Vagrant
The love that has no memories and no hope,
Is like the weed that blossoms for an hour;
That putting forth its one imperfect flower,
Straightway doth languish. It can neither cope
With the strong tempest, nor with the mild power
Of mellow sunlight, nor with the soft shower.
It has no root in nature, and it dies,
Leaving no fragrance and no fruit behind;
And none lament it, nor return to find
Its bed when, beaten low, it bruisèd lies:
Unfriended, and forsaken of its kind,
It blows about, at mercy of the wind.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Wind.
Who has seen the wind?
Of course, neither you nor I!
It's weak or strong
No body sees its appearance
Who has seen the wind?
Of course, neither I nor you!
Only feel trees are shaking,
I know the wind is passing through.
There are some winds called typhoon.
The residents are afraid when it's coming.
People most fear about the tornados mostly.
Everything’s being terribly pulled up to the sky.
It brings three days raining if a typhoon passed.
Therefore I don’t think they are too hateful.
There will be some affection when wind is coming.
It may bring us happiness or sadness.
Do you love the wind?
I love spring wind kisses on my face;
it is so soft like a lady’s touch.
I love autumn wind blows on fruit trees;
it brings the fruit’s smell to my nose.
Do you hate the wind?
My heart might be broken if it’s too strong.
I pray God lets lovely wind blowing.
I wish bad wind never causes harmful again.
Pray for people get help from the wind;
No body hates wind for the whole year;
I hope get more love from the wind.
Hope every body loves them as the friends.
poem by Albert Wong
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But a short time to live
Our little hour,—how swift it flies
When poppies flare and lilies smile;
How soon the fleeting minute dies,
Leaving us but a little while
To dream our dream, to sing our song,
To pick the fruit, to pluck the flower,
The Gods—They do not give us long,—
One little hour.
Our little hour,—how short it is
When Love with dew-eyed loveliness
Raises her lips for ours to kiss
And dies within our first caress.
Youth flickers out like wind-blown flame,
Sweets of to-day to-morrow sour,
For Time and Death, relentless, claim
Our little hour.
Our little hour,—how short a time
To wage our wars, to fan our hates,
To take our fill of armoured crime,
To troop our banners, storm the gates.
Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red,
Blind in our puny reign of power,
Do we forget how soon is sped
Our little hour?
Our little hour,—how soon it dies:
How short a time to tell our beads,
To chant our feeble Litanies,
To think sweet thoughts, to do good deeds.
The altar lights grow pale and dim,
The bells hang silent in the tower—
So passes with the dying hymn
Our little hour.
poem by Leslie Coulson
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The Death of a Flower
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Blooming 'neath sunlight's rays
Life gives love its power
Sustains you all your days
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Bright petals circularly arrayed
Life gives love its power
To hold one's heart in sway
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Flourishing by a cool bay
Life gives love its power
But eventually both fade to gray
Love is a wilted flower
Petals all crumpled and frayed
Life gave love its power
But death took both away
poem by Elizabeth Sheaffer
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My Wilted Flower
Your waking dreams
I hear your screams
Of the hour
My wilted flower
All alone
Can’t go home
You must cower
My wilted flower
So much pain
Standing in the rain
You are not of power
My wilted flower
You run away
And there you stay
In the cold rain shower
My wilted flower
Memories of all the hate
Your horrible fate
They no longer tower
My wilted flower
In peace you die
I mustn’t cry
Your last hour
My wilted flower
~2009~
poem by Jennifer Cramer
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Nature
Nature is beautiful
nature is fun
love it or hate it
nature is something to love
nature is god's gift to us
Nature
Nature we love
wate and feed nature
Nature water's and feed's us
god gave us nature
we cant live with out it
nature makes us
i know nature
Nature is beautiful
Nature is about the earth
nature has flower; s and weed's
weed's or flower's nature is us
NATURE
poem by Kerri King
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A Soft Refrain
Turn you head a little, and glance briefly at the rain,
Watch it creeping down that clear glass windowpane.
Making a rhythmic tapping sound, it's such a soft refrain,
Thrown there by a wind whose temper, we cannot contain.
Clouds of grey release their weighty contents from the sky,
Feeding plants that on the ground, I'm pretty sure would die
Without the refreshing water. Trees like the tall green leylandii
Would shrivel up. We must also consider the fragile butterfly.
Although we moan each time we are bombarded by a shower,
We need to think of all it saves, even one simple flower.
It holds within its droplets numerous minerals of such power,
Continually feeding this dry, parched earth, hour after hour.
Let us appreciate the wonders which nature doth bestow,
Keeping our land a pleasant place for everything to grow.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Ah a happy lover once was I
Ah a happy lover once was I who had come
To look on her the one I loved so well
She who lightened and rang my gateway bell
Then to learn her gone so far from my heart home
Her departure saddened and dimmed all magic light
Happy time dies off at once from bower and hall
And all places are dark, dark in whole and all
The heart chambers are empty of any delight
I reminisced pleasant memories of a familiar spot
In which we two were wont to meet
Under a tree in an open field, in a chamber down lyric street
Foe all in dark now where you are not
Yet as I walk other streets wandering there
During those heart break deserted walks, I find
A flower beaten down with rain and wind
Which once they fostered up with gentle care
So she left me torn and tattered in deep regret
My forsaken heart my devastated soul
And this shaken flower like our love used to stand tall
Which she used to care for fades not yet
Oh poor love, Oh wilted flower hardly to rejoice the heart nor to please the eye
The force that nourished you is now your own demise and final tomb
Where is the hope that it can ever once again bloom
If dying, let it vanquish in the place where I myself die
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Color Of The Wind
The wind blows blue
when it misses you.
the wind blows red
when it knows your dead.
the wind blows green
when it it sees you being mean.
the wind blows white
when your about to take flight.
the wind blows black
whenever it knows your not coming back.
the wind blows pink
whenever your blood is ink.
the wind blows orange
whenever you cant rhyme with orange.
the wind blows yellow
whenever you cant be mellow.
if i am black
then why wont you ever come back?
if i am red
then shall i weep because your dead?
if i am blue
then should i miss you?
if i am green
then must you be very mean?
if i am yellow
then why wont you be mellow?
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
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Love Has No Foes
Love has no foes; where'er he goes
Conditions full of mildness meet,
And amber honey-cells are filled,
And little birds begin to build,
And blossoms gather at his feet,—
Love is so sweet!
Love has no foes; the folded rose
That answering his smile's caress
Blows into beauty, with its heart
All bruised to fragrance by his art,
To every breeze doth still confess
His loveliness!
Love has no foes; who only knows
What Love hath been when Love is fled,
E'en he, bereft, would follow him,
Though to the voiceless caverns dim
Of the wan city of the Dead,
And share his bed!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tell thee truth, sweet; no
TELL thee truth, sweet; no.
Truth is cross and sad and cold:
Lies are pitiful and kind,
Honey-soft as Love's own tongue:
Let me, love, lie so.
Lies are like a summer wind,
Wooing flower-buds to unfold
Lies will last while men are young.
Tell thee truth, love; no.
Let me, sweet, lie so.
Lies are Hope's light ministers,
Footless birds upon the wing:
Truth's a name for plodding care:
Tell thee truth, sweet; no.
Truth's the east wind on the Spring—
'Tis the wind, not Spring-time, errs.
Lies will last while maids are fair.
Let me lie, love, so.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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You Are Like A Flower
You are like a flower
Growing in beauty
Nature has its own way
Making you uniquely
So I’ll wait until the day
You sprout with love
Because anything less
Would not be enough
You are like a flower
Strong with the wind
Never giving up your roots
You grow and never let loose
Should I protect you anymore?
When the strength you have
Is already within you
You are like a flower
Giving off good qualities
Selfless and fragrant
Keeping yourself steady
You know something new
Comes out everyday
You are like a flower
You attract attention
With your good look
You are sensitive
It is what makes you strong
Though you can be easily plucked
You fight for your life
You decide what is what
You are a like a flower
For a flower is honest
What you see is what you get
You stand out like a flower should
I will remember how gentle you are
A flower in need of love, you are set
Because even if you are all these
You are soft and delicate
It’s my pleasure to make sure
That nothing changes it
My Flower
poem by Joshua Gilchrist
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We must learn not to disassociate the airy flower from the earthy root, for the flower that is cut off from its root fades, and its seeds are barren, whereas the root, secure in mother earth, can produce flower after flower and bring their fruit to maturity.
Her Wet Hair Feels Cool on My Skin
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin
As she came fresh from the shower.
She lies near me and rest begins.
Her whispers soft, a quiet wind
Caress my senses for an hour.
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin.
I’m at peace more than ever when
I lay down with her in her bower,
She lies near me and rest begins.
Now love’s sensations lie within
A subtle simple touch of power-
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin.
She holds my heart fast with a grin
Delicately, like a flower.
She lies near me and rest begins.
I say that now if this be sin
I don’t in fear of death cower.
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin:
She lies near me and rest begins.
2009
poem by William Mcgehee
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Little Flower Of Mine
Spring has come once more
with a gentle wind in the rays of the sun.
Here stands a little flower among the country plains.
Little flower of mine,
You’re the rose among lilies that blossoms in all its grace.
Little flower of mine
I love your radiance of red,
and your quiet strength amid the storm.
Little flower of mine,
inspite of wind and rain you grew and grew still.
Little flower of mine
you’re the apple of mine eye,
you’re the flower that never dies.
Little flower of mine,
You’re my inspiration and joy indeed.
poem by Lyndon Murray
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Hold On
I heard a little bird tell me, per say,
That someone was coping it the other day,
Yet another heartbreak in a cold world,
But I wanted to let you know, hold on girl.
Everything's going to be fine, just hold tight.
Sometimes the darkness clouds us, till we can't see
That there are still people who love you and me.
We get stuck trying to follow our peers,
We find ourselves cornered by our greatest fears.
So from someone worried, to someone I care about I write:
No matter how dark the night,
Keep holding on till morning light.
There's someone out there, looking for you,
I hope he finds you, I really hope you do.
I know he loves you so very much,
But till then, hold on tight,
No matter how hard, don't lose sight,
One day, you'll find love blossom again,
If you can hold on through the rain.
One day, you'll dance in the sun again.
Our flower, in life's storms, oft gets torn,
But if you hang on, another flower will spawn.
I'm sure that there's a flower inside, ready to blossom,
And when it does, it'll be something awesome.
Vibrant colors to wow the world, full petals,
Strong stem, and a glorious fragrance to smell.
Such things take time, so hold on, bid your time.
Though you don't know who I am,
I'm thinking of you, and care, I pray you blossom again.
Remember in your darkest hour, you're not alone,
There's always at least one, who loves you, no matter how battered, bruised and thrown.
Hold on, someone cares, they want to see you blossom again
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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In Love with the Wind
The wind blows on
to every horizon
passing through the earth
where it could be heard
Here comes a flower
in its flourishing
the spirit of the wind
soaking in every inch of its living
Shaking and trembling
the flower nearly stops breathing
Screaming and shouting
the flower rebels from its rooting
Struggling against its origin
the flower dreams to fly away
to be free,
gone with the wind
But the wind is gone,
leaving the flower alone,
scattered like a fragile bone
until its days are gone
poem by Anggie Servian
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Mercy and Love
In order to know and love God as He is, we must have God dwelling in us in a new way, not only in His creative power but in His mercy. Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation.
Nothing I could do
would ever be enough
to make the dead-wood
live. Though the wind
and rain sever bright leaves,
tender blossoms from
the cherry tree, and the
birds themselves fly
from my anger,
I know
I could never
make it right,
though with tears I flood,
nourish with a
broken heart's blood
I am powerless.
Yet still these bruised stems,
thicken and split
to bud, spill green life,
fill the earth
with mercy
and love.
poem by Steven Federle
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La Vie en Rose
I am the true love symbol flower
With passion to conceive loves power,
My face has launched a thousand loves
Beauty of no bounds I fly with doves.
My blood is drank by Mademoiselle Chanel
In Venus pools of jealousy doth dwell
She breathes it on the skin of Jezebels
As they steal the hearts to kiss and tell.
Above all this my fragrance grows
From him a single stem and then she knows
Love, colours red white blue and yellow
Endorsing all of woman soft and mellow
I trance the eyes to sheer delight
For fragrant music in the night
As lovers hold me for that pose
I am the one and only
Vie en Rose
poem by Ken e Hall
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Wishing Well
Your smile
Blossoms like a flower
Capturing a second for one hour.
Then sprayed on the canvas of time
With the colours of verse and rhyme,
Painting the wind
That blew a soft chime
From a lonely bell.
Near a wishing well
To christen a love sublime.
Your kiss
The photosynthesis
To nurture such sweet bloom as this.
Soft tears of Heavens' fallen dew
Cling to leaf
To embrace anew
Our Eden
Under azure blue.
Where sunlight fell we won't forget
In shadow of a wishing well.
Where dreams began before sunset
- To fly at dawn
And leave regret
Of secrets only they could tell.
Copyright.
poem by Kevin East
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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White
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