Become divine
Each tree a Poetry
In its infinite variety
Each leaf a status
In its food-making process
Each flower a wonder
In its colour, fragrance and splendour
Each fruit a history
In its sweet-storing mystery
Each grass is precious
As in soil-holding it is cautious
Each cactus a marvel
In its tact in survival
Each orchid a sample
As its blossom ever an example
Each garden a universe
As it holds all these, in diverse
Each gardener a God
As he created this universe and takes guard
So to become divine
Develop a garden and maintain
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Related quotes
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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Flowers, Beautiful Flowers
Life is that precious and divine,
Souls journey as per schedule,
Visit places and people,
smile and laugh,
Weep and cry together,
Come alone and go alone,
Nothing brought, nothing taken!
Just it is like flower,
Blossom and spread its fragrance,
Put a signature on several hearts,
Gone flower, never come,
Memory of its beauty,
Aura remains all the time everywhere
In hearts of those who had seen it!
People too are like flowers,
That flowers in the garden of divine,
Some are beautiful,
Some by their wisdom and knowledge,
Some with deeds and virtues,
Flowers, beautiful flowers of God's Garden!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden
Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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One Song
I am the universe
The sun, the moon and sea
I am the energy
4 that is what I believe
I can be contradiction
Cuz that is all I see
But I am the universe
And the universe is me
I am the one song (Ah yes)
And that one song is free
All things come from this one song (Yes they do, uh)
The garden and the tree
If everything, everything is present
What is will always be
This here is the first and the last song
And all that come between
When language falls like a wounded soldier
And it's covered by the sea
All the sadness
All these unanswered questions
Keep me company
(Company, company, company come 2 me, come 2 me please!)
Here at the center of it all
(I know)
I know that U can only come from me
(I am the universe)
Yes it will, oh, yes it will
(The sun, the moon and sea)
Where else is it gonna come from but me?
(I am the universe)
Oh my, my my my my my my my universe
(The universe is me)
(I am the universe)
(The sun, the moon and sea)
(I am the universe)
(We are the universe) {x2}
(The universe is me)
One truth (One truth)
One song (One song)
One energy
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Be Or Don't Be (A Song)
I be or don’t be
Would be spreading whiff
As a blossom, As a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don‘t be
Whatever the weather
I always will be there
To keep the orchard fresh
And in colour of desire
Will be watering it ever
As a blossom as a bud
The orchard of love
I be or don’t be
I will unfurl my shirt
And sway in the breeze
Will glow like flower
On the blossom trees
Would spread fragrance
As a blossom as a bud
In the garden of love
I be or don’t be
When I won’t be there
Her eyes with tears
Would be finding me
She would stop in reverie
Where I will meet her
As a blossom, as a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don’t be
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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The Gardener
WITHIN this garden space are set
Sweet mignonette and violet,
Sunk in rich mould; at dawn and night
Their leaves dew-wet.
Who set them in the kindly loam
Lies buried 'neath the clover-foam
Of alien meadows, far away
From his loved home.
If it be glory thus to pass
For Honour's sake, and 'neath the grass
Red-wounded lie, then he, in truth,
Great glory has.
Yet, blossoms that he loved and set! —
Sweet mignonette, sweet violet —
Not Honour's self, nor Glory's crown,
Can stay regret.
'Twixt bud of leaf and fall of leaf,
Why should Fate in an hour so brief
Wreck flower and flower, and nurse alone
The cypress — Grief?
He is not gone — not all of him;
For trees have memories; leaf and limb
Shall breathe his name, and grateful flowers
At twilight dim.
For like these blooms, he left behind
Some fragrance, subtle and refined —
A memoried sweetness that shall haunt
Tree, flower and wind.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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When I look at the world around me
Pink, red and purple geraniums
that flower in the garden,
cannot grow without sunlight
and water.
Still, every different flower
has an own colour, a different odour
and the texture of flower cups
and the time that buds last
are different.
When I look at the world around me,
I know how a part
of You’re great omnipotence looks
and I see flowers dazzling everywhere,
to pay homage to You
from who
every thing comes
and every plant and flower
leaves me dumbstruck with beauty.
In all things, Your love is unlimited
and the greatness of Your works
tells me that I‘m also part
of Your making
and that all things fit somewhere
in Your universe.
poem by Gert Strydom
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At Parting II
AND you could leave me now--
After the first remembered whispered vow
Which sings for ever and ever in my ears--
The vow which God among His Angels hears--
After the long-drawn years,
The slow hard tears,
Could break new ground, and wake
A new strange garden to blossom for your sake,
And leave me here alone,
In the old garden that was once our own?
How should I learn to bear
Our garden's pleasant ways and pleasant air,
Her flowers, her fruits, her lily, her rose and thorn,
When only in a picture these appear--
These, once alive, and always over-dear?
Ah--think again: the rose you used to wear
Must still be more than other roses be
The flower of flowers. Ah, pity, pity me!
For in my acres is no plot of ground
Whereon could any garden site be found,
I have but little skill
To water weed and till
And make the desert blossom like the rose;
Yet our old garden knows
If I have loved its ways and walks and kept
The garden watered, and the pleasance swept.
Yet--if you must--go now:
Go, with my blessing filling both your hands,
And, mid the desert sands
Which life drifts deep round every garden wall,
Make your new festival
Of bud and blossom--red rose and green leaf.
No blight born of my grief
Shall touch your garden, love; but my heart's prayer
Shall draw down blessings on you from the air,
And all we learned of leaf and plant and tree
Shall serve you when you walk no more with me
In garden ways; and when with her you tread
The pleasant ways with blossoms overhead
And when she asks, 'How did you come to know
The secrets of the ways these green things grow?'
Then you will answer--and I, please God, hear,
'I had another garden once, my dear'.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Unmoved Mover, see who am I!
The Unmoved Mover!
The universe that moving,
The universe that is changing,
The universe that is playing,
Projecting and hiding,
Playing that hide and seek,
Who is that hides and who is that seeks,
Who is that moving the infinite universe?
The one, who that can Be moved by prayers,
Does he really move,
And can He move, before He move worlds for us?
He is infinite, filling all space,
Can he move the universe,
can he move it without the space
Can He move it without 'Time'
When He fills the space,
how can he move himself
or how can he move something in space?
He is the Unmoved Mover of universe,
He himself created room,
He Himself moved Himself in Himself
Creating Himself the time and space,
He Himself manifested at different points
And keeping space between these points,
Infinite He split himself into elements
five or a few
And created particles and forces between,
That expanded matter and space,
Created events,
so that the time has any meaning,
He Himself became nucleotides and cells,
Joined them as building blocks,
To build house for himself,
And became homesick always,
Yet wept for his lost glory and beauty,
Wanted to have back all that lost and hide,
When He was busy in building a nest for own!
He was thinker without brain,
And He is that,
He is I am,
'I am' is he,
If you ask 'who are you thee and
where are you thee? '
He replies, Iam tree in this tree,
I am the stone in this stone,
I am the star in this star,
Iam the air in atmosphere,
Iam the water in rivers and ocean,
I am the bacteria in this bacterial house,
Iam the bull in this bulls body,
I am the grass at your feet,
I am you in your body,
I am that in which I feel,
When you ask me who are me,
I say I a proud Hindu,
Or I say I am a proud sikh
Or I am a proud muslim
Or I am proud Christian,
Or A proud Aryan But I fail to say,
I am humble human,
Iam like point in infinite
universe, and is a child of God, all
are his children, so we are
brother and sisters!
And I am that infinite when I am in my own infinite glory and infinite beauty!
Look through you, I look at myself,
Look around, I look at myself from all around,
Look I am talking to myself,
I am that call myself as you when I see from that point from this point of space and time, both which have no existence without my folly in wisdom or wisdom in folly!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Sour Lemon Tree
A sour lemon tree flower attracts the bee
While its fruit is bitter not so its flower
White is its flower sweet and very pretty
Only the fruit is bitter and that's just a pity
As the beauty of its flower resist not a bee
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
With fruit that is bitter bears a lemon tree
But useful is its fruit good for everyday use
Once said a bee... your flower is very sweet
It carries fragrance scented out in the street
Yet bears you fruit bitter no one wants to eat
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
A citrus tree with fruit no other tree bears
Then out of the tree came a nice neat voice
'Twas like a voice of one who's very wise
This is what it said trees are not so free
One made a decree for every bearing tree
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
The Creator decides the fruit a tree bears
Whether it be bitter or whether it be sweet
The Creator decrees for every bearing tree
To bring forth fruit ordained for it to bear
Then sweet or bitter bears a tree its fruit
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree.
poem by Clarence Prince
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My Garden
My beautiful garden is talking to me
from weeds to my Japanese Cherry tree.
The ivy has climbed over fencing and wall.
It looks so amazing just now, as it's Fall.
Such fusions of colour hearten my day
I'm all of a flutter to see the display.
Bird's nests survive in the eaves of the house
and I can see squirrels scamper about.
I'm so in awe of this time of year
such lovely profusions of leaves all appear,
making a carpet on my garden floor,
a comforting layer for feet to tread on.
So this is my haven, my garden, my home,
where nature imposes its grandeur.
And I am humbled to look out and view
as my eyes are dazzled by splendour.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Mystery and Secret
Where is the mystery
Where is the secret
Life is a bet
We are our mate
We must be truthfull
Within us
We embodied entire universe.
Come and sing
The glory of the universe
Come and see
Multicolored
Multifacted universe
Declared we are for us.
We know the purpose
We know how to depict the universe
And we know the universe is
Within us
It is the mystery
It is the secret
We have with us.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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I think there is some kind of divine order in the universe. Every leaf on every tree in the world is unique. As far as we can see, there are other galaxies, all slowly spinning, numerous as the leaves in the forest. In an infinite number of planets, there has to be an infinite number with life forms on them. Maybe this planet is one of the discarded mistakes. Maybe it's one of the victories. We'll never know.
quote by John D. MacDonald
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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We have a Little Garden
WE have a little garden,
A garden of our own,
And every day we water there
The seeds that we have sown.
WE love our little garden,
And tend it with such care,
You will not find a faced leaf
Or blighted blossom there.
poem by Beatrix Potter
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I will love myself first
I am a flower
With a set of eight long petals
Shaped a bit long oval
Coloured sky-blue at the bottom
Turning bright-yellow at the top
And with long pollen sticks
White-headed peeping well out
I am an attraction to
Butterflies which keep probing
Me for the sweet nectar
I too attract insects
Very small in size
And which enjoy sliding into me
Along the slope of my petal
I hold for you a mild scent
That resembles the smell of jasmine
But because of the high ethanol content
In my fragrance
I smell with a fruitish tinge
While jasmine has a season to blossom
I am in blossom all through
Either it is winter, summer or raining
Lovers prefer me to rose
As I am big by look and thorn-less
Some devotees come to my bush
Every day and pluck me
And offer to Krishna
The God of the town
I appear much less in numbers
Compared to jasmine
But keep many garden corners
Smelling sweet with my
Special fragrance
I thought I am fine
And everyone else is also
Fine with me
Till that evening
Someone telling his lover
Not to pluck me
As he does not like the way I look
Next day morning
A mother was instructing
Her three year old son
Not to go near me
As my smell is allergic to him
It took just a day
For me to realize
There are so many others
Who have reasons for disliking me
Any way I cannot do anything
To change my looks
Or to change my scent
So determined was i
I will keep my colour
Looks and fragrance in tact
Whether people like it or otherwise
I will keep my glow
Whether insects get attracted or not
I am a creation of nature
I will enjoy being what I am
With all that nature has gifted me
And I will love myself first
Without bothering much
To know whether
Any one else loves me or not
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Rose
A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North,
Grew in a little garden all alone;
A sweeter flower did Nature ne'er put forth,
Nor fairer garden yet was never known:
The maidens danced about it morn and noon,
And learned bards of it their ditties made;
The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon
Water'd the root and kiss'd her pretty shade.
But well-a-day!--the gardener careless grew;
The maids and fairies both were kept away,
And in a drought the caterpillars threw
Themselves upon the bud and every spray.
God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies,
The fairest blossom of the garden dies.
poem by William Browne
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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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Flowery Garden
They blossom in the flowery garden
elaborating on details of colours
and the sweet fragrance of nature
In the corner
There lies the African Lily
Secret love of the nile
Swimming across many miles
The lily of the valley
whose tears
are washed beneath the earth
stands near the sunflower
who is filled with pride and power
The flowery garden displays
clones of different species
of a thousand lillies
representing life's symbolic gifts
perfumed air
sweet scents
rising from a flowery tent
as the roses auction
their coloured petals
A moment of ecstasy
reveals the orchid as it articulates
its blissful departure to the only Sweat Pea
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Songs Of Spring In The Garden
Have a lot on the ball in the garden
Have what it takes to make a good living
Geese perform a V-formation happen
Sparrows sing a same song whole day with spring
Squirrels put together trees up and down
Groundhogs take shower with warmly sunlight
Cactus has tested chilling in the town
Wild thornless rose has smiled applying a right
Elms with their new variant color shoot up
Previt with their piebald leaves move carefree
Poncirus in front of the door makeup
Mulberry listens to yellow jack bee
Host of garden thinks of with their future
Flower from soil is blooming great culture
poem by Hormish Woo
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
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