Daisies
In the democracy of daisies
every blossom has one vote.
The question on the ballot is
Does he love me?
If the answer's wrong I try another,
a little sorry about the petals
piling up around my shoes.
Bees are loose in the fields
where daisies wait and hope,
dreaming of the kiss of a proboscis.
We can't possibly understand
what makes us such fools.
I blame the June heat
and everything about him.
Submitted by Venus
poem by Connie Wanek
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Related quotes
Daisies All Over My Body
let daisies rain on
me and let all the daisies
cover my face my body
let daisies crown my head
my hair, my nose, let there
be daisies everywhere
inside, outside me
i am in love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Field Of Yellow Daisies
We met in a field of yellow daisies
Wild and young and free
And she picked a bouquet for me
She loved me...she loved me not
The daisies didn't lie
They knew better than I...she'd go away..yeah
But they didn't say why
Have you ever been in a field of yellow daisies
Where the air is warm, pure and sweet
Just as if the world is at your feet
She loved me...she loved me not
The daisies didn't lie
They knew better than I
She'd go away.....yeah
But they didn't say why
I may fail like petals from a daisy
But for her love I'll always yearn
Each year when yellow daisies return
She loved me...she loved me not
The daisies didn't lie
They knew better than I
She'd go away.....yeahhhh
But they didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why.........
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Do You Love, I Hope
I've got the question
I've had it for days
You've got the answer, dear
I'll put the question
In one little phrase
Say what I want to hear
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Who do you want I hope
Who do you need I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Is it the baker who gave you a cake
I saw that look in his eye
Is it the butcher who brought you a steak
Say that it is and I'll die
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
[2]
I heard your question
The answer you know
Love is my middle name
You asked a question
That worried you so
Mind if I do the same
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Who do you want I hope
Who do you need I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Is it the blondie who acted so shy
I heard the things that she said
Is it the redhead who gave you the eye
Say that it is and your dead
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Distant Worlds
who does not like to put some
yellow daisies on your black glossy hair?
you become so beautiful with a chain of yellow
daisies in your hair
where i can possibly touch them and caress them
and how would you know that this is more than just putting a chain of
daisies in your black hair?
you shall never know and that is good enough for me
for i am the simplest man that puts those chain of yellow daisies in your hair
no prince charming for you, nothing special
just another common friend putting those usual yellow daisies in your hair
when our hands touch by accident
how would you know that i have become a forest burning?
this burning fire that is softly killing me
how would you know? your world is open and mine is closed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wild Asters
In the spring I asked the daisies
If his words were true,
And the clever, clear-eyed daisies
Always knew.
Now the fields are brown and barren,
Bitter autumn blows,
And of all the stupid asters
Not one knows.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Daisy Time
See, the grass is full of stars,
Fallen in their brightness;
Hearts they have of shining gold,
Rays of shining whiteness.
Buttercups have honeyed hearts,
Bees they love the clover,
But I love the daisies' dance
All the meadow over.
Blow, O blow, you happy winds,
Singing summer's praises,
Up the field and down the field
A-dancing with the daisies.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Mother-Daughter Love
Among the daisies
sat the child,
looking so ever
meek and mild.
Mother sat down
by the child,
looked at her daughter
and sweetly smiled.
Picking the daisies
with the child,
from those gathered
a chain was stylized.
Around the neck
of the child,
she placed the chain
of daisies wild.
Touching the daisies
the deaf child,
looked at her mother
and sweetly smiled.
poem by Noline A.V. Johnson
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The Color Purple
The sun has risen bringing the end of
the dark kiss
while painting blood red across the sky
the wheat fields sway in the wind
the bees are landing on the yellow daisies
puppies are tromping around
playing hide and seek
two lovers holding on to each other
love pulsing within his blue eyes
echoing into his body then into hers
her pink lips touch his
and the orange flames of passion flare higher
in all of this my thought is
has nature for got about
the color purple
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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The Garden
She has a bed of daisies
she waters every day.
She knows when they start blooming
she’ll be far away
The water can she keeps filling,
the daisies are never dry
and their memory of her she is growing
til the day of her goodbye
Setting down the watering can.
It’s come now- way too soon.
Four days left to enjoy
this beauty she has brewed.
No twist of fate can end this need
to leave the place of love,
with all this tender care she’s given,
can she receive no compassion from above?
This morning came a joyous triumph
-the first bud is half bloomed.
Not as much can be said for the siblings
who grow taller –oh what a view.
They love her so and they don’t know
that in a few days she will leave.
BUT understand, when she comes back again,
none of their beauty can she retrieve.
And that is what makes her
so sad and alone
for these flowers she has dutifully cared,
And she won’t be home
when they become full-grown
of their condition on her return she is scared.
poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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Villanelle Of Marguerite's
'A little, _passionately, not at all?_'
She casts the snowy petals on the air:
And what care we how many petals fall!
Nay, wherefore seek the seasons to forestall?
It is but playing, and she will not care,
A little, passionately, not at all!
She would not answer us if we should call
Across the years: her visions are too fair;
And what care we how many petals fall!
She knows us not, nor recks if she enthrall
With voice and eyes and fashion of her hair,
A little, passionately, not at all!
Knee-deep she goes in meadow grasses tall,
Kissed by the daisies that her fingers tear:
And what care we how many petals fall!
We pass and go: but she shall not recall
What men we were, nor all she made us bear:
'_A little, passionately, not at all!_'
And what care we how many petals fall!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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for Nikki
no one can stop
the daisies from blooming
the sun on an early morning
always is there
to understand so now
prepare the desired colors
of your petals
show them
don't just wilt and die
without the touch of
sunshine
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Don't Blame Me
(dorothy fields, jimmy mchugh)
Don't blame me
For falling in love with you.
I'm under your spell
But how can i help it?
Don't blame me.
Can't you see
When you do the things you do
If i can't conceal
The thrill that i'm feeling,
Don't blame me.
I can't help it
If that doggone moon above
Makes me need
Someone like you to love.
Blame your kiss
As sweet as a kiss can be,
And blame all your charms
That melt in my arms,
But don't blame me.
(interlude)
Blame your kiss
As sweet as a kiss can be,
And blame all your charms
That melt in my arms,
But don't blame me.
(interlude)
Blame all your charms
That melt in my arms,
But don't blame me.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Hath Despised The Day Of Small Things?
As violets so be I recluse and sweet,
Cheerful as daisies unaccounted rare,
Still sunward-gazing from a lowly seat,
Still sweetening wintry air.
While half-awakened Spring lags incomplete,
While lofty forest trees tower bleak and bare,
Daisies and violets own remotest heat
And bloom and make them fair.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Hope...?
Hope...
Hope is to wait
Waiting for anything to make the day
Waiting for sunrise or night
Waiting for the tears to dry
Waiting for that telephone call
Waiting for the path to end
Waiting for the struggles to past
Hope...
Hope is to keep on dreaming
Dreaming of prince charming
Dreaming of the perfect life
Dreaming of Utopia
Dreaming of chance to escape
Hope...
Hope is determination
Determined to reach the goal
Determined to make the dreams come true
Determined to prove everybody wrong
Determined to push away the nos and answer with a yes
Determined to reach that 100%
But that is what i only believe
What do you see in Hope....
poem by Guinevere Eveleigh
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Double Red Daisies
Double red daisies, they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes—but no,
I root them up because they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
Double red daisy, that’s my mark:
I paint it in all my books!
It’s carved high up on the beech-tree bark,
How neat and lovely it looks!
So don’t forget that it’s my trade mark;
Don’t copy it in your books.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
poem by Robert Graves
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Dripping Sentiment and Scent Wrenched Daisies Sent
Dripping sentiment,
And scent wrenched daisies sent.
A bouquet just to say,
My feelings haven't changed.
And hoping when they arrive...
They are not turrned away!
Admitting guilt is difficult.
When truth is obvious,
And should not be questioned.
But certain situations,
Call for more than just an apology.
And begging on one knee...
Is accompanied,
By a pint of blood...
One bleeds!
IF one is thought to be unfaithful,
BUT not!
Dripping sentiment,
And scent wrenched daisies sent.
A bouquet just to say,
My feelings haven't changed.
And hoping when they arrive...
They are not turrned away!
These days...
The more creative,
The better the outcome!
Especially when something done...
Is discovered to be thoughtlessly dumb!
And ignoring what has taken place...
Is not recommended,
IF one wishes to recognize the face...
Of one who has been angered!
And I have seen the fangs produce foam before.
That is why I've sent the daisies at the door.
Hoping she will not snap off my head...
Because of something foolish I said!
This morning when I left our bed...
Without a kiss goodbye,
But slip and said...
Her looks made me cry!
BUT 'that' was not what I meant!
And I rushed to leave...
To abort an argument!
I HOPE she receives the daisies I sent...
Before I arrive at home!
Please Father...
'Anything'
Besides the fangs,
And foam!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gentle Winds
Green fields edged with hedgerows,
Wild flowers enticing the bees,
Yellow buttercups and daisies,
Undulate in the evening breeze.
Small shrubs and dark dense thickets,
Trees so tall, with branches stout,
Even they can move with alacrity,
When the air currents are about.
These gentle winds are refreshing,
And stir all nature's wondrous art,
They cool the heat of the evening,
And calm the beat of the heart.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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THEY CAN'T WIN Apr 30th,2011
Those who don’t vote, think that nothing can change and they may be right,
Without plebiscites or propositions trying to be polite,
No binding referendums or proportional representation,
So why bother to be involved or vote or make a donation?
They are not allowed to vote for their prime minister by name,
Can’t have political recall and no matter what, so they can’t blame,
There are no set-date elections so no one knows the date for sure,
And the name on the ballot they can vote for, is extremely obscure.
Can’t vote for an appointed senator or Supreme Court judge,
Can’t even have these thoughts because nothing is allowed to budge,
Can’t have death with dignity because that would be a sin,
So why bother to vote because Canadians may not win?
poem by James Bredin
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The Fury of Flowers and Worms
Let the flowers make a journey
on Monday so that I can see
ten daisies in a blue vase
with perhaps one red ant
crawling to the gold center.
A bit of the field on my table,
close to the worms
who struggle blinding,
moving deep into their slime,
moving deep into God's abdomen,
moving like oil through water,
sliding through the good brown.
The daisies grow wild
like popcorn.
They are God's promise to the field.
How happy I am, daisies, to love you.
How happy you are to be loved
and found magical, like a secret
from the sluggish field.
If all the world picked daisies
wars would end, the common cold would stop,
unemployment would end, the monetary market
would hold steady and no money would float.
Listen world.
if you'd just take the time to pick
the white flowers, the penny heart,
all would be well.
They are so unexpected.
They are as good as salt.
If someone had brought them
to van Gogh's room daily
his ear would have stayed on.
I would like to think that no one would die anymore
if we all believed in daisies
but the worms know better, don't they?
They slide into the ear of a corpse
and listen to his great sigh.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Too Young For Love
Too young for love?
Ah, say not so!
Tell reddening rose-buds not to blow
Wait not for spring to pass away,--
Love's summer months begin with May!
Too young for love?
Ah, say not so!
Too young? Too young?
Ah, no! no! no!
Too young for love?
Ah, say not so,
To practise all love learned in May.
June soon will come with lengthened day
While daisies bloom and tulips glow!
Too young for love?
Ah, say not so!
Too young? Too young?
Ah, no! no! no!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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