Be bad to the bad; good to the good; be a flower to other flowers and a thorn to other thorns.
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The Flowers of Thy Being
Being the human beings
Undiscerning is our Art
The thoughts are merely feeble
The Actions, unwise
Me Lord! Me Lord!
Helpless we are, careless as well
The Moment, Thy Person reflects Thy Art
Visible is evrything, discerning we are!
What is Thorn? What is Flower?
Demarkation is accessible
Numerous Thorns we come across
Thorns!
Maybe are the Idols!
Yeah, they are!
Our 'self' leads us to Idols
Thy 'Self' takes us towards Flowers:
The Flower of Thy Word!
The Flower of Thy Path!
The Flower of Thy Guidance!
The Flower is nothing else but Thy Being
O' Lord save us from Idols!
Protect us from Thorns I mean
Shower upon us just Thy Flowers
The Flowers of Thy Being
The Flowers of Thy Being
poem by Azhar Hameed
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Of past relationships, plants and things
If I have to find a plant
of her
she wouldn’t have been a rose
as though it has thorns,
it has meaningful beauty
and it leaves an odour
that stays with you.
Although at a time
I thought that she’s a beautiful flower
I have to stay
far away from flowers
and try and get another plant,
because I will forever
search to find
the right flower.
An Umbrella-thorn bush
with shafts of thorns for me,
is probably the best description
that I will ever find
and where she touches me
it scratches till the blood appears.
poem by Gert Strydom
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They are sad
They are sad
Butterflies were dancing,
Bees were kissing him.
Bumble bee was sucking him
& children were seeing him with charm.
It was a marigold on the top of the plant.
On the other hand some thorns were seeing the glory of the flower
and
their eyes were full of thrust & tears
Because none was seeing them.
In the last they asked its reason from the flower.
The flower tells them the truth that
They are without beautiful colors,
Juice & fragrance
And he is full of colors, juice & fragrance
So every one likes him.
Another fact is this that the flower
is a symbol of peace & love.
On the other hand the thorn is a symbol of cruelty & pain.
I think that unaccountable people in this world
behave like a thorn so they are sad.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Bougainvillea
Who doesn't like flowers?
but he is scared of thorns.
Singly she lives with a sing song
but the prince is scared of thorns.
He has to jump over the fence of thorny bush.
Young prince was a good high jumper in school days.
That she knows.
But this hurdle is different
Prince has to think twice
and he scared of thorns.
Not only that,
he is worrying of his Crown.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Cradled Thorn
Drink to me only
with thine eyes
words with wings
October's skies
Tears of passion
like guilty rain
watered her seed
to drown it's stain
Innocence shamed
the virgin cries
hiding in shadows
a veiled disguise
A secret kept
is a bridle-reined
the lie restrained
was a child enchained
Virtue bled from the
sword pierced flower
Her love grew thorns
of possessive power
From this wounded
river, running red
save not the flower
but the thorn instead
A secret born with
downcast eyes
Her cradled thorn
hears lullabies
poem by George Vuyakovich
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Poisoned Thorn Apple
I have love a thorn apple flower,
Which is scentless and very cute white flower-
But it is full of poisoned.
I have decorate my home only by this flower
Take care it every moment by my over capacity and
Forget all everything for this flower.
I don’t know when some poison
Have scatter in my whole body.
It has make me Mad,
It has make me homeless,
it have make me alone,
It has make me hungry,
It has make me sleepless,
It has made me guard in dark night.
It has make me a dirty boy
On the street.
Oh my thorn apple flower!
poem by Shahin Mallik
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Flower
I smeal a flower and it looks good
than any flower in the world.
oh God thank you for this flower.
we was praying everyday it and you
answer our prayer oh Good thank you.
oh beautyfull flower you are the chosen one.
poem by Olweny Joshua
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31.Why did you do this? [Acrostic]
Wafer thin wings floting above me
Hovering about for a moment free
Yearning a flower to drink nectar sweet
Dancing in the air without any feet
It sees a flower, so swoops down to see
Discovering you, it comes to tell me
Yearning to see a flower dat can dance
Obviously i come, and go into a trance
Unknown of the thorns it has on itself got
Dropping a bit of blood, the thorn, oh I forgot!
Obliterate the wounds, i must fast
Time flies as i rush home at last
Hurriedly cover the wound and run away
Imbicile i was, forgot roads, the mind sways
Surely the flower was here, but where did it go? ? ?
One question the mind asks time and again,
It refuses to let go, however large be the pain
Why did the flower hid itself from my way?
Or did someone take it very very far away?
poem by Harshvardhan Pandit
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A Singing Broken Heart
Alas! I lost my comfort and now my existence,
Cause I saw a flower full of fragrance,
Was pretty but surrounded by thorn fence,
And I wanted to get it breaking any hindrance.
The flower pointed at me as same my will,
And waving its head, it assured me,
A was satisfied and could pass any hill,
Only its pointing kept me in glee.
I started moving to reach the flower,
Thorn stopped me, but I kept on,
I was bleeding but smiling with shower,
I felt many times but I kept on.
I reached the flower with fine intention,
Forgot my wounds I was near my destination,
And I made aware it with my notion,
And a long time we did too mention.
Now I wanted to get its respondence,
But it didn't speak 'on this' even a single word,
Being on thorns I waited with confidence,
But it dejected and made dark my happy world.
It pushed me on thorns and disabused too,
On my will was to pluck, but it thought wrong,
I appreciated it for its beauty and loved too,
But it refused me and disliked my song.
I broke badly while falling on the ground,
And my dreams collapsed like a house of sand,
My wounds were aching but made no sound,
And now I've no place for one to be land.
Now I've truned a stone by prayer,
And nobody is near me as may be my dear,
Cause I've been broken by a false player,
And have no might to do it again, I clear,
Nobody is able to be called mine,
Hands meet but between hearts a rine.
Rine means ditch
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
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The Gardener LVII: I Plucked Your Flower
I plucked your flower, O world!
I pressed it to my heart and the
thorn pricked.
When the day waned and it
darkened, I found that the flower had
faded, but the pain remained.
More flowers will come to you with
perfume and pride, O world!
But my time for flower-gathering
is over, and through the dark night
I have not my rose, only the pain
remains.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Be Good Johnny
Skip de skip, up the road
Off to school we go
Dont you be a bad boy johnny
Dont you slip up
Or play the fool
Oh no ma, oh no da,
Ill be your golden boy
I will obey evry golden rule
Get told by the teacher
Not to day-dream
Told by my mother:
Be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good be good (johnny)
Be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good (johnny)
Be good be good.
Are you going to play football this year, john?
No!
Oh, well you must be going to play cricket this year then,
Are you johnny?
No! no! no!
Boy, you sure are a funny kid, johnny, but I like you! so tell me,
What kind of a boy are you, john?
I only like dreaming
All the day long
Where no one is screaming
Be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good be good (johnny)
Be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Be good be good be good
Johnny!
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're So Good
If you were an apple, I would take a bite
If you were a lemon, I would squeeze you tight
You're so good, I've got to have you
You're so good that nothing else matters
You're so good, you're so good, you're so good for me
If you were a penny, you'd be good as gold
If you were a snowball, I would love the cold
'Cause you're so good, I've got-got to have you
You're so good that nothing else matters
You're so good, you're so good, you're so good,
You're so good for me
If you were a candle, I would light your fire
And if you were hard labor, I would never tire
'Cause you're good, I've got-got to have you
You're so good that nothing else matters
You're so good, you're so good, you're so good
You're so good for me
You're so good for me
You're so good, you're so good, you're so good for me
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rose Amidst the thorns
Roses in profusion
bloomed along our garden wall.
They were both red and yellow-
tea hybrids, I recall.
There were thorns too,
as I well knew,
standing guard among the blooms.
A careless creature soon would learn
to give the rose wide berth
An agony of thorns awaits
the careless of the earth.
Yet thorns permit the bees to come
and pollen to transpose.
and, if careful, they'll admit
my own scent seeking nose
I think thorns serve their purpose well
else roses would be trampled
The thorns are roses' guardians
and not inconsequential.
Without a thorn, the rose, forlorn,
is destined for the ashes.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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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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Anguish Thoughts
I saw a flower
Not so fresh, enchanting
It has no sweet smell as roses have.
But it has the thorns of roses.
If I touch a flower
I can tell its soft or rough
But all flowers are soft
Soft petals with sweet fragrance
Make a flower beloved.
But I can’t touch this flower
For it is dangerous.
But worms found its bed
And going to destroy my little flower.
Can this secret love
Destroy her crimson petals?
poem by Abdul Hakeem Parannur
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Sweet Horn
WHAT is St. Francis' flower? 'T is not
The daisy nor the melilot,
Nor that white little flower that springs
In Grasmere's quiet garden-plot.
'T is not the lily-flower that blows
In some high heaven of repose.
'T is not the sorrow of the thorn,
Nor utter passion of the rose.
It is the wild-heart eglantine,
(Sweet bush to a far sweeter wine),
With joy for man, sweet-thorn for Christ,
Not pagan all, not all divine.
poem by Philip Henry Savage
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Oh, see how thick the goldcup flowers
Oh, see how thick the goldcup flowers
Are lying in field and lane,
With dandelions to tell the hours
That never are told again.
Oh may I squire you round the meads
And pick you posies gay?
--'Twill do no harm to take my arm.
'You may, young man, you may.'
Ah, spring was sent for lass and lad,
'Tis now the blood runs gold,
And man and maid had best be glad
Before the world is old.
What flowers to-day may flower to-morrow,
But never as good as new.
--Suppose I wound my arm right round--
''Tis true, young man, 'tis true.'
Some lads there are, 'tis shame to say,
That only court to thieve,
And once they bear the bloom away
'Tis little enough they leave.
Then keep your heart for men like me
And safe from trustless chaps.
My love is true and all for you.
'Perhaps, young man, perhaps.'
Oh, look in my eyes then, can you doubt?
--Why, 'tis a mile from town.
How green the grass is all about!
We might as well sit down.
--Ah, life, what is it but a flower?
Why must true lovers sigh?
Be kind, have pity, my own, my pretty,--
'Good-bye, young man, good-bye.'
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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A Beautiful Flower Blooming
A withered flower blooming again
breeze shook the flower
the sun is shining on flower
rain water to wash the dust-filled flower
abort storm petals
storm that renders the flower petals
polling beetle sucking painful
flower that bloom so bright today
beauty exudes an aura of coolness of the beholder
spread the fragrance that invites a bee to touch
although many other flowers around it
bees sucking the flower first
choose to suck and touch the flower
lately the flower
always bloom radiate beauty
a bee was not able to get away from the flower
a bee sucking the beautiful bloomington
always produce the honey taste good
really beautiful relationship between the flower and bee
both are very compatible and complement each other
poem by meti Rahmawati
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The Rose With Thorns
The rose with thorns
Beautiful passion red rose
But dangerous with thorns
Picked off the garden
By a bard on
Realize he was bleeding
Thought roughly about his feelings
About why the rose had thorns
Never again would he pick up the red rose with thorns
The rose only brought him pain
Thoe he did not go insane
By wanting to stomp on it
But he just forfeit on it
He just let the rose there on the ground
And the rose was hoping it would be found
So the bard on
Left the garden
Checked his finger with the thorn pulled it out
finger was bleeding and never looked back at the rose with the thorns
poem by Jose antonio Torres galeana
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The red rose flower, asked god
The red rose flower
Asked god
You have given me
Beautiful look
Sweet fragrance
Eye catching color
Everybody likes me
However,
Why have you given?
Thorns to my plant
God replied
No one gets every thing
He wants
Even all my children
Are not nice
I gave thorns to
Your plant
To protect you from
Careless hands
You should be contented
With what you have
Always bear in mind
Other flowers on the earth
Do not have
Even half the qualities
You have
02-03-2012
280-15-03-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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