Purity in white
Satin petal drapery
Lilies grace my sight.
haiku by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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River Lilies
Saw a boy three lilies white,
Lilies in the river,
Half heart-open to the light,
Full of golden arrows bright,
Each a silver quiver.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Said the boy, “I’ll pluck you there,
Lilies in the river!”
Said the lilies, “If you dare
You shall drown, or homeward fare
Dripping and a-shiver!”
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Wilful still the boy would clasp
Lilies in the river;
Tumbled in ere he could grasp,
Scrambled out with puff and gasp,
Plucked no lilies ever.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Sonnet Of Motherhood X
I walked among the flowers that bend their heads
Low to the earth and back again to light,
Hearing them prattle of their blue and white—
Violet and jasmine in the bordered beds.
They whispered them of every wing that weds
388ഊFragrance to fragrance in the dusky night;
And, seeing them, I knew another sight,
And saw them bowing where all Beauty spreads.
I touched each petal with the sunbeams flaked—
Roses and pansies of the early morn,
Lilies that lilted of the moon’s light grace,
And left them hushed when all my joy was slaked;
For in the garden of my soul, God-born,
Each flower made beauty for my child’s soft face.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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The Petal Game
pick a flower
to play the petal game
pluck a petal
he loves me
pluck a petal
I don't love him
pluck a petal
he keeps getting closer
pluck a petal
I keep pushing him away
pluck a petal
he is always around me
pluck a petal
I hide away from him
pluck a petal
he is always protecting me
pluck a petal
I just punch him in the gut
pluck a petal
he never seems to get it
pluck a petal
I really hate his guts
pluck a petal
he just really bugs me
pluck a petal
I need a new flower now
pick a flower
to play the petal game
poem by Amber Lyn Charneski
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White Rose
I beheld your face and saw my white rose embrace her last breath in death. The betrayal I'd shown, the deceit of it cried and the plight of my innocent bride now in her coffin lies. I pierced the heart of her love when I tried another for a sex ride and lied and now I can't hide. In her note it said with another I'll not share my bed I'd rather be dead. Her funeral today the white rose petal tips did settle a pillow for her head. The tears I weep will forever seep for the bride I was to wed. I justified, cheated, rationalized and minimized the depth of her love, chided and betrayed a love that had much better roots than I. Forever from this selfish sickness die inside where pride and lust lie. By the grace of God release the guilt inside in faith I hope to say to my white rose again someday forgiveness is the way and White rose of purity I pray in your hands she does lay.
poem by Vanita Allgood
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You want a lily
You want a lily
And you plead with me
'Give me my lily back.'
I went to see
A friend last night and on her mantelshelf
I saw some lilies,
Image of myself,
And most unlike your dream of purity.
They had been small green lilies, never white
For man's delight
In their most blissful hours.
But now the flowers
Had shrivelled and instead
Shone spikes of seeds,
Burned spikes of seeds,
Burned red
As love and death and fierce futurity.
There's this much of the lily left in me.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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The White Lily
By the river bank
The frogs croak and caress
Hoping along the river bank
From here to there
At a distant
The swallows twitter with fondness
The lilies rupture with the morning sun
The water reeds sway
As the wind blows along
The river bank
But yet....i feel lost
In this scenery of dexteric desires
I feel caught in lifes pedestals
Tender steps i make....
Along the river bank...
Lilies..
The white lily...
That symbolise
The purity of those souls
Enmeshed in lovesframe
The white lily
That symbolise
The fire that burns within circles
The white lily that symbolises
Long lost desires
Re-invented and rejuvenated
In this river of dexteric desires
The white lily
So white...so pure...
By the river bank
I watch the white lily float and dance
Along the river waters
Their is tenderness in the river
The fishes swim with tenderness
The waters flowing
With a lovers moan
Rythmic drums can be heard from afar
Magic everywhere
I sit and stare at the white lily
With a longing yen....
By the river bank.
poem by Jack Shaka
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I pay—in Satin Cash
402
I pay—in Satin Cash—
You did not state—your price—
A Petal, for a Paragraph
It near as I can guess—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Duet with a Peony
A dark red peony
Darker red than
The crown of a rooster
Swollen with pride
Stood on the grand piano
The petals fall
On the black and white ivories
I hear a quiet pianissimo tone
A haunting sense of emptiness
Soft and mysterious
Constant change of mood
The last piece of satin red petal
With hint of jazz
Morph into a smooth abscission
Like a saxophonist flirting the soft piano
I close my eyes
Red petals bursting up the piano keys
Like fireworks, a fleeting dream
Dazzling array of pianistic explosions
And me, duet with a dark red peony
The Lily and the Bee
I Looked upon the lilies
When the morning sun was low,
And the sun shone through a lily
With a softened honey glow.
A spot was in the lily
That moved incessantly,
And when I looked into the cup
I saw a morning bee.
“Consider the lilies!”
But, it occurs to me,
Does any one consider
The lily and the bee?
The lily stands for beauty,
Use, purity, and trust,
It does a four-fold duty,
As all good mortals must.
Its whiteness is to teach us,
Its faith to set us free,
Its beauty is to cheer us,
And its wealth is for the bee.
“Consider the lilies!”
But, it occurs to me,
Does any one consider
The lily and the bee?
poem by Henry Lawson
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Her Face And Brow
Ah, help me! but her face and brow
Are lovelier than lilies are
Beneath the light of moon and star
That smile as they are smiling now--
White lilies in a pallid swoon
Of sweetest white beneath the moon--
White lilies, in a flood of bright
Pure lucidness of liquid light
Cascading down some plenilune,
When all the azure overhead
Blooms like a dazzling daisy-bed.--
So luminous her face and brow,
The luster of their glory, shed
In memory, even, blinds me now.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-60
Asiatic lily(Asiatic hybrid lily
Lilium x asiatica)
Deceptive your buds far farther
Like water lily as they look
In closer sight but true lilies
Divine really anywhere nearer
Ofcourse fragrant little mild
Some scentless albeit colourful
Leaves strappy on stems upright
Blossoms big and small and hybrid
Hybridized just to feast the eyes
Nay, the soul red, purple and white
Pink of blossoms bigger Oriental
In closer sight divine all lilies
Hybridized colourful to look better
Nay, sweeter gold, orange and white
Pink of blossoms smaller Asiatic
Divine naturally really so closer
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Lake And Its Magic Grace
I open my eyes this morning,
In front of me a marvelous landscape open up,
I am so amazed and happy,
And so astonished i become and contemplate.
A lake enriched with white water lilies,
Is developing to my eyes delight,
Its blue peaceful water vibrates,
When a white swan is touching it with grace.
Sun is rising up and warm this greatness,
When its beams are caressing the lake in shinning lights,
All it's coming to life and i can feel the joy,
Of the nature around that makes me smile.
A butterfly is flying to the water lilies,
And stopped for a few moments to enjoy their great perfume,
A fish is jumping restless for a breathe of air,
The birds are happily singing and fly to deep blue sky.
Nature shared with me all its greatness,
And i am humble pleased for what i seen,
I am happy to be the pasionate admirer,
Of this lake and its magic grace.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Kathy's Poem
I remember the times,
deep in my mind of washing,
and cleaning you as a little child,
I walked you down the isle,
in white silk and satin lace,
with me in your arms and much grace,
my younger one I thank you,
for such a lovely embrace.
poem by Walter C. Edwards
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I Never Thought, For One, In My Life
i, once, for one, never
ever thought, that you, who came
later in my life, so ordinary like
a single petal of a white rose,
blown by the wind,
falling on my path, which i pick up,
without, at first, so much interest,
you, that i keep, and set aside,
in one corners of my room,
you spread the sweetest rosy
scent in my room, filling all the
emptiness, that once,
was there, now, i take a closer look,
and kiss you, what miracle is there,
it happens, you are the
best rose, that happened
in my life, my white petal
my wife, my soul mate.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Muriel: at the Opera
Roses and rose-buds, red and white,
Nestled between your breasts to-night,
And, lying there with drowsy breath,
Sweetly resigned themselves to death.
Ah, cruel child! that would not so
Suffer the perfumed life to go,
But, hungering for the rose's heart
Of midmost sweetness, plucked apart
Petal from petal: 'Ah!' you said
(With lips that kissed white roses red)
'To live on love and roses!'
Well,
But if the rose were Muriel?
poem by Arthur Symons
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A Satin Sheet and Pleatings
The satin sheets allowed us to use for sails
the billowy white pillow cases
where on your hair splayed
as if blown there by the wind;
I took my long breath amazed
at the sight
while being the oarsman stroking my oar
sailing your body sleek
and you my propeller moving me
we both breathing
both contributing to the gathering water spout;
where thrashing waves explode beneath;
where crests and troughs
meet
where finally all oxygen is inhaled.
Tremendous expirations
blow-an indoor summer breeze-
until there is beneath us
only the glassy, calm sea
on our satin sheets
pleated and unpleated
marking our love-making there.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Satin Dress
Needle, needle, dip and dart,
Thrusting up and down,
Where's the man could ease a heart
Like a satin gown?
See the stitches curve and crawl
Round the cunning seams-
Patterns thin and sweet and small
As a lady's dreams.
Wantons go in bright brocade;
Brides in organdie;
Gingham's for the plighted maid;
Satin's for the free!
Wool's to line a miser's chest;
Crepe's to calm the old;
Velvet hides an empty breast
Satin's for the bold!
Lawn is for a bishop's yoke;
Linen's for a nun;
Satin is for wiser folk-
Would the dress were done!
Satin glows in candlelight-
Satin's for the proud!
They will say who watch at night,
"What a fine shroud!"
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Satin Doll
This scary face on the wall
His watch kills every minute
With a sherlock holmes hat
And a rope around his neck
cause she said
Satin doll, satin doll
Step by step
Against the wall, against the wall
Step
cause she said
Satin doll, satin doll
Step by step
Promises
Promises
Is what she said
Whos the vampires praying
He strangles me every minute
These purple eyes talk to him
Get me out of this constraint
Satin doll, satin doll
Step by step
Against the wall, against the wall
Step...
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Babies of Walloon
He was lengthsman on the railway, and his station scarce deserved
That “pre-eminence in sorrow” of the Majesty he served,
But as dear to him and precious were the gifts reclaimed so soon—
Were the workman’s little daughters who were buried near Walloon.
Speak their names in tones that linger, just as though you held them dear;
There are eyes to which the mention of those names will bring a tear.
Little Kate and Bridget, straying in an autumn afternoon,
Were attracted by the lilies in the water of Walloon.
All is dark to us. The angels sing perhaps in Paradise
Of the younger sister’s danger, and the elder’s sacrifice;
But the facts were hidden from us, when the soft light from the moon
Glistened on the water-lilies o’er the Babies at Walloon.
Ah! the children love the lilies, while we elders are inclined
To the flowers that have poison for the body and the mind.
Better for the “strongly human” to have done with life as soon,
Better perish for a lily like the Babies of Walloon.
For they gather flowers early on the river far away,
Where the everlasting lilies keep their purity for aye,
And while summer brings our lilies to the run and the lagoon
May our children keep the legend of the Babies of Walloon.
poem by Henry Lawson
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In White
A dented spider like a snow drop white
On a white Heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of lifeless satin cloth -
Saw ever curious eye so strange a sight? -
Portent in little, assorted death and blight
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth? -
The beady spider, the flower like a froth,
And the moth carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The blue prunella every child's delight.
What brought the kindred spider to that height?
(Make we no thesis of the miller's plight.)
What but design of darkness and of night?
Design, design! Do I use the word aright?
poem by Robert Frost
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