Garden Center
There she sits in the midst of my garden
beneath the roses and poses;
delighting in the daffodils like those on the hill.
The sun opened four eyes-
colorful tulips and her brown eyes
The sun just opened before my eyes.
Oh my, what a chore to reach the core!
Look at her hoeing and weeding,
flinging sweat from her brow;
to behold the beauty within.
Just clear the “stuff”-
hurts and pains;
blames and shames;
cruses and lies;
chameleonic righteous
and their exaggerated colors!
Destroy the lies, then
bury them in a sand hole.
only in her rich garden flowers grow
look at how she takes great pleasure
in tending her garden and share
the fruits of her labor.
Almedia S. Knight or ASK
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Garden, The
do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
There's a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesn't lie.
He doesn't wait for love to hold on to
He doesn't lie. he doesn't wait...
Johnny's in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Margaret
I KNOW a garden where white lilies grow,
Under the grey sweet-laden apple boughs;
It is a garden where the roses blow,
And honeysuckle covers half the house.
O happy garden, do you keep the vows
Breathed in your quiet ear beneath the rose,
Or do you tell the tale to each soft wind that blows?
Across your grassy paths she used to stray,
She moved among you like a living flower,
Her beauty drank your beauty every day,
Your beauty decked her beauty every hour.
You gave her rose and lily for a dower,
With all sweet flowers and fruits your bosom bore--
She took them all--and now she comes not any more.
O garden, if you breathe such secret things
To the south wind who loves you, tell him this:
To spread the scented softness of his wings,
And seek that other garden where she is,
And bid him bear no blossom and no kiss;
Only, dear garden, tell the wind to say
How grey the world is grown since Margaret went away!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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My Rainbow Garden
I have a Rainbow Garden
For inside of it you’ll see
Every color you would find
What a rainbow ought to be
The blue is for Forget-me-knots
Yellow for Daffodils
Red is for my gladiolas
My flowers are such a thrill
Green creates the many leaves
Of my Rainbow Garden too
I get such peacefulness
I would love to show it to you
My roses, oh I have many
My palette of color shades
I must enjoy them daily
For the time for them will fade
So if you’re feeling weary
And you don’t know what to do
Plant flowers of all colors
And have a Rainbow Garden too!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Song V
THE sunshine of your presence lies
On the glad garden of my heart
And bids the leaves of silence part
To show the flowers to your dear eyes,
And flower on flower blooms there and dies
And still new buds awakened spring,
For sunshine makes the garden wise,
To know the time for blossoming.
Night is no time for blossoming,
Your garden then dreams otherwise,
Of vanished Summer, vanished Spring,
And how the dearest flower first dies.
Yet from your ministering eyes
Though night hath drawn me far apart
On the still garden of my heart
The moonlight of your memory lies.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Now I ask you to Pick Me
Look not at wilted garden were
roses and gardenias once grew-
that infurtle place were fresh
firm fruits once flowed and
unmarked cherries hung untouched.
Now take a look at your golden crop
ripen to pick and happy as a lark
singing and dancing all the sun long;
with all this time we can play.
A wish race through mind...
will you pick me?
Almedia S. Knight ASK
May 3,2008
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Scions
She is pale in her flower garden.
Unlike the colorful earthbound tenants
populating the rows and beds.
Some uninvited and resisting eviction,
as she roughly snatches them like hair
from fecund scalp.
She is kneeling like a penitent
lost to her prayers.
Oblivious to the rest of it.
I watch her from the window
as I wrestle with form.
Choosing words over feelings.
Weeding desperately in my garden.
Trying to see the flowers
through the carnivorous weeds.
She is better in her work.
Drawing pleasure from the honesty and simplicity
of noble nurturing effort.
While I on the contrary,
an insane gardener, murdering
the flowers with my reach.
poem by George Murdock
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When You Define A Thing
when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest
it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,
but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds
a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Cow (Chapter 2, Verses 265-266, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Those who spend their property
To seek pleasure of Allah the Giver and Great
And to uphold their mindset
Their reward is like a hilltop garden
Upon which if heavy rain falls
Its fruits become twofold then
But if heavy rain does not fall
Drizzling is enough for the garden too
Allah sees whatever you do.
Is there one of you who wants
A garden of palms and vines
With streams flowing beneath it
All kinds of fruits will be there
Then you will become gray-haired
And you will have weak offspring
When a fiery whirlwind will smite that garden
It will become blasted then.
Thus Allah makes the communications loud and clear
With a view to boosting up your thinking power.
poem by Asif Andalib
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So, so, rock-a-by so!
So, so, rock-a-by so!
Off to the garden where dreamikins grow;
And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes,
And here is a kiss on your dimpledown cheek
And here is a kiss for the treasure that lies
In the beautiful garden way up in the skies
Which you seek.
Now mind these three kisses wherever you go -
So, so, rock-a-by so!
There's one little fumfay who lives there, I know,
For he dances all night where the dreamikins grow;
I send him this kiss on your droopydrop eyes,
I send him this kiss on your rosyred cheek.
And here is a kiss for the dream that shall rise
When the fumfay shall dance in those far-away skies
Which you seek.
Be sure that you pay those three kisses you owe -
So, so, rock-a-by so!
And, by-low, as you rock-a-by go,
Don't forget mother who loveth you so!
And here is her kiss on your weepydeep eyes,
And here is her kiss on your peachypink cheek,
And here is her kiss for the dreamland that lies
Like a babe on the breast of those far-away skies
Which you seek -
The blinkywink garden where dreamikins grow -
So, so, rock-a-by so!
poem by Eugene Field
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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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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An Argument With You
you must not expect that i give up
the world that i built for all my years
my sweat my labor my dreams
shall they all perish this minute
just for me to prove that
i love you? if you love me enough
you must not attempt to destroy
my world
you must let it grow and lavish
upon itself the fruits
and flowers and seeds
as i have loved you and as you have loved me
we must keep this secret garden
no one must know not even the left hand
of yourself
we make this love hidden from the eyes of all of them
a love misunderstood
as sin
for in the darkness of the nights of our beings
this love glistens as the most beautiful star
you must wake in the middle of the night
to see how beautiful it is when left alone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Garden
My heart is a garden tired with autumn,
Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark,
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,
The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark;
Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning,
And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain --
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten --
After the stillness, will spring come again?
poem by Sara Teasdale
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The Fury Of Hating Eyes
I would like to bury
all the hating eyes
under the sand somewhere off
the North Atlantic and suffocate
them with the awful sand
and put all their colors to sleep
in that soft smother.
Take the brown eyes of my father,
those gun shots, those mean muds.
Bury them.
Take the blue eyes of my mother,
naked as the sea,
waiting to pull you down
where there is no air, no God.
Bury them.
Take the black eyes of my love,
coal eyes like a cruel hog,
wanting to whip you and laugh.
Bury them.
Take the hating eyes of martyrs,
presidents, bus collectors,
bank managers, soldiers.
Bury them.
Take my eyes, half blind
and falling into the air.
Bury them.
Take your eyes.
I come to the center,
where a shark looks up at death
and thinks of my heart
and squeeze it like a doughnut.
They'd like to take my eyes
and poke a hatpin through
their pupils. Not just to bury
but to stab. As for your eyes,
I fold up in front of them
in a baby ball and you send
them to the State Asylum.
Look! Look! Both those
mice are watching you
from behind the kind bars.
poem by Anne Sexton
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The Flowers In Your Garden
you are telling me that the flowers in your garden
must not be of one and the same kind
or else there will be so much boredom
you are telling me the need of variety:
roses and jasmines
and suntans and daisies, colors and scents all in multiplicity
as you talk your eyelashes curve a little lower than i expected
and your mouth twitches a little bit just to show your dislike
and contempt of the word:
boredom
unnecessary uniformity, that human need of variety
equated with a taste for something new
and even unusual
i completely agree with you.
Let me take you inside my heart
where my garden lies:
flowers of different colors and scents
i have grown them all inside my heart,
feelings of love and
desire, in a variety or sorts
in a diversification of breeds
and if by now you ask me and demand
that i may tell the truth
inside my heart, in my garden of love, you are a very beautiful flower
so sweet scented and well loved and cared by me
but there are other beautiful flowers growing in there,
you are not
just the one and only, as you would like to think
that to be
and i will tell you again,
I agree with you, there is a need really
for a variety,
the one that removes the word
boredom
from the beautiful garden of our vocabulary.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beauty In Essence
I read beautiful sentence 'beauty is joy forever'
How best to understand 'beauty lies in the eyes of beholder'
I was restless and decided to search
But I had imagined it as beyond reach
God only knows how to define beauty
He has created it and certainly is his duty
I shall have to feel or be the part of beautiful universe
If I am granted black color then it should not be the cause of curse
Oh God! What a project I have taken on hand?
Not even almighty has tried to understand
It was freely distributed on earth by nature
Many flowers have come up in garden to reassure
'No, it can't be as simple as that' I was amused
I opened eyes but in misbelieve refused
Why was it not attracting as it should have been?
I thought for a while but lacked the power to be called divine
Wherever I moved and tried to guess
I saw the same power with divine face
He was there in each particle
Each one speaking itself as independent article
I found beauty in black eyes
With same attraction and force it tried
Not that white lacked any appeal
But black represented nothing to repeal
I raised my hands and looked at his mighty power
Only rain god had the blessings to offer
Bring life and beauty to earth in general
So many appeared quickly and many disappeared with funeral
I tried to read and decode the beautiful language
I was not young enough to understand that page
Where all the material was available to feel beautiful
But I found it at no place and remained unsuccessful
I find each object better than the other
Among the females I could see only mother
In the garden I could find only rose flower
Where else I need to go now to find beautiful cover?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Emily's Garden
The Red Tulips are so captivating--
And the Dandelions just seem to roar---
Astonishing Mother Earth-who'd just given birth--
To the Daffodils only just moments before;
The Yellow colour is so delightful--
That it all but drowns out the Buttercups hue--
Blazing like no other in the Garden----
They are what give this Garden its majestic view;
Let us not forget the Crocus standing proud---
Nor the Violet or Lilac in the Garden Glen---
A Purple Haze can be sooo insightful---
Most especially with the Lavender 'round the bend;
Oh sooo many colours complete it--
This Garden of the World-upon Gods Green Earth--
That i simply must take time to express it---
To say: 'Thank you' for all the flowers most glorious birth! ;
'She slept beneath a tree--
Remembered by me
I touched her cradle mute-
She recognized the foot--
Put on her carmine suit
And see'
Emily Dickinson
1830-1886
This is a dedication to: The exibition in New York
'Emily Dickinson's Garden: The Poetry Of Flowers
At The New York Botantical Gardens in the Bronx Borough
Of New York. It is opening a garden inspired by 19th century poet Emily Dickinson. The exibition runs through June 13,2010.
poem by Theodora Onken
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