Roses are beautiful
fragrant they are all through
tender amidst thorns.
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Tag: Rose
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A Metaphor.
The rose is beautiful
petals are soft and wonderful
silky and shining being an attraction
so goes the general description.
The rose is tender
protect it from any offender
held harsh crumbles and falls
could this be another call?
Life is beautiful
look at it with eyes wonderful
flaws turn into a glossy gleam
nothing strikes the beam.
Life is tender
tempers and anger being the offenders
bridle the anger as much as you could
never try to speak rude .
Roses dance in the air
rose, red and blue in all
life blossoms in different hues
rose and red green and blue.
Not I sing a song of praise
nor I sit and watch it rise
rose and life seen together
professes a metaphorical refer.
Roses hold an enticing sight
no matter where they lie
be it on the plants around
be it strewn on the ground
they captivate the eyes
no matter what be their size
the smallest winks at you
while the biggest greets you
the blush seen in the red one
overwhelms us with a fun
the rosy rose smiles coyly
stretches our imagination extensively
there is abundant peace in the yellow rose
it is a transcendental feel in pose
that be of all the roses in a song
could also be a bouquet in form.
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The Rose Again
It is a rose again
that promotes a gain
it is not a feign
but seen very plain
a beauty in form
above all norms
no measurements in straight
random and bright
colourful it is through
a lovely rose in hue
petals soft as drops of dew
around the birds fly
the butterfly zooms
the rose gives a room
with a lively bloom
dispels their gloom
that be the rose again
promotes a vast gain.
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A Song on Rose.
It is a rose
a flower that rose
from the green stalk
being thorny in the neck
a small plant though
not with many boughs
steady in growth all through
gives out blossoms the year through
a beautiful little flower
the King of all flowers
in shades of pastel colours
there be also dark colours
red, blue and black
in bunches, clusters of stock,
a great delight to all
a greatest experience on the whole.
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The Favour And Flavour.
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The Kaleidoscope.
With the colours getting into the thoughts
qualifying the emotions as taught
with white denoting purity
and a kindness that emulates directly
goes the black that brings in a morbidity
well black also has another quality
with black clouds flaunting rain
comes in blue without much strain
where the sky encompasses a bluish hue
along with the 
extensive sea to take the cue
followed by the beautiful rose
that denotes the Queen of flowers in a source
representing cheerfulness and spirit kindred
last comes the bright radiant red
extolling the brightness with an alert
indicating a danger lying in front
pursuing the bloody trials in a row
with a burning in an embittering grow
The colours get into our lifestyle
creating an interesting file
making over with a golden hue
reclining in an enchantment true.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
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Rose Is A Rose.
Rose is a rose
with an elegant pose
it remains a rose.
Rose is a rose
let there be many grows
it is still the rose.
Rose is a rose
many others might propose
but the feel is the rose.
Rose is a rose
competitions would force
yet it is a rose.
Rose is a rose
with things from other source
it still hold up as rose.
Rose is a rose
nothing could beat her in 
throws
being the unbeatable rose.
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A Rose Plant.
The rose plant over there
has grown without care
Each day it flowers
remaining there for hours
None to tend her at all
None to pluck her in all
She has grown by herself
keeping her to herself.
She grows on the path
giving out no wrath
instead extends a delight
withstanding without fright.
Oh! my rose over there
is there as everybody’s share.
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The Coy Love.
With the rose in his hand
he said “I love you” in a manner grand
Blushing like the rose with glamour
she went past him without a murmur
He ran behind her like a mad
proposing again in glad.
The girl blushed once more
made her way to the door.
Not knowing what to do.
the coy boy sat down without a cue.
The girl hoping to see him behind
turned back and finding him not in the hind
felt sad and sat down with tears
The feel of love is so strange
not able to express in the range
not possible to show explicitly
it is so deep and keen invariably
a false step would break the heart
mending it would be a task great.
Meenas Poems 