Graves
I dreamed one man stood against a thousand,
One man damned as a wrongheaded fool.
One year and another he walked the streets,
And a thousand shrugs and hoots
Met him in the shoulders and mouths he passed.
He died alone.
And only the undertaker came to his funeral.
Flowers grow over his grave anod in the wind,
And over the graves of the thousand, too,
The flowers grow anod in the wind.
Flowers and the wind,
Flowers anod over the graves of the dead,
Petals of red, leaves of yellow, streaks of white,
Masses of purple sagging…
I love you and your great way of forgetting.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Related quotes
In Tintagel Graveyard
Who brought flowers to this grave?
I, said the wren.
I brought them as seeds and then
Watched them grow.
No, said the wind. That's not true.
I blew them across the moor and sea,
I blew them up to the grave's door.
They were a gift from me.
They came of their own accord,
Said the celandine.
I know best. They're brothers of mine.
I am Death's friend,
Said the crow. I ought to know.
I dropped them into the shadow of the leaning stone.
I brought the flowers.
No, said Love,
It was I who brought them,
With the help of the wren's wing,
With the help of the wind's breath,
With the help of the celandine and the crow.
It was I who brought them
For the living and the dead to share,
I was the force that put those flowers there.
poem by Brian Patten
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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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The Widow's Lament in Springtime
Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
Thirtyfive years
I lived with my husband.
The plumtree is white today
with masses of flowers.
Masses of flowers
load the cherry branches
and color some bushes
yellow and some red
but the grief in my heart
is stronger than they
for though they were my joy
formerly, today I notice them
and turn away forgetting.
Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Flowers in the Wind
Fortunate flowers ferment in favourable ways,
They grow utterly beyond control, ways are unlimited;
The stalks dance in the wind for they are soft
And the breezes turn shy of them,
For they are lucky to be washed.
The wind has washed the petals as well
And their clothing has arrived
With a burial, as it seems.
Fortune with plants is not of with animals,
The air is wind, the flowers are blown over with anger
As they have been unduly complimented.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Notebook Scraps
I, had my marker
I made my way
And the chances not taken
Have all slipped away
There are the leaves
Scattered over the grave
There lie the dreams
As fate has it's say
The cold wind blows
The chances not taken
Into the darkness
Will never be 'waken
Flowers
Are made of petals
Earth,
Wind,
Rain,
And sunlight too.
Then there are
Flowers not
Seen
Made of the
Eveningtime dew
poem by Midnights Voice
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Come With The Summer Leaves
Come with the summer leaves, love, to my grave,
And, if you doubt among the quiet dead,
Choose out that mound where greenest grasses wave
And where the flowers grow thickest and most red.
Come in the morning while the dews of night,
Which are fair Nature's tears in darkness shed,
Rim the sad petals nor are garnered quite,
Like my lost hopes untimely harvested.
Come to my grave--ah gather, love, those flowers!
Out of my heart they grow for your dear head.
These are its songs unwritten and all yours,
The love I loved you with and left unsaid.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Do Not Go To The Garden Of Flowers
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus,
and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.
A Sweet Comparison Between Flowers And Us
Flowers blossom in the sunlight,
As we all need sunlight to blossom
too.
Flowers love a good shower of
cool and refreshing water,
Like we all need a refreshing
shower too.
Flowers are cheerful when music
plays that beautiful song,
In the same way that favorite
song cheers us up.
The breeze of the wind gives us
that breath of life,
Flowers are filled with the
breath of life,
That the breeze provides.
Delicate flowers lose their petals
in need of nourishment,
Just like we lose a strand of hair
that needs to be nourished to grow
back again.
A good night's sleep help us to feel
refreshed,
Flowers need a good night's sleep
to feel refreshed and to blossom
beautifully.
A sweet comparison between flowers
and us,
Knowing how we are very much alike,
It makes a beautiful story.
poem by Derek James
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Twist Me A Crown Of Wind-Flowers
Twist me a crown of wind-flowers;
That I may fly away
To hear the singers at their song,
And players at their play.
Put on your crown of wind-flowers:
But whither would you go?
Beyond the surging of the sea
And the storms that blow.
Alas! your crown of wind-flowers
Can never make you fly:
I twist them in a crown to-day,
And to-night they die.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Under the Purple Flowers
In the purple flowers’ shade
You kissed me the first kiss.
The moon lit its light of jade;
The cicadas sang their song of bliss.
Then, time passed fast and blind;
You went to your studies above
Leaving the purple flowers behind
With such a dreamlike love.
In each letter sent to the old place
You said you still missed this start
With the purple flowers of grace
And this young and true heart.
I have come back each day alone
To see the old flowers obsess
And hear the cicadas groan;
I feel such a vague distress.
I have nurtured my pastoral love
Now that summer is back to see
With the purple flowers above
I am an amorous banyan tree.
poem by ThanhThanh NhuanLe
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The Death of the Flowers
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread;
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchids died amid the summer glow;
But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died,
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side.
In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast the leaf,
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief:
Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Purple Flowers
Purple Flowers
To my Violette
Memory;
Of my mother.
Alive and laughing pretty,
putting flowers in a vase,
water for the roots.
Why mommy, why do you do that?
A little boy full of wonder___
life can be like that.
So I can save them and see them,
because I love you.
Picking purple flowers,
purple flowers in the rain,
purle flowers hide my pain.
You do love me dont you mother,
purple flowers,
stain.
Charles R Hice
Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice
poem by Charles Hice
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Watching the seasons
Behind these bars
Children wear thick clothes
Snowflakes land on their noses
They create little snow angels
Snowmen and snowballs
Christmas trees alight
Angels on top of them
It is Winter
Behind these bars
I watch the flowers bloom
Snow melts away
Birds chirping and singing
Lovers hold each other tight
Buds open and grow
Sweet smells conquer the air
It is Spring
Behind these bars
The sun watches over
People change their clothes
They sit at the beach
The farmers harvest their crops
Crop and farmer sharing secrets
Whispering in the heat
It is Summer
Behind these bars
Leaves dance all the world's dances
The nude trees shiver in the wind
People drag their umbrellas
Struggle cleaning their leaves
Thousand referees whistling
The howling wolves unleashed
It is Autumn
Behind these bars
Snowflakes are my family
Flowers are my perfume
Wind is my music
Thank you judge and jury
For I will die here
Watching the seasons
poem by Mariam de Haan
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Flowers In The Window
when i first held i was cold
a melting snowman i was told
but there was no one there to hold
before i swore that i would be alone for ever more
wow look at you now
flowers in the window
it's such a lovely day
and i'm glad you feel the same
cos to stand up
out in the crowd
you are one in a million
and i love you so let's watch the flowers grow
there is no reason to feel bad
but there are many seasons to feel sad glad mad
it's just a bunch of feelings that we have to hold
but i am here to help you with the load
wow look at you now
flowers in the window
it's such a lovely day and i'm glad you feel the same
cos to stand up
out in the crowd
you are one in a million
and i love you so let's watch the flowers grow
so now we're here and now is fine
so far away from there and there is time time time
to plant new seeds and watch them grow
so there'll be flowers in the window when we go
wow look at us now
flowers in the window
it's such a lovely day and i'm glad you feel the same
cos to stand up
out out in the crowd you are one in a million and i love you
so let's watch the flowers grow
oh wow look at you now flowers in the window
it's such a lovely day
and i'm glad you feel the same cos to stand up
out in the crowd
you are one in a million
and i love you so let's watch the flowers grow
let's watch the flowers grow
song performed by by Travis from The Invisible Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
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Frangipanis
With bright arms spreading grabbing
the two frangipanis embrace each other,
reach with their fingers to the sun
in a age old gesture
and sometimes they look wild and disorderly
before their flowers burst out in light turquoise
and the wind spread their fragrance,
then they display flowers new and fresh,
while yellow weavers sing happily in their branches
and bees buzz past their flowers.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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Bring Me Flowers
Bring me flowers when I am living
Don't bring me them when I am dead
Let me enjoy them in the giving
My mother always had said.
Let me hold them in my hands
and smell there fragrant scent
Then I will reminisce of different lands
Before; I am heaven sent.
I will reflect back when I was young
Or I might think back not long ago
When I walked underneath the sun
Or when I felt the wind as it blowed.
Bring me flowers when I am here
Please don't wait until I am gone
So I might reflect to a different year
And my memories will last on.
I might reflect to a different time
With every breadth and scent I breath
And knowing the flowers are mine
Shows how much that you love me.
Let me enjoy the flowers again
Let me feel them on my fingers
Because I just don't know when,
And how long my memory will linger.
Bring me flowers with a smile
Please don't bring them with any sorrow
And I will hold them just like a child
As I held you, and held on till tomorrow.
I want to see them once again
As I place them on my table
And then they will be my friend
And I will greet them when I am able.
They will be a part of me
My mothers always had said
So bring them now to me please
And don't wait until I am dead.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Prayer of Flowers
Behind the flowers an angel sings
Every hour showers what life brings
Be patient my friends and grow
Love always shows the way home
Earth kisses flowers of sky blue
Joy is a gift in the soul of the true
Bring your smiles of gentle hope
May all your heart be known
May all your dreams like flowers grow
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Bright Yellow Petal Flowers Imagination Showers
in life I never drank dandelion wine
for sour grapes bitter tastes I had no time
upon rich green grass map child like flowers
bright yellow petal flowers imagination showers
through blue skies or grey watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds souls through wonder ranges
yellow petals one day transform into white honeycomb
fade into spectral preparation seeds in readiness to roam
dandelion seeds are spun web silk threads of freedom life
carried away by gust breath of wind or child’s puff glow spice
tiny silk stem parachute flowers, freedom launch breath awaiting
to travel like tiny parachutes, on breeze wind wonder never abating
strong wind can carry tiny flower parachutes, miles away from parent
plant yet freedom seed flying stays, within wonder of any vision heart
poem by Terence George Craddock
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