En.Citatepedia^®.ro

What? No one wants my bouquet! Somebody better pick it up! Somebody better pick up my bouquet!

quote by Mark McKinney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flowers

(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pick It Up Or Be Gone

Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Don't try to imitate,
Homemade cake.
Oh no.
And don't ever try to duplicate,
A delicious taste.
Or...
Butter up faked mashed potatos.

Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
Oooow.
Pick it up or be gone.
Yeah.
Pick it up or be gone.
Now...
Pick it up or be gone!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John Ballard

In the lust of my strength
I cursed God, but he paid no attention to me:
I might as well have cursed the stars.
In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resolute
And I cursed God for my suffering;
Still He paid no attention to me;
He left me alone, as He had always done.
I might as well have cursed the Presbyterian steeple.
Then, as I grew weaker, a terror came over me:
Perhaps I had alienated God by cursing him.
One day Lydia Humphrey brought me a bouquet
And it occurred to me to try to make friends with God,
So I tried to make friends with Him;
But I might as well have tried to make friends with the bouquet.
Now I was very close to the secret,
For I really could make friends with the bouquet
By holding close to me the love in me for the bouquet
And so I was creeping upon the secret, but --

poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am About To Sleep

darkness comes
it is routine, nothing is mysterious about it
and as usual i am about to sleep
but you are there knocking at the door
of my heart
bringing me a bouquet of vowels
looking like petals of the
blue flowers in the desert
i let you in and i take the bouquet of vowels
and shower it
sprinkle it
with the salt of my tears.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.

You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My First Bouquet

He brought to me a sweet bouquet
that sparkled in the light.
I touched the hand that picked the flowers,
daisies all so white.
When he left I held them close
afraid that I might cry.
If only I could keep them
and never let them die.

But tears that flow
and flowers that grow
can both be dried you know?
Thinking of this brought a smile,
never a falling tear.
My first bouquet would last forever
inside pages I revere.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bouquet

He brought to me a sweet bouquet
that sparkled in the light.
I touched the hand that picked the flowers,
daisies all so white.
When he left I held them close,
afraid that I might cry.
If only I could keep them
and never let them die.
But tears that flow
and flowers that grow
can both be dried you know.

The thought of this brought a smile
and never brought a tear.
My first bouquet would last forever
between pages I revere.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick Yourself Up Off the Bottom

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
B ah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Get back to a simpler time.
If not just in your mind...
When you found a reason and rhyme.
To unwind.

Get back to a purposeness.
When you had much more sense.
And your mind wasn't condensed...
To accepting false lies...
To fly like they do!

Hop-in-that-taxi...and get back to you.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Doo-doo-doo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
B ah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
B ah dum.
Pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

B ah dum.
And-pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
B ah dum.
Just pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
Bah dum.
Pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.
Bah dum.
Just pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

Doo-doo-d oo-doo do...Bedoo.
Bedoobe doo-bee-do...Be-dooooo-beeeeahhh.
Bah dum.
Giddyup, giddyup, giddyup, giddyup...and
Pick-yourself-up-off-the-bottom.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Birthday Mom

Happy Birthday Mom
You mean so much to me
I’ll cook you a delicious meal
And serve it with sweet tea

I’ll pick you a bouquet of flowers
I’ll clean your house so you can rest
We’ll visit the entire day
Because you truly are the best

I’ll bake your very favorite cake
Chocolate tops your list
I’ll sing Happy Birthday to you
And I’ll end it with a kiss

So happy birthday mom
My wish for you all year
Is smiles and laughter every day
And shed only happy tears!

poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bouquet and Bracelet

Bouquet said: “My floral ring
The homage of a heart encloses,
Whose thoughts to you go worshipping
In perfume from my blushing roses.”

Bracelet said: “My rubies red,
Though hard the gleam that each exposes,
Will last when flowers of Spring are fled
And dead are all the Summer roses.”

Beauty mused awhile, and said,
“Here’s poesy!” and sighed, “Here prose is
Bouquet! I choose the rubies red!—
In Winter they will buy me roses.”

poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bouquet Of Flower

A bouquet of flower
lying under the feet,
I saw one day, on the
the Romantic street.
A little girl was crying,
it was perhaps her.
it fell from her hand,
and smashed under the car!
I asked what she cried for-
told she bought, for mom's grave.
But, the bouquet was spoiled,
and she couldn't manage to save.
The red roses and fern,
made the heaven once
turned to suddenly to
a lump of red flesh by chance!
My eyes filled with
tear, as I perceived,
my own melted heart,
is lump being perished!

poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Always There Is More To Life

life is not
a box of chocolates,
it's a bouquet of
flowers
colors of delight
scents of desire
so light
to the heart

it is what i hold
for you
in my hands
life so full of
flowers

but always there
is more to life
we feel it
when the bouquet is
finally thrown to the
air
and another one
expectant holds
it dear

someday
life will be different
a tree full of fruits
at night
fireflies in
freedom to shine
their own
lights

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Giving Force

the earth is a bouquet of flowers

it bears good news
adam bears good news

adam is a bouquet flowers
he is earth exemplified
life giving force of earth

which inch of earth has
not really teemed with life?

those who had passed away
are in the flowers, in the trees -
standing tall

adam is a bouquet of flowers
earth exemplified
the beauty of its life giving force

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Few Can Pick Them To Then Run

How can one live without risks.
Or prevent risks to exist.
Risk taking is a part of this life lived,
As it is...
For everyone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

How can one live without risks.
Or prevent risks to exist.
Risk taking is a part of this life lived,
As it is...
For everyone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

Living life is taking risks.
And no one living can resist...
Those risks.

Few can pick them to then run,
From those risks.
Few can pick them to then run,
From those risks.
Few can pick them to then run...
To be undone.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Us

I once stood alone, then,
I followed your lead.
I slipped through your grasp, and
Fell into oblivion.
It was just you and I together,
Gazing into each other’s eyes,
Just you and I …dazzling they were, those eyes,
Piercing and lingering were our glances-
Our smiles, frozen, and
Your countenance, pallid, but
Not lacking expression-
That was the day I tried to
Pick up the pieces of our nightmare, after
Too much hail had come down.
We had both slipped and fallen, and while I rose to my feet,
You lay quietly and motionless.
I walked into the twilight sky, as
The sun was setting, and simultaneously
The full moon was mounting over the horizon…
You stood and walked slowly, following in my footsteps, as
The sky blackened-
The man- in- the- moon laughed and laughed as
You followed my lead, and in that moment
I broke into a run. You tiptoed slowly behind me, until
I looked over my shoulder and saw that
You had disappeared somewhere inside the hovering fog.
I may have picked a bouquet of wilted dandelions for you and
Handed them to you, if I were to hear you calling my name, and in turn,
You would pick for me wild violets and forget- me –knots,
Though I never would have surmised-
I can still hear your tears
Splashing, one by one onto the pond where
We used to meet.
I stand here alone, never again to follow your lead, although
I f I could I would
Give to you every flower I could pick, and together
We would walk into the starlit night,
I can now feel your pain, cry your tears and look up towards the sky, as
The man- in-the- moon would grin wryly and just
Keep on laughing and laughing…

Claudia Krizay

poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Flattened Flower From the Bouquet

Some say to me I'm pitiful
craving the joy you intend for another
I'm the shadow roommate
the homely friend of the beautiful
girl she is;
the one you'll marry
and I will position myself
for the bouquet
when it is you I want.

You knock and enter;
I lower my eyes
unable to look at you
and you take a flower
from her bouquet
and give it to me
because that is the way you are
kind to everyone.

And I take it to my diary
and put it between my
written pages
where it will scent my thoughts
of what will never be.

The cruelest love of all
lies in that Love's Aspiration
lies dead in the road
unnoticed.
It's not your fault or hers
it's my own secret obsession
from which I'll never be free.

I sit in the window, looking out down below
and I hear your voice:

' I just want you to know
I think you are great'
and then you left
and I could hear her
crying softly
in a bedroom
full of tears
and I rise to look to see about her
trailing guilt
and hope against hope
and wonder
still reeling
from the fact
that you
had spoken to me;

no longer invisible
filled with your words which have splattered
onto me
intended from my roommate
electrified that you noticed me
a single flower from a bouquet
intended for her-

awakening then
from yet another daydream
of you
and me.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The bouquet [Buchetul]

The sun was shining high above
When I gave you in a bouquet
My precious and consuming love
And my heart's secret in that day.
The posy was my youth, my pearl,
And if today lies withered here,
You maybe didn't kiss it, girl,
O, lovely Mary, O, my dear.

For eons you cannot be mine,
You know it and I know it well,
But love is like a sweet red wine
And getting sober is a hell.
Yet, when in reverie you're caught,
If you can see that bouquet clear,
Give to the poet a nice thought,
O, lovely Mary, O, my dear.

poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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The Unsold Bouquets

the remaining bouquets
the flowers are still fresh
but this late valentine night
they look particularly
bare of hope for a sale
three bouquets on a table
that have become too big for them

during the day, there were
so many of them
one over the other
a city of eager lovers
head over heels
in choosing of the best roses
to convey their feelings
to their fancied

flowers, blooms, blossoms
their grace, fragrance and
semblance of intimacy
won the day for the
hot blooded men who wilted
in the face of transmitting
their innermost thoughts
to their new loved ones

so many of his hearts went
into the girl's when she
acceped his bouquet
so many of his lovelorn nights
turned into nights of hope

now a girl in a condominium
still carries a dream to have
that sweet bouquet from
her secret love

a three-year dream
a bouquet a year
that's three bouquets

three bouquets that sit
on a big vacant heart

longing to be bought
longing to be given away
longing to fill up a lonely heart
giving her life the colours she longs for

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick Me Up

Sittin in my pickup truck
Listening to the country station
Singer singing bout a lasting love
Me, Im losing patience
cause I dont know what hes talking about
I fell so far that I cant get out
A helping hand on a hopeless heart
Is all I need for a brand new start
Chorus
Pick me up so I can fall again
Help me get back on my feet again
I gotta get back to ground zero
Before I have a chance to win
Pick me up so I can fall again
She sits down beside me at the caf bar
Lookin better than she ought to
Another chance for true romance
And I pray that it wont fall thru
I hope you know what Im talkin about
Im in so deep that I cant climb out
A healing hand on a hurtin heart is all I need
For a brand new start
Pick me up so I can fall again
Chorus
Pick me up, pick me up
Pick me up so I can fall again

song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pick A Fight

I can't be happy without you
You can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight now
You say it's written in the stars
Some psychic read it in my cards
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me

You say that I'm the only one
The one you're looking for
Try and keep a straight face when you laugh
You talk to me like I'm a saint
But all your friends just say
We have been so over for some time

And I know that you had the best intentions for me
I know that what you're saying is goodbye

I can't be happy without you
You can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight now
You say it's written in the stars
Some psychic read it in my cards
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me

You say you changed your mind again
You don't know how you feel
Give me some more time is what you say
You wanna use me like a toy
That you get bored with
Now you wanna store me far away

And I know that you had the best intentions for me
I know that what you're saying is goodbye...goodbye

I can't be happy without you
You can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight now
You say it's written in the stars
Some psychic read it in my cards
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me

I can't be happy without you
I can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me
I can't be happy without you
I can't be happy without me
Still you always wanna pick a fight with me

You always say what you don't mean
You always say the things that hurt me
Why do you pick a fight with me?
You always say what you don't mean
You always say the things that hurt me
Why do you pick a fight
Why do you pick a fight
You always pick a fight with me

song performed by by Goldfinger from Stomping Ground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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