Love Is Sacred
It is divine gift
Of god
As pure as the
Heart of a new born
Dew on the leaves
Snow on the high
Mountains
Nectar of a flower
Honey of a bee
It's Purity immortal
Fragrance indelible
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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The Dracula Flower
The flower was stretching
It's hand to find a honey-bee
To be embraced and kissed!
The flower remained
In meditation to invoke God
To sent her groom
As she bore the nectar
To be sucked and emptied
By the trunk of a honey-bee
The long hairy hands
Of the flower frightened
The butterflies move wantonly
The caterpillars jumping
In quest to quench the thirst!
As the flower in penance
Heard the humming
Of a honey-bee unseen
She opened her eyes
In search to up and sides
And she was enthused
To see the blue-black
Groom of her from heaven
With wings shivering
As if in a whirl wind
Moving to her lips
To kiss and empty her!
The flower leaped her hand
To embrace the honey-bee
Whose nail ladden legs
Did wand her hands
Yet she never let loose
Her embrace to get-him close
To her breast stored with honey.
The honey-bee sucking nectar
From the lips of the flower
Never see him trapped
In the tangle of figments.
He struggled and jerked
But the flower sucked
The honey-bee's life
In return to her nectar he sucked
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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The Fragrance Of Virtue Rises To The Heavens
The blissful flower landed on the earthly dirt
And rooted its seeds on the bosom of mankind.
The flower blooms only in fruitful pure heart
Which grazes its petals like one hungry hind.
Virtues are the atoms of God, the holiest one.
The more we attain it, the more we appear near
To Him, His being, Virtues and godliness anon
As our soul drenches with immortal holy tear.
The earthy flower blooms, dies in perched air
With a fragrance that melts, melts, melts away.
But the fragrant flower of Virtue is always fair,
Its fragrance rises towards heavenly stairway.
poem by Osman Gani
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Sonnet: A Poet’s Dream
I dreamt I turn’d into a rose flower,
That’d fully blossomed, looking so lovely!
Because I wished to be a bee-lover,
One morn as dawn came on very stealth’ly.
I was a rose, red-petaled and much pretty,
Emitting fragrance really very sweet!
My lover-bee buzz’d on to me happily,
Hovering around, with his rhythmic wing-beat.
“Good morning sweetheart! ” it said and kissed me.
“I’ve flown for miles, seeking your divine face, ”
“O spare me some nectar for I’m thirsty,
And some more nectar for my kids, in case.”
“O bee-lover! All my nectar’s for thee;
Only promise to always visit me! ”
poem by John Celes
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Nectar turns honey
Nectar in the flower turns honey
Through the mouth of bees.
Truth is like nectar.
We get it as honey from the mouth [of people]
12.04.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rainbows and Dreams...
Like a flower that has no petals and its
Demure timidity became a song in its heart;
Those rhythms in the heart beats are the music
Of my life; my tranquil music…
Passions seeking salvation embraced beauty,
Flowing through rivulets of eloquent silence
Of imagination, and hallucinations.
Let the hues start painting that portrait
Of this flower that embezzle my heart.
Rainbows leaning on the earth and spanning
Over the firmament, caressing in adoration
The sky, eternally blue and placid in its nature,
Clasping the chillness of the snow-clad
Mountains of the earth,
Gifted and bestowed dreams on me
And the entire fragrance, of that flower.
The flower that has stolen my heart…
poem by Kunjubi Varghese
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R..o..s..e
Remember when I would offer you a rose,
you would consider it as the precious gift of love,
When you would smell the rose and fondly smile,
I would be intoxicated with the sweet fragrance of your love.
On those dreary winter days when you would be away,
my heart would be lonely with the misery of separation,
I would feel the like rose bushes stranded in snow,
where all the leaves were parting one by one.
Somewhere in the tenderness and softness of the rose petals,
lies my delicate and innocent love,
sometimes the thorns pick and hurt,
sometime love is full of fear, sometimes it hurts.
Everlasting beauty of the rose remains in my heart,
even when the rose blossoms, fades and withers,
My love is immortal like rose,
which never dies in the heart as I love you so much.
poem by Jay P Narain
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Into it all the same.
At a distance, a flower is noted by its colour.
Once into it, the purpose of the colour is over.
Only the nectar of the flower matters.
Pleasure is drawn in churning to honey the nectar.
A wise man makes variety from his clay
rather than buying varying makes.
23.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Learning from the honey bee
Look at the bees
And learn something
They yearn for others
as busy bees
Together in swarms they fly along
To find gardens together they throng
From flower to flower
From nectar to nectar
Serving their queen bee with compassion
Caring for their young ones in devotion
They toil and toil
From flower to seed
To gather honey honey so sweet
Just to serve just to yearn
A tiny insect makes us learn
Its God Command to serve and earn
Give good to others
And get so in return
Be like the bees to find the truth
Of being happy and to find God's love
Be like a bee and be like the bees
Being for others and nothing above
poem by Rehanayakoob Yakoob
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Ever Pure Is Love!
Love is that great feeling,
no one can deny,
to love is thrilling,
to be loved is more pleasing,
living with heart ever loving,
only wisdom of self remain ever shining!
Every love is felt mortal in company of desires,
Just as immortal self felt mortal,
In company of mortal things,
river that flood during rain,
and drain in summer,
Surely dry some day,
But the river that keeps on flowing full,
Ever pure has origin in melting snow of icy mountains,
Love having origin in heart where snow heap of pure Love melts,
Never can dry,
Never be impure,
Unless polluted by human desires, selfish motives!
When body felt light,
filling more energy in wings,
wisdom gained by experience,
courage in heart make faith
strong,
Look for the Truth alone,
one can soar high, see deep into space to see the
Sun never sets,
the ever flowing river of life as
whole
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Snow
when the snow is just starting to fall,
the people are happy to play all day,
the views are different and days are short,
the nights are long,
the snow at day is white and pure,
the night time snow glistens with colour,
like dancing fairies having fun,
the snow that falls,
the boredom sets in,
when the snow goes the spring is due,
the first born lamds,
the leaves on the brown bark,
of the old tall trees
poem by Sharron Stephenson
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Vanilla Gate
Come sweet Red Flower and enter my life
through the vanilla gate of fate.
Hold my hand Red Flower and walk with me
in green fields of grass and tranquillity.
Let us climb together snow-capped mountains
in a fiery sunrise of passion.
Let me kiss your graceful mouth when the wind rustles
among the leaves of apricot blossoms.
Let my lips wander onto hidden places amid orange trees
and citrus fragrance praised by bird songs.
Magic rainbows adorn the night sky
diamond stars strew strawberry sparks on our embrace.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Italian Myrtles
By many a soft Ligurian bay
The myrtles glisten green and bright,
Gleam with their flowers of snow by day,
And glow with fire-flies through the night,
And yet, despite the cold and heat,
Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
There is an island in the West,
Where living myrtles bloom and blow,
Hearts where the fire-fly Love my rest
Within a paradise of snow-
Which yet, despite the cold and heat,
Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
Deep in that gentle breast of thine-
Like fire and snow within the pearl-
Let purity and love combine,
O warm, pure-hearted Irish girl!
And in the cold and in the heat
Be ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
Thy bosom bears as pure a snow
As e'er Italia's bowers can boast,
And though no fire-fly lends its glow-
As on the soft Ligurian coast-
'Tis warmed by an internal heat
Which ever keeps it pure and sweet.
The fire-flies fade on misty eves-
The inner fires alone endure;
Like rain that wets the leaves,
Thy very sorrows keep thee pure-
They temper a too ardent heat-
And keep thee ever pure and sweet.
poem by Denis Florence MacCarthy
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Snow Flakes
as i look out of my window i see snow flakes
blowing all around landing gently on the ground.
the falling flakes set my heart all aglow.
as it makes a blanket of pure white snow.
creating such a beautiful sight.
the snow just like a heart can be gentle to the touch
yet! cold as ice.
if you plan on playing with it you better think twice.
the heart is the most complex part of the human body
it controls the entire anatomy.
so as the snow trickles down and creates a picture of purity.
and its coldness touches my bones
in my heart grows the warmth of a fire
with all of its desire.
to melt the coldness in your heart
just so you could see.
even the coldest of hearts can belong to me.
but when you want true beauty look up to the sky.
it is not the snow flakes coming down
but the love of god which is all around.
poem by Louis Rams
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Love and Fragrance
The fragrance of a flower
Like the fragrance of a woman
Is a declaration of fertility
The poetry of seduction
When you hold a flower
When you touch your lover
Traces of the fragrance stay with you
They're ingrained in your skin
Much like the single red rose
Standing alone, erect
Aflame with desire
My passion is only for you
And like a delicate flower
Our love is fueled by a fragrance
A fragrance that is uniquely yours
A scent that demands my attention
But in the end
Without love
Without passion
There would be no fragrance
~Rick Berry
poem by Rick Berry
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Miracle
Sweet honey bees
caress each flower.
Bring to them
your attentive power.
Each beautiful flower
accept the honey bee.
as it buzzes in springtime's
gift to thee.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Snowlight
Snow
spirit of water
remove the dust
purify a wilderness
brighten all the world
with a white light
Snow-white Clouds
leaning close to the refreshing breeze
embraced by the blue sky
pursuing the wings of light, flying high
whence the profoundity of the Universe
immortal legends told through the years
A ripe fruit
from a vernal flower
left behind on the tree
confronting a wintry chill
wearing a hat of white snow
insulated from the freeze
seasonal energy accumulated within
a dormant seed in the dark
the persistence of a new-born
poem by Jasmine Zhang
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Flower of Delight
Enter my flower
love becomes an open door
into my hearts way
Once again I come
drinking in your sweet nectar
flower of delight
Color my dreams blue
enter my lovely flower
in the morning dew.
I melt in nectar
of this beautiful flower
she overwhelmes me.
poem by Heather Burns
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A Footprint, A Face...
do not mountains,
trees, and rivers live
their time, and die?
does not the sun
rise in the morning
only to lay down at night?
are not universes born of dust,
only to return to dust?
why should we be any different?
all that lives but a fleeting glimpse
into the workings of eternity.
yet everything that comes and goes
leaves an indelible mark,
a footprint on the water,
a face put to the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Purity
Purity grows from the heart, of the heart,
Just like the heart it bleeds from pain,
And it is succinct in its appearance,
Lots of love are made from it,
Open fire is tossed onto those in hatred
Of the pure ones, the peaceful presidents
That change their age throughout life,
Who order the children, gaze at no sin,
Fire a person from profession.
Purity is an order from the faithful,
And my heart reaches out for them
For they are pure.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Aspiration. Sonnet
THE planted seed consigned to common earth,
Disdains to moulder with the baser clay;
But rises up to meet the light of day,
Spreads all its leaves, and flowers, and tendrils forth;
And, bathed and ripened in the genial ray,
Pours out its perfume on the wandering gales,
Till in that fragrant breath its life exhales.
So this immortal germ within my breast
Would strive to pierce the dull, dark clod of sense,
With aspirations wingéd and intense;
Would so stretch upward, in its tireless quest,
To meet the Central Soul, its source, its rest;
So in the fragrance of the immortal flower,
High thoughts and noble deeds, its life it would outpour.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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