The Rose Rustler
The sun is surely rising
On yet another day.
Birds are chirping madly
As I head along my way.
I’m searching for that something
That’s missing from my mind.
I dream of finding roses
Lost to all mankind.
The roses in their glory
A smell of strong perfume.
The lure of mystic roses
Bringing me to you.
The rose blooms open slowly
As the sun shines on them so.
I think I’ll keep on looking
In this place that heaven knows.
Tombstones arched by roses
From a long gone time since passed.
Thorns and brambles masking
That rose I’ve found at last.
The search is never over
That rose is never found.
I’ll rustle here tomorrow
Again on hallowed ground.
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Comments about this poem (The Rose Rustler by Cheryl Moore )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Walter de la Mare
(1873 - 1958)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 July 1870 – 16 July 1953)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland