Roses - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Red roses ripen, fruits for eyes in love
I pick just one, so velvety, dishevelled
and hold you close to stubbles of the past
there is a kinship here, of growth and lust
to quickly, with innate intent, expand
become the emperor of some belated speck,
and blossom into sweet eternal life just once.
No rose of any other colour is for me
it is not roses, but confusion rules the world.
Comments about Roses by Herbert Nehrlich
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye