Everyone has enemy
Everyone has enemy
Even prophet Jesus had enemies
Some great personalities are like roses
They spread fragrance in the garden of human race
But they live in the thorny branches
And amongst the spiky leaves
Even a gentle wind can hurt them
poem by Asif Andalib
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Winter Sunset
Roses in the sky,
Roses in the sea
Bowers of scarlet sky-roses
Take my heart and me.
God was good to make,
This December weather,
All this sky a rose-garden,
Rose and fire together.
To the East are burning
Roses in a garden,
Roses in a rosy field,
Hesper for their warden.
Yonder to the West
Roses all afire,
Mirror now some rare splendid
Rose of their desire.
Pulsing deeper, deeper,
Waves of fire throb on,
Never were such red roses
At sunset or dawn.
Roses on the hills,
Roses in the hollow,
Roses on the wet hedges,
In the shining fallow.
West wind, blow and blow!
That has blown ajar
Gates of God's great rose-garden,
Where His Angels are,
Gathering up the rose-leaves
For a shower of roses
On the night the Lord Babe
His sweet eye uncloses.
All the sky is scarlet
Flaming on the azure.
O, there's fire in Heaven
My heart aches with pleasure.
Leagues of rose and scarlet,
Roses red as blood:
All the world's a rose-garden.
God is good, is good.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Wind, One Brilliant Day
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses.'
'I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead.'
'Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.'
the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
'What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?'
poem by Antonio Machado
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Pining to paint
early morn
a tree of song
in the garden
branches -
spread everywhere
and dance
in the wind
light bristles
with leaves
in this heart
a blind artist
pines to paint
orchestrates
the first delight
of day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Fallen Leaves
A gentle
breeze
blew leaves
upon your
tree.
They clung
to the
branches,
refusing
to
surrender.
A violent
storm
appeared,
beat
against
your
branches.
Disturbing
the
leaves.
They
held
firm,
until
they
couldn't
hold
any
longer.
The
pressures
of life, so
great
they fell
away
crying.
poem by Heather Burns
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Pink Rose
Somewhere
Upon my doorstep
A pink rose
Lay dying,
Although I never meant to hurt anyone,
All I could do was to pluck it from its branch
Not to give it to you –
Or to anyone,
Moreover,
Though-
It now lies haphazardly, and awkwardly
Alone in the grass in a graveyard
Withering –
All of its life has been usurped,
And-
All that is left alive is one thorn
Upon its stem,
Sticking into my side.
I cry out in pain,
But death never makes me weep, only laugh-
I know your father died some year’s ago-
Pink roses were laid upon his gravesite-
Everyone mourned, except for myself;
I placed my hand over may mouth and giggled.
I pick flowers, most often roses,
Wherever I walk,
Knowing they cannot live, when broken form their branches.
I laughed at your father’s funeral last year,
And picked a hundred pink roses form his rose garden,
I believe,
I am so sorry,
I was just being me,
I never meant to hurt anyone.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Garden Of Roses
My garden of roses is dead
All the most beautiful flowers have wilted
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Like my love and my nurturing was nothing
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Nothing but dust in the wind is left
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Everything's gone and I feel so empty
And now the winter is here
poem by Triin Kann
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Poverty
Poverty is like a curse
It deprived Prophet Jesus
Of a wife and popularity
Prophet Muhammad
Became successful
Because he became rich
Poverty is like a torture
By the enemy
Without help from others
One cannot get rid of it
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Enchanted Garden
OH, what a garden it was, living gold, living green,
Full of enchantments like spices embalming the air,
There, where you fled and I followed--you ever unseen,
Yet each glad pulse of me cried to my heart, 'She is there!'
Roses and lilies and lilies and roses again,
Tangle of leaves and white magic of blossoming trees,
Sunlight that lay where, last moment, your footstep had lain--
Was not the garden enchanted that proffered me these?
Ah, what a garden it is since I caught you at last--
Scattered the magic and shattered the spell with a kiss:
Wintry and dreary and cold with the wind of the past,
Ah that a garden enchanted should wither to this!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Rustle
How fascinating the songs of the wind
Carrying up high the bird on spread wings
listen to the birds chirp,
and listen to the howls that are carried in the wind.
How enchanting to play with the wind
Subdued when watching the wind
the wind grabs the whisper and
carries around the world
only the wind decides where
it will take away the whisper...
The smell of blossoms blows with the wind
I search through the billion
In the field of gold and green
I smell them in my handz,
bt couldnt severalize...
their fragrance is under par.
that amply mesmerized..
A breeze brings along the fragrance of apricot flowers.
I couldnt feel the inner reality
that blows with the wind connotes diversity.
It scrawled the human mystery.
I search to find the birth of the wind
went up finding leaves rustle and bustle like a wing.
One thing in all things have I seen
In the hidden recess of the breaking sound.
I saw the flying vision there
in the deepest silence of sacred wind.
At last, at last, the meaning caught.
It shakes its wondrous plumes of thought
burning away all illusion.
unexpected, we are One and the same..
poem by Moumita .Aich
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Less’er Love, And A Rose, In My Garden
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…at times I have lesser love
And in less is more, very much more
…………….and there is this garden
..the garden, ours by the Grace of the Life Force, supreme God
..there is this Rose, and those Roses there… all chose a place to be
I, the Gardner choose the blooms from which Rose goes to the glass next my bed
I love this Rose, and less but similar those other
….they decide when to bloom
In sping late winter their souls weep, as I sheer, as I must
In spring and summer and early winter we rejoice as they bloom abundantly
…..every night one bloom from The Rose that’ad also chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…..only one Rose reads to me… I a lesser Gardener
Lesser, cause I’m only able t’love one Rose…..this Rose here
….those Roses there, some’r lessor Roses, some’r superior Roses, are my friends
Lesser in texture, shape and fiber and fragrance
Some superior in texture, or shape and or fiber and or fragrance
Friends equal in dimension with the Rose, but less in love than the Rose
…..every night one bloom from The Rose, that’s chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I, the gardener…. I prune, sheer…. at times
These other Roses who chose my garden
...so valuable in a muchness o’ Friendship,
…the quality their love much the same as that The Rose
Different the lesser my love, even though my caring equals that towards The Rose
We are blessed, those of us in the garden
…the magnificence of this garden in my life is the sumtotal of you all in my garden
I drink your fragrance intoxicated with love
I love The Rose, and my friends these other Roses in the garden Bless this love
poem by Johan Fourie
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In The Garden I: The Garden
PAST the town's clamour is a garden full
Of loneness and old greenery; at noon
When birds are hush'd, save one dim cushat's croon,
A ripen'd silence hangs beneath the cool
Great branches; basking roses dream and drop
A petal, and dream still; and summer's boon
Of mellow grasses, to be levell'd soon
By a dew-drenched scythe, will hardly stop
At the uprunning mounds of chestnut trees.
Still let me muse in this rich haunt by day,
And know all night in dusky placidness
It lies beneath the summer, while great ease
Broods in the leaves, and every light wind's stress
Lifts a faint odour down the verdurous way.
poem by Edward Dowden
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Every-Year Valentine
Jesus, Dear Jesus,
We pray unto Thee
true words from the
heart of humanity...
singing to heaven
with hymnal refrain
sending thanks for
the angels as they
comfort our pain.
A mountain is lower
with Thee as our guide;
gentle Jesus forever
in our lifetime abide.
valentine roses...we
accept them from Thee;
they grow in our garden,
God's gift to humanity.
St.Valentine's Day 2009
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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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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Saying the unspeakable
Such as President Obama
may not say it; but I
who am nobody, may speak it:
the God of many names and One
does not wish division;
you and I (there are no others?)
do not wish division;
who makes division?
Why do all seek an ‘enemy’?
The dispossessed invent an enemy
on whom to blame their plight;
the rich invent an enemy
to excuse their greed;
those who worship God under one name
make enemy of those who worship God
under another name;
even those who worship God under the same name
make sects in order to invent an enemy;
is it because it is easier
to make an enemy than a friend?
is it easier to fear
than to love?
is it easier to hate
than to love?
is it easier to count to two
than think of three or one?
do we feel more powerful
if we have an enemy?
and now we fire at enemies
invisible beyond the horizon..
are enemies more attractive
to our life than friends?
Tell me, poets, tell me, sages;
tell me, saints; oh tell me God;
tell me, arithmeticians:
when division multiplies
our enemies, why do we
so love division?
The God of many names and One
makes division in Himself
with love and without hate;
you and I (there are no others?)
love each other all the more
in the sameness of our differences;
does human kind
now hate itself so much?
who thinks division, loves division?
makes an enemy of otherness?
forgets that God is One?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Leaves
There are leaves on my trees
that don't want to go.
They cling to their branches
and the wind does blow.
They defy the wind
as if to say
'It will take more than you
to take me away.'
We are in December
and still they're here.
Are they boldly waiting
to see the New Year?
If Christmas comes
with ice and snow,
maybe then
my leaves will go.
And I'll look once more
and I will know
that the wind did win
for the leaves did go.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Garden of Heaven
Gentle fog hovers over like a blanket
It hangs over the trees and kisses the grass
Roses are spotted with dew
This day is new
The sun crawls through the fog
Rays give a healthy glow to the garden
The musky smell of rains from yesterday reach my nose
As I drift through the garden on the cobblestone path
I walk lightly not wanting to disturb the peace
Of the crimson roses and gold freckled leaves
This is a time when all is serene
A time when things are looked at differently
A shabby worn house looks like a regal mansion
A wrinkled old maid looks like a glowing slender queen
So I walk through this garden of heaven and earth
And all I feel is happy and content
poem by Avalin Locke
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A Day In The Life Of A Tree
Feel the wind burn through my skin
The pain, the air is killing me
For years my limbs stretched to the sky
A nest for birds to sit and sing
But now my branches suffer
And my leaves dont bear the glow
They did so long ago
One day I was full of life
My sap was rich and I was strong
From seed to tree I grew so tall
Through wind and rain I could not fall
But now my branches suffer
And my leaves dont offer
Poetry to men of song
Trees like me werent meant to live
If all this world can give
Pollution and slow death
Oh lord I lay me down
No lifes left to be found
Theres nothing left for me
Trees like me werent meant to live
If all this earth can give
Is pollution
Trees like me werent meant to live
(oh lord I lay me down)
If all this earth can give
(my branches to the ground)
Is pollution and slow death
(theres nothing left for me)
Oh lord I lay me down
My branches to the ground
Theres nothing left for me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Angel Live Forever
Little angel live like a star
Shine like a star, Laugh like a twinkle
Stand in the sky and show the path
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a water
Accept the others faults, clean your own faults
Flow through the plains and quench the thirsty
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a fire
Warmth the people when they are cold
Control yourself and give the comfort
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a wind
Flow through the places and touch the people
Go through the flowers and spread the fragrance
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a sky
Open your heart widen like a sky
Let the little birds fly in it
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a tree
Help the humans and help the earth
Let the little birds rest in your branches
Little angel live forever
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
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Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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The fragrance of you..
Why do you hurt me with your thorny fingers,
When I do not even pull and hurt you,
But pluck you, when you sway with the wind.
The cold dews on the beautiful surface,
The elegant hips near blooming flowers,
The single petals perfectly arranged,
Each one of you uniformly differently shaded,
You are the symbol for love and compromise,
you are there to worship and worry,
When distilled to obtain a gram of fragrant oil,
Two thousands of you have to be sacrificed,
You are everywhere in the world,
Everyone welcomes you with open hands,
To hold your thorny stem and then,
Take you to their nose, The Rose.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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