A woman is a flower in a garden; her husband is the fence around it.
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The Weed
There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.
The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send
the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.
Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.
The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.
But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.
She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.
The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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10 Days
Having been born in my own yard
I never knew a reason to leave.
But when a flower from the other side of the fence called my name
it brought me to consider.
But the prospect seemed ludicrous-
I shall stay on my side of the fence.
Upon closer look the beautiful flower again called my name
I saw the petals were smooth and green.
So I jumped the fence, and tried to place myself in the ground next to the flower
laboriously digging all around it, trying to become one with it.
The following 3 days, while I dug, the beautiful flower withered in the hot wind and on the fourth crumbled beside me.
Feeling compelled to myself wither and crumble with guilt
on the other side of the garden another flower called
feeling hopeless and tormented I followed the voice for four more days until I came upon the flower
standing alone on parched soil, famished and dying.
Suffocating in my own misery
for 2 days I attempted to penetrate through the dry, cracked ground to bind myself to this lone, beautiful flower I found among weeds and sticks
and eventually dug this flower up as well, which too died
I thought about where to go from here
but so weakened I myself began to wither and crack.
10 days after leaving my yard
my skin flaked off
my teeth fell out
my bones became ashes.
poem by Louie Vizcarra
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She Was a Great Woman - Coretta Scott King
She was a woman of strength
She handled great responsibility as her husband fought for our freedom
She was a woman of vision
As she stood by her husband she could see what he saw and continue to stand
She was a woman of courage
She never backed down because of danger that was around
She was a woman of intelligence
Being educated never propelled her to an attitude of haughtiness
She was a woman of passion
Once Martin was gone she continued the quest for the accomplishment of his dream
She was a woman of prayer
Her communication with God let her know that she must carry on
She was a woman of greatness
She never tried to place herself out front
She was a woman of servanthood
She served others while not seeking to be served
She was a woman of determination
She traveled near and far to carry on the legacy of her husband
She was a woman full of life
She loved God, her husband, her children and all mankind until the day she was called home
She was a Great woman
poem by Deidre Blair
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Super Woman
She is very strong, does not complain about anything
she makes mistake, but still moving forward
Her husband is so proud of her
She takes responsibility husband home or not.
She did do all the paper works and gave her husband to sign.
She do everything, by herself. Everything
Super woman, who is like her?
She is every woman, wonder woman.
You know when you see her.
poem by Modupe Obatuyi
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Once There Was A Flower
i like this to be as simple
as this:
once there was a
flower
a very white flower
blooming
in my garden
and once there was a bee
a very busy bee
getting nectars
from the flowers in my
garden
except from that very white
flower
in my garden
the bee died
the flower died too
and they never really lived
happily everafter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A woman without a man is like a garden without a fence.
Lost In My Garden
Across the way and around the bend
my world comes to an end.
I do not venture further than that
but there's a garden there I tend.
Beyond the garden there is a fence,
a fence that keeps me here.
I'm not allowed to go anywhere.
I cannot disappear.
For I'm watched and guarded all the time,
never let alone.
But I made up my mind so long ago
that this place is my home.
I have no friends for I've been told
they're all afraid of me.
I must have done something terrible
but it's not in my memory.
Someone brings me out in the sun
and later brings me in.
I see people staring at me
as I lower my head and chin.
What was it I did? I can't recall
and maybe it's better that way.
When I'm in my bed with one bulb on
it's then I always pray.
'Please don't let me remember God.
Please let me stay this way.
For who will take care of my garden
on every sunny day? '
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Men would wander
Stigma attached to widowhood removed,
No woman would care to nurse her husband.
Disgrace clung to divorce taken away,
No woman would tolerate her husband.
Shame of infidelity wiped out,
No woman would mind ditching her husband.
Glory of virginity fast dying,
No woman would stay pure for her marriage
Shackles attached to her broken away,
Men, insecure by nature, would wander.
16.04.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Where the passion flower grows
Lay down on your pillow
and turn the lights down low
let me take you to the garden
where the passion flower grows
Close your eyes and enter dreams
as love's emotion sets the scene
and flitters through the garden
where the passion flower grows
Touch the tender petals
of the flower as she grows
a tentative endeavour
as your feelings overflow
Let me draw you to the place
where ecstasy can be embraced
the beauty of the garden
where the passion flower grows
Feel your mind exploding
in the heavy scented air
experience the shiver
as your captured unaware
A little touch of heaven
where imagination flows
the valley in the garden
where the passion flower grows.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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In The Flower Garden
In the flower garden
The flowers are pink and white
The sky is blue
And it drags along the clouds of white
Friends of mine are waiting for me
Friends of mine are waiting to give me information
and advice
After receiving careful words from my friends
I continue on my way through the flower garden
In the flower garden
I spy my animal friends
A lizard and a bee
Both willing to help me
Either by running along the ground
Flying in the air
Or climbing a tree
Both are willing to help me get to safety
Both are willing to help me to survive
With all the obstacles, snakes, and evil seeds
around
After besting all the enemies
My animal friends and I reach the end of the
flower garden
They've done their job
And for that I'm grateful
I wish my animal friends well
Offering them a warm goodbye
As they make their way back to the flower garden
And leave me to continue on my adventure
poem by Justin Gildow
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The battle field
To marry too soon will land a woman
In a bad husband; her fate is sealed.
To marry too late will make a woman
Miss a good husband; her charms faded.
If her fortune got her a good husband,
There might be women to lure him away.
If her fate earned her a bad husband,
There would be fine men to lure her away.
A woman’s life is a battle field.
15.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You nailed me
You nailed me
To the garden fence with a kiss,
Translucent-blood then wet my lids
Like sunlight after a heavy-shower.
Apple-fresh the goblet-cup opened
Its olive pores of greenwood.
I held you, too tightly at first limb for limb.
Then o'er the oil and water mixed, before parting?
"Virginity is a yellow bruise that grapples
Like a naked swimmer" inherently drowning…
Expounding: for some forbidden fruit.
It's now then you gaze at me as though
Your Eden had already over grown…
Chopping backward at some underpass
Your eyes droop like summer scorched nettles…
That reveals me as an unremitting, wilderness.
Even now the air!
Still pollenates that long-off aspersed-seed.
Even now—when your garden fence
No-longer beckons me into that over-leap
The nature of the slug,
Is still here abundant to smother and cling.
Yes, it was right then I too did not live up to you…
For you was a flower of the golden meadow
And I, I was a flower of the woodland-vine.
You were a primrose and I a jungle climbing fig
In memories bound up of your distant sunlight
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A Husband...
A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective
A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding
A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry
A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses
A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his
poem by Sarah Holmes
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Flower to Flower
I came across one flower
While walking in a garden
It saw me and gave a smile
I too smiled and walked
Each day in garden I smiled
One day I gazed at flower
At its plant and roots closely
I observed its dance in wind
And its dance made me sing
It made me smile all my time
Everyday I went to flower
Smiled with it and came back
My days went like seconds
Nights passed like years
Flower made me its lover
So I wrote songs on its dance
On its lovely beautiful smile
All about its charming beauty
And my state of dying slowly
In which I am smiling daily
One day I saw flower singing
In the garden while jogging
Song reveled its moving off
From my garden to a house
Of loved one from its past
I smiled on all my songs
While writing a new song
Its song of flower to flower
Which I gave to my flower
When departing from my lover
poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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Carlo, Do Not Grieve
do not grieve
over a woman
she is just a flower
and like a flower
it will not take
a longer time
she wilts and then
you will be free?
shall you be free
when that flower wilts?
can't you be at least
a busy bee?
she is not the only flower
in this garden
there are so many more
don't grieve my friend
be a man
man is reason.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the spring garden
In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
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The Woman And The Flower
sa balak ang babaye
mao ang bulak
for a poem the woman
is the flower
sa bulak ang babaye
dili babaye
dili niya kini masabtan
sa iyang pagkabulak
for the flower the woman
is not a woman
it cannot comprehend this
in its flower-nature
sa babaye ang bulak
halad sa iyang kasingkasing
pako sa iyang kalaay
haploy sa iyang aping
to a woman the flower
is an offering to her heart
a wing to her boredom
a caress to her cheek
bulak ang babaye
og ang babaye bulak
mao kana ang hukom
sa balak.
the flower is the woman
and the woman is the flower
that is the judgment of
the poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Opaque, thank God!
One woman is gossiping with her husband
How another woman is all the time
Complaining about her husband about
All small, small things: and this husband
Nods his head, and agrees to what his wife says,
Thinking all the time, “What about you, my dear? ”
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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As Though There Is Meaning
oftentimes
to make life as new
we make
beginnings
a fence here
a garden within
a new house
in the middle of
the land
and then the old
storms come
again
there is always
this instinct
for destruction
for which we must
be all
thankful
for soon we shall
begin anew
another fence there
a new garden here
another house to replace
the old broken one
in the middle of
the land
and so there is
nowhere
or no one
someone is always
here
something
makes the tick
in truth
just another
deception
for us to sow the
earth again
as though
there is meaning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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