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Created on: April 09, 2009
The reddest rose is invisible in a crowded bloom.
It grows all to soon as wilted matter resumes.
Saddened to harvest, but picked solemnly last, it repeats its self in the past.
No one sees the beauty it weighs or traces of morning mystic dew that stays.
Learn more about this author, Jeanette Huston.
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Poetry: Roses
by Alvaro Ramos
I walked not through a garden,
but I came upon a rose.
It dealt a blow so swift and sweet,
that still its impact grows.
The Un red Rose
In the 9th year it was the dawn of days,
there was a rose with no color no form.
It tried to grow in its own
The rose will not keep your love.
Roses are truly made by God's grace.
Nothing more beautiful than roses and lace.
Come sit
- The Rose -
The rose blushed red beneath my tread
In upward gaze of sad decline.
Her twisted bush, with bleeding head
Exquisite
The Fair Rose
O rose, thy gorgeous fragrant smell
brings joy to those in whom it dwells.
Thy strong uniqueness and delicate
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