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Les roses, les fleurs et les bouquets L’amour, l’honneur, le respect et la paix Les vers, les poèmes et la littérature
Stormy clouds are traveling through your heartAnd bitter grudges are ruining your happinessHate destroys and love builds everything whichIs beautiful. Get a grip on yourself while the midday sun
Dressed like Saturn, Girdled by those cosmic belts She asks me, darling, What's your favorite planet?
The Roses in his Garden as red as the blood, as pretty as him, as Withered as him, both seen as Flawless.
my lungs bloom with tulips, vines entangle my throat. the roses are deeprooted and the petals seem to float.
Sculpted hammer of divinity comes down, and My skull is cracked and leaking Adorned by a veil of mourning glories in full bloom Laced, tethered stems joining at the base Soft gentle petals hugging
I can be the dyed rose petals scattered on your bed Whispering of love's lost chances, piercing veins instead Now we've scattered too, like them, who've long since lost their voice
I remember one night As we walked hand in hand A rose secretly clutched in your sweaty palm The wind frolicking through your locks And mine swiftly gone upon the winds of love
My right-side brain's growing fowers, my lungs are sprouting roots. My heart's a dripping beehive, its sweetness all for you. So wrap it all up in paper, send a burnt offering to the sky.
Our last dying rose The thorns that hold the grace but Love knows no way to survive because
Her lips were red like she had been drinking all the poisonousness of this world or the blood of dead roses. Her eyes had a color of regret maybe because she had been thinking and wondering the deepest rooms of her soul,
There was a rose that stood out from all the red ravishing ones. This one bloomed too early onto the sacred ground of Mother Nature's beautiful creation,
The red petals Remind of blood Which is What they will draw When someone Dares to come Too close Beautiful souls Always have The sharpest thorns To protect
The figures of stone watch over us with vigilance. The songbirds sing our praises in their molto vivace. The wildflowers form a carpet underneath our feet.
What I would give for you to hold me in your arms. What I would give to be with you another day. You know, it's tough now, living here without you. But I'm okay. Yeah, I'm okay.
wilted rose in a garden of madness, passing your days as an outcast- with no burden to bare with shame you hang
To Love: You are so enchanting. A blooming rose bush. You have so many flowers. So wonderfully fragrant. You are so vivid.
when the heat wave strikes, do not moveit is better to become transparent and allow it to go through youholding onto suffering will only cause more pain either way when something is too cold or too hot it burns
im a rose with thorns if you touch me roughly ill hurt you if you touch me gently ill love you
You swore to never hurt me or butcher me; Only to love, and to hold; But your bruises lay on my arms: And your marks on my neck; That’s not love anymore.
every year for as long as i can remember my mom has tried to grow a rose bush. key word tried.
The rose that is weak and witheredIt falls and sulks and shrinksAfter rain, it drags itself to the sunAnd the rose flourishes vibrantly The rose that returns every yearIt has been through dark, harsh weatherIt survives the many beasts who try to
You bring me blue roses, at the end of every day. And that blue smile you carry, will never fade away. Always showering me with, blue hugs and blue kisses. But when we depart,
Roses are red , Violets are blue If you were my girlfriend then I'll do anything to stay with you.
Roses are Red Violets are Blue I need Scholarship Money Or else I'll end up in the streets with a 6 million dollar debt that not even the President can save me from. gg wp no re
Darling (D E T A C H)I’m relievedit’s me craving youinstead of the otherway around.Unlike live lamenting roses,plastic petals never wear or tear -I am the neverfailing buttress system.
I’m not a poet But you smell like Those overused blue violets And red roses
What it must be like to be untouched and unbruised. To be treated with such respect, honor, To be be held with such belief.
I lay in a bed of rose flowers. The thorns pricked My thighs blood trickled down My sides Into the forever decaying soil Pricked fingers crimson gushing I was named after a rose
Have you ever sat there, In the ice rain to watch The droplets crash into the barren ground? The destruction of their perfect form, Beautiful and sad. Have you ever sat there
The sweetest kiss of twilightA crimson rose or threeLost in the moment loveA moment with out theeIs no moment at all The tender kiss of yours dearA crimson rose or twoLost in the moment love
Roses are not red, they’re internal colors that blend together, it is our naked eye that misguides us. Something so natural, untouched yet so beautiful and breathtaking.
You always told me I reminded you of red roses And suddenly I’m nine years old Dirtying my favorite white dress in a garden I’d sneak out to Picking petals off of sunflowers
I am... The girl who saw the truth too early, when I should not have glimpsed. Like the tempted Eve I cast aside my Eden, and have been expelled from the garden of roses.
I sit in the white porcelain, writing. I allow red to drip, making roses on the snowy surface I feel: Relief. As if every weight I have ever felt has been lifted. Mommy, Daddy, this is not your fault.
If I was falling through the sky
ROSES are dead. VIOLETS are dead. EVERYTHING is dead. DEAD dead dead.
Roses are red violets are blue this poem isn't original it's not intended too Violets are blue roses are red keep reading on but only in your head roses are red
I have no color, No shade of gray.
When I was a kid I thought all poems were about roses
Everything beautiful is either immensely frail or immensely strong. Memories, frozen in time, lasting one second. Lasting a thousand seconds. They are beautiful because they are so fleeting in our minds.
Once upon a tombstone, There lay a single white rose. Of whom a stranger left, Many years ago. But this rose was quite odd,
Roses are red, violets are blue, we're going to Orlando with someone cool.
She smelled like wet roses With the weight of her words Heavier than golden kisses. In a pocket full of ashes, We danced naked in vineyards. She smelled like wet roses.
These brightly colors,
The ground is barren. the sky, a morning grey Two roses stand together in the silent day One is satin black the other crimson red No one can see them but the dead They appear when the fighting is gone
Roses fall into the water Plick Plick Plick Plick Their petals grow heavier as water rushes to get on to them Slowly Silently Petal by petal
It's hard to gather rosebuds with a dreadful fear of thorns;It's hard to share one's fondness with a fear of lover's scorn.So as one gathers rosebuds with a thick and rugged glove,
I prick my finger on a single thorn, And watch the blood fall to the floor, Eyes... The color of forget-me-not blue my heart is staying pure and true. Through days of darker light...
I will die. Young perhaps I will be put in a coffin The color of coal With a rainbow on top I will be beautiful Surrounded by fine silk With the smell of roses
Why must you make me suffer? One error and I am faulty? Why do you uproot my regret and prevent me from my blossom? Even the most delicate rose has its thorns, and you still
Roses are gold,
Another petal hits the floor what do you want my innocence my pride the walk is no longer the same, the smile is all pain daytime is his savior cause the monsters never came
Kissing the stars,
The Red Queen wanted red roses. The roses were whte, so the cards painted them red. Red roses a common symbol of love. I paint roses everyday for you. They aren't red,
Roses are red, violets are blue, Theres noone in this world, Id rather be with than you, Counting the petals, I love you, i love you not, Counting and counting, Connecting the dots,
Say it isn't so Vagabond Your heart is never there You wander endlessly without a care
It is a flower's dream To be picked and given away. Be it to... A fair maiden, A child who still believes in princes and fairytales, A watchful and caring mother,
Red, Red is the color of the blood in my body Red is the color of my love my love for you is impeccable its unimaginable my love for you is Red. Red is the color of all that is right all that is perfect
I do nothing but awkwardly glare at a man who cannot stare, as his rough fingers roam freely in this blind man’s attempt to see me. His fingers trace my nose and I nervously curl my toes.
I was on a stroll, when I took a glimpse Of a garden in a man’s home. Petals, leaves, vines were behind the fences Fragrances, shaped, colors invaded my senses,
Girls represent roses. They need time, patience, and love to grow. Girls should stay away from weeds That hide their beauty.
Broken promises left in the open The stench of nicotine and dried up roses Clouded vision by the smoke Don't think, don't think, don't speak Cold air filling a dried throat Whispered screams in the sheets
someone once said roses are red, violets are blue, but I say oranges are orange and, blueberries are blue, because orange and blue are complementary colors, they go together like no other,
A Rose should be delicate And sweet As a little white dove Pure As the ringing of bells to the ear Mysterious as the lily of the night, Of dark prevailing places where candles shine bright A Rose shou
Man's Greatest LessonYet to learnCan be foundIn the rose's thorn; Which teaches usQuite simply"Just look,And leave me be.
You could be the most beautiful rose in the garden but a florist could still prefer daisies So don't bend your stem if you weren't picked for the bouquet Because for every year there is a Valentine's day
our Love is like a rose. Beautiful to the eye, And deadly to touch. Feeding off of words so lovely and sweet. Thriving off of passion and feelings so deep.
Cast away upon the island, Washed up onto the shore, The message inside the bottle, The one you threw before. It started as, “roses are red, And violets blue, Nothing is better Than being with you”
She lays back her head on the gurney we hold our breath as she takes this journey doctors surround there is no sound as she's wheeled away then her mother breaks down
(poems go here) This morning the rose settled on a dead pine, distinguished with the color of smoke. Remember the red fire.
Roses are red, Violets are blue You are my bestfriend, and I love you!