
Moonup, shades of sangria
hazed in mothwing
      dust

motes. We wrap in
flannel, tartan Seattle
      warmth

accompanied by smudging sticks.
Batteries never charged-
      defibrillator

shock. Flatline.
You said no violets (you
      didn’t

mean it). Moondown takes
time- scores of swaying shadows
      to arc

the parsecs. Inherit starlight,
bank it, never blink; wet stones
      echo

in the noise of stars.
PERSONIFICATIONS.

Boys.            Girls.
  January.                February.
  March.                  April.
  July.                   May.
  August.                 June.
  October.                September.
  December.               November.

  Robin Redbreasts; Lambs and Sheep; Nightingale and
  Nestlings.

  Various Flowers, Fruits, etc.

  Scene: A Cottage with its Grounds.


[A room in a large comfortable cottage; a fire burning on
the hearth; a table on which the breakfast things have
been left standing. January discovered seated by the
fire.]


          January.

Cold the day and cold the drifted snow,
Dim the day until the cold dark night.

                    [Stirs the fire.

Crackle, sparkle, *****; embers glow:
Some one may be plodding through the snow
Longing for a light,
For the light that you and I can show.
If no one else should come,
Here Robin Redbreast's welcome to a crumb,
And never troublesome:
Robin, why don't you come and fetch your crumb?


  Here's butter for my hunch of bread,
    And sugar for your crumb;
  Here's room upon the hearthrug,
    If you'll only come.

  In your scarlet waistcoat,
    With your keen bright eye,
  Where are you loitering?
    Wings were made to fly!

  Make haste to breakfast,
    Come and fetch your crumb,
  For I'm as glad to see you
    As you are glad to come.


[Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at
the lattice, which January opens. The birds flutter in,
hop about the floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar
thrown to them. They have scarcely finished their meal,
when a knock is heard at the door. January hangs a
guard in front of the fire, and opens to February, who
appears with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand.]

          January.

Good-morrow, sister.

          February.

            Brother, joy to you!
I've brought some snowdrops; only just a few,
But quite enough to prove the world awake,
Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew
And for the pale sun's sake.

[She hands a few of her snowdrops to January, who retires
into the background. While February stands arranging
the remaining snowdrops in a glass of water on the
window-sill, a soft butting and bleating are heard outside.
She opens the door, and sees one foremost lamb, with
other sheep and lambs bleating and crowding towards
her.]

          February.

O you, you little wonder, come--come in,
You wonderful, you woolly soft white lamb:
You panting mother ewe, come too,
And lead that tottering twin
Safe in:
Bring all your bleating kith and kin,
Except the ***** ram.

[February opens a second door in the background, and the
little flock files through into a warm and sheltered compartment
out of sight.]

  The lambkin tottering in its walk
    With just a fleece to wear;
  The snowdrop drooping on its stalk
      So slender,--
  Snowdrop and lamb, a pretty pair,
  Braving the cold for our delight,
      Both white,
      Both tender.

[A rattling of doors and windows; branches seen without,
tossing violently to and fro.]

How the doors rattle, and the branches sway!
Here's brother March comes whirling on his way
With winds that eddy and sing.

[She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and
discloses March hastening up, both hands full of violets
and anemones.]

          February.

Come, show me what you bring;
For I have said my say, fulfilled my day,
And must away.

          March.

[Stopping short on the threshold.]

    I blow an arouse
    Through the world's wide house
  To quicken the torpid earth:
    Grappling I fling
    Each feeble thing,
  But bring strong life to the birth.
    I wrestle and frown,
    And topple down;
  I wrench, I rend, I uproot;
    Yet the violet
    Is born where I set
  The sole of my flying foot,

[Hands violets and anemones to February, who retires into
the background.]

    And in my wake
    Frail wind-flowers quake,
  And the catkins promise fruit.
    I drive ocean ashore
    With rush and roar,
  And he cannot say me nay:
    My harpstrings all
    Are the forests tall,
  Making music when I play.
    And as others perforce,
    So I on my course
  Run and needs must run,
    With sap on the mount
    And buds past count
  And rivers and clouds and sun,
    With seasons and breath
    And time and death
  And all that has yet begun.

[Before March has done speaking, a voice is heard approaching
accompanied by a twittering of birds. April comes
along singing, and stands outside and out of sight to finish
her song.]

          April.

[Outside.]

  Pretty little three
  Sparrows in a tree,
    Light upon the wing;
    Though you cannot sing
    You can chirp of Spring:
  Chirp of Spring to me,
  Sparrows, from your tree.

  Never mind the showers,
  Chirp about the flowers
    While you build a nest:
    Straws from east and west,
    Feathers from your breast,
  Make the snuggest bowers
  In a world of flowers.

  You must dart away
  From the chosen spray,
    You intrusive third
    Extra little bird;
    Join the unwedded herd!
  These have done with play,
  And must work to-day.

          April.

[Appearing at the open door.]

Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly,
Of all the flying months you're the most flying.

          March.

You're hope and sweetness, April.

          April.

            Birth means dying,
As wings and wind mean flying;
So you and I and all things fly or die;
And sometimes I sit sighing to think of dying.
But meanwhile I've a rainbow in my showers,
And a lapful of flowers,
And these dear nestlings aged three hours;
And here's their mother sitting,
Their father's merely flitting
To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers.

[As she speaks April shows March her apron full of flowers
and nest full of birds. March wanders away into the
grounds. April, without entering the cottage, hangs over
the hungry nestlings watching them.]

          April.

  What beaks you have, you funny things,
    What voices shrill and weak;
  Who'd think that anything that sings
    Could sing through such a beak?
  Yet you'll be nightingales one day,
    And charm the country-side,
  When I'm away and far away
    And May is queen and bride.

[May arrives unperceived by April, and gives her a kiss.
April starts and looks round.]

          April.

Ah May, good-morrow May, and so good-bye.

          May.

That's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh:
Your sorrow's half in fun,
Begun and done
And turned to joy while twenty seconds run.
I've gathered flowers all as I came along,
At every step a flower
Fed by your last bright shower,--

[She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with April, who
strolls away through the garden.]

          May.

And gathering flowers I listened to the song
Of every bird in bower.
    The world and I are far too full of bliss
    To think or plan or toil or care;
      The sun is waxing strong,
      The days are waxing long,
        And all that is,
          Is fair.

    Here are my buds of lily and of rose,
    And here's my namesake-blossom, may;
      And from a watery spot
      See here forget-me-not,
        With all that blows
          To-day.

    Hark to my linnets from the hedges green,
    Blackbird and lark and thrush and dove,
      And every nightingale
      And cuckoo tells its tale,
        And all they mean
          Is love.

[June appears at the further end of the garden, coming slowly
towards May, who, seeing her, exclaims]

          May.

Surely you're come too early, sister June.

          June.

Indeed I feel as if I came too soon
To round your young May moon
And set the world a-gasping at my noon.
Yet come I must. So here are strawberries
Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please;
And here are full-blown roses by the score,
More roses, and yet more.

[May, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds.]

          June.

The sun does all my long day's work for me,
  Raises and ripens everything;
I need but sit beneath a leafy tree
    And watch and sing.

[Seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum.

Or if I'm lulled by note of bird and bee,
  Or lulled by noontide's silence deep,
I need but nestle down beneath my tree
    And drop asleep.

[June falls asleep; and is not awakened by the voice of July,
who behind the scenes is heard half singing, half calling.]

          July.

     [Behind the scenes.]

Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled,
Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled!
Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow,
Each in its way has not a fellow.

[Enter July, a basket of many-colored irises slung upon his
shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate
piled full of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals
up to June, and tickles her with the grass. She wakes.]

          June.

What, here already?

          July.

                  Nay, my tryst is kept;
The longest day slipped by you while you slept.
I've brought you one curved pyramid of bloom,

                        [Hands her the plate.

Not flowers, but peaches, gathered where the bees,
As downy, bask and boom
In sunshine and in gloom of trees.
But get you in, a storm is at my heels;
The whirlwind whistles and wheels,
Lightning flashes and thunder peals,
Flying and following hard upon my heels.

[June takes shelter in a thickly-woven arbor.]

          July.

  The roar of a storm sweeps up
    From the east to the lurid west,
  The darkening sky, like a cup,
    Is filled with rain to the brink;

  The sky is purple and fire,
    Blackness and noise and unrest;
  The earth, parched with desire,
      Opens her mouth to drink.

  Send forth thy thunder and fire,
    Turn over thy brimming cup,
  O sky, appease the desire
    Of earth in her parched unrest;
  Pour out drink to her thirst,
    Her famishing life lift up;
  Make thyself fair as at first,
      With a rainbow for thy crest.

  Have done with thunder and fire,
    O sky with the rainbow crest;
  O earth, have done with desire,
    Drink, and drink deep, and rest.

[Enter August, carrying a sheaf made up of different kinds of
grain.]

          July.

Hail, brother August, flushed and warm
And scatheless from my storm.
Your hands are full of corn, I see,
As full as hands can be:

And earth and air both smell as sweet as balm
In their recovered calm,
And that they owe to me.

[July retires into a shrubbery.]

          August.

  Wheat sways heavy, oats are airy,
    Barley bows a graceful head,
  Short and small shoots up canary,
    Each of these is some one's bread;
  Bread for man or bread for beast,
      Or at very least
      A bird's savory feast.

  Men are brethren of each other,
    One in flesh and one in food;
  And a sort of foster brother
    Is the litter, or the brood,
  Of that folk in fur or feather,
      Who, with men together,
      Breast the wind and weather.

[August descries September toiling across the lawn.]

          August.

My harvest home is ended; and I spy
September drawing nigh
With the first thought of Autumn in her eye,
And the first sigh
Of Autumn wind among her locks that fly.

[September arrives, carrying upon her head a basket heaped
high with fruit]


          September.

Unload me, brother. I have brought a few
Plums and these pears for you,
A dozen kinds of apples, one or two
Melons, some figs all bursting through
Their skins, and pearled with dew
These damsons violet-blue.

[While September is speaking, August lifts the basket to the
ground, selects various fruits, and withdraws slowly along
the gravel walk, eating a pear as he goes.]

      
Kevin J Taylor Feb 2016
Sunflowers! Crowns golden!
Violets! Sweet petals, blue!
Carnations! Pinks! Whites!
         —And my Love for You!

Dahlias! Such beauty!
Tulips! Who knew!
Orchids! Red roses!
         —And my Love for You!
.
B M Clark May 2014
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I never knew love,
Until I met you.
You see my heart?
I'm giving it to you,
But you don't care,
You never cared did you?
You make jokes, smile, and laugh,
I hurt and cry and I'm dying too.
I miss you now & the way we were,
But things change, I'll never be with you.
ap Mar 2016
Love love love
Ours is like withered flowers
Because whenever I see my dark circles
Or freshly painted bruises spreading over my canvas
I see violets blooming //
Love love love
Ours is like licking flames
Because whenever I look into your eyes
Or feel the warmth of your touch leaving burn marks
I remember who painted me //
Love is not *love
at all
And I guess I'm beginning to see
That violet is your favorite color
And I am your masterpiece //
~a.p
Moss Jun 2019
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you

But the roses are wilted
The violets are dead
The sugar bowl is empty
And my wrists are stained red
AND BEHOLD!! A thing
Tumbling-hair
              picker of buttercups
                                   violets
dandelions
And the big bullying daisies
                             through the field wonderful
with eyes a little sorry
Another comes
              also picking flowers
Quentin Briscoe Sep 2012
Roses are Red
and I am Blue
Violets are Violet idiots
and Violence is subtle
until you turn Blue
or black
but I was born like that
and he was born with a turbin
and she was born with a veil
And then there were those born pale
...But what ever the matter they were born
believing that roses are red and violets are blue
not that I should love you too..
But just my brothers and sisters...
not anything different..
and I should beat a Violet till it turns Blue...
Becasue thats what it should do...
No matter if im black, Pale, muslim or hindu
I will beat a Violet blue...
And Keep all roses red
Cuz I still haven't Got to I love you!!
ShuckFacedGirl Jan 2016
roses are red
violets are blue
but we both know
that’s not true

Roses are red
but violets aren’t blue
they’re violet which
is a different hue

plus, roses are red
but poppies are too
and poppies are better-
they remind me of you

poppies are red,
but what is blue?
I’ll get to the point
before I go coocoo

Poppies are red
violets aren’t blue
I just wanna say
I love you
Just a silly poem for Josh #^-^#

— The End —