Learn more about other poetry terms

Red lips take a sip of the evening's wine.  Heavily coated lashes gazed upon her victim. A man of 5'7", broad shoulders, able to scare any other man with a certain gaze.
Red lips take a sip of the evening's wine.  Heavily coated lashes gazed upon her victim. A man of 5'7", broad shoulders, able to scare any other man with a certain gaze.
Love. The latest love resembles the wilting flowers in the garden. Once blossomed, alive, an. Blissful. Now it's a old stale memory; lost in the backseat of my mind. How lovely at the thought of a rose. A Blood red rose. Not just any rose.
You've always compared me to a rose and I never quite understood why. Is it because I'm pretty? Or is it because I have thorns? Is it because, if you get too close you'll hurt yourself?
Clock is ticking…mind is wracking…thoughts are racing…  
im a rose  with thorns if you touch me roughly ill hurt you if you touch me gently ill love you
Bed of thorns, vacant flowerbeds, Flowers plucked and torn, your loyalties shed. Flower crown of spikes, flower crown of thorns, Wicked wicker-weaved words swarm.    I'm selling secrets a dozen a bundle
the wavering tree the rolling stone  the shaking plea  a place called home  a hopeless need  chilled to the bone  a want for warmth  and a shoulder to cry on. to get out of the storm,
Thorns reside on a crown where roses once grew Spiraling outward towards the heavens with the arrival of spring It’s winter now. What was once a fiery bush of life
Thinking back to the very fist existence, There was one that cannot be forgotten: Clad in white, adorned with thorns, And many emotions shown on its face. Age alike, the mind even more so.
You have had too much hope Inside your soul And when you wake up With blood streaming down Your legs And tears Falling down your face The first person you want to curl into
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,
Crystalize the memory & synchronize your chemical scheme, as the city underground travels through the blood stream ..of the young, the rich the old and poor..and the faces of the familiar across the crooked corridoors.
There once was a rose Attactive and sweet She reached to pluck the fragrant bud Only to be pricked with it's thorns  
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...
She painted with green tintEndless strokes on every canvasFocus detailed upon every lineEvoking emotions that are endlessShe painted with green tintbecause it was the color of his eyes,
The light blurs out any sensation you sense Your clothes are stained, but you wait in suspense The picture frame is tilted agains the wall It never bothered me, for imperfetion is beauty after all
Man's Greatest LessonYet to learnCan be foundIn the rose's thorn; Which teaches usQuite simply"Just look,And leave me be.
White rose, Do you ever tire of your beauty? I see all the other flowers, Bloom in jealousy. Frankly, it’s not your thorns I avoid, When you hug me.
her garden flourished flowers of every kind in every color imaginable she took good care of her garden kept the weeds away never let any thorns grow
Subscribe to thorns