The Tulip And The Passer By
In a flower pot of love lives a beautiful tulip plant,
And then was the passer by with words to attract it;
For, it was just like a passing glance and the sense of love,
And they were both attracted to each other.
The tulip was so beautiful to be touched,
And so nice to smell its aroma;
For its aroma fumes the iar around it.
The passer by was attracted to it like a magnent and,
He was touched by the fragrance of this tulip;
And love was the key for him to touch this tulip.
Of the passer by and the tulip,
Of the sense of humour to attract both of them;
But it was just a passing glance for the passer by,
And true love did crown the day for both of them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Valentine's flowers
Written by Tulip
Valentine is too far away for me
For so many flowers just weep
Be merchandised they don't need
And they want nothing but being free
I want to say in my heart I love you
But I can't hurt flowers' soul
So their ever growing rich I hope
Become more beautiful for both
Written by Tulip in Suzhou
on Valentine's Day
14/02/2012
情人节【花语】
原创 Tulip
情人节离我相距遥遥
有多少花儿泪如水漂
世俗化商品她们 不求
只想要还原重现自由
我想说我深深的爱您
但我无意伤 害花之魂
但愿花肥久盛春常艳
为你和我好事促成双
原创 Tulip 写于苏州
2012年2月14日情人节
poem by Julio Tulipan
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Flowers for You
The future is a lot like choosing a flower to send.
If I've used this analogy before, I will make amend.
What type of flower should I send to you my dear?
Rose, Daisy, Tulip, a combination, it is still not clear.
The flower of choice for her is the Tulip you see.
The red Tulip means a declaration of love on bended knee.
Generally speaking, Tulips mean the perfect lover.
Oh no, by sending them to you, I've blown my cover.
Take care of your Tulips with love and compassion.
Their beauty will remind you of one who has passion.
Allow my water to quench your flower's thirst.
Fill your heart with my love until it should burst.
poem by Manager Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is all mixed up
A blue minifan
Turned on
Blowing miniwinds
To a
Red tulip
Made of
Chinese cloth
Let me turn it off
It is not good
To see
Life putting
Breath to
Something
Dead
Life to
Something
Fake, artificial
A tulip flower cloth
A plastic tulip
Too dusty, inanimate.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Marble Tulip Juicy Tree
[studio version appears on "god ween satan: the oneness"]
Great...it would be the greatest thing
I don't know you you are, i don't know who you want to be
When i carbonate the test tube, then you won't see me
I've got a twin cab diesel combo, it takes me where i want to go
And all the nuphies are happy, they know of a fungus that grow
So when you see hoecke's mind screw don't come running to me
'cause i will scream and set aflame marble tulip juicy tree
Marble tulip juicy tree -- it's where i want to be
When i gnaw on the tulip it'll wish that it was me
Every morning i put my shoes on and i think about she
Who controls the four seasons inhaling kitties in the see
It's like a noodle in a salad -- little birdy wants to be set free-ee
I drill the corpse lobe with my mommy -- marble tulip juicy tree
So this song's about the loving thing that you are to me
Just stay away from my adenoids and marble tulip juicy tree
Marble tulip juicy tree -- it's where i want to be
When i gnaw on the tulip it'll wish that it was me
Look now i hold the world in my hands
Whoo, seems like awakened trance
Up on the hill, down by the river
By the ocean across the field
By the word of the boognish
I said, "lordy, lord, lord, i'm comin' home"
In a dream, said he was coming
Boognish was risin'
Up from the mist.......
[more inaudible ranting]
Whoo!
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The tulip is, among flowers, what the peacock is among birds. A tulip lacks scent, a peacock has an unpleasant voice. The one takes pride in its garb, the other in its tail.
Three Unique Flowers!
Due to flowers world itself is called as flower world!
Of them lotus, rose and tulip are world renowned ones
Nobody can deny their significance anywhere anytime!
Danish renowned tulip flowers cheer all by unique beauty!
Tulip flowers of many colours have made mark in literature;
Everybody cherishes their beauty unique in Nature all time.
Rose flower, the thorny beauty of all is the queen of flowers
Everybody has an high esteem and value for rose everywhere!
It is the chosen flower uniquely cherished as a symbol of love.
Lotus flower with yellow seeds in is cherished as divine one!
It is highly esteemed as a spiritual flower for meditation most;
Spiritually valued high lotus flower has mystical significance.
If tulips are angels rose is the queen of love poets cherish
Meant to worship mystically elevating divine lotus ever fresh!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Nightfall in Dordrecht
The mill goes toiling slowly around
With steady and solemn creak,
And my little one hears in the kindly sound
The voice of the old mill speak.
While round and round those big white wings
Grimly and ghostlike creep,
My little one hears that the old mill sings
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”
The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,
And, over his pot of beer,
The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn,
Lustily maketh cheer.
He mocks at the winds that caper along
From the far-off clamorous deep,—
But we—we love their lullaby song
Of “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”
Old dog Fritz in slumber sound
Groans of the stony mart:
To-morrow how proudly he ’ll trot you round,
Hitched to our new milk-cart!
And you shall help me blanket the kine
And fold the gentle sheep,
And set the herring a-soak in brine,—
But now, little tulip, sleep!
A Dream-One comes to button the eyes
That wearily droop and blink,
While the old mill buffets the frowning skies
And scolds at the stars that wink;
Over your face the misty wings
Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep,
And rocking your cradle she softly sings
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”
poem by Eugene Field
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The Gator That Ate It's Tree Frog.
....................A Rain Forrest Tree Frog
.................................plays Peek aboo with
........................................an Allegator down in the
........................................
. ....................................Florida Everglades, right
.............................behind a mutated Tulip...
Just don't ask me
to explain this
Rare but strange>>>>>>>>>
Happinstance.>>>>>>>>
I still don't know what>>>
A Tree Frog is doing
in the florida Ever Glades.
or how a Tulip
sprouted too.
Don't be
dumb
said
the
fly.
Do you wish
to know.
Where will
yee go,
you
know?
poem by Michael Gale
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The Mauve Basket
Purple like a tulip in a spring field. Swaying calmly with the wind, under a violet sky, beckoning you to come closer, and closer. A Mauve Basket coming closer and closer.
Then a hand picks the plum flower, covering the tulip with warmth, and whispering it's secrets to it.
The flower looks back at it's past home, a wild violet field, waiting to get placed in the purple pocket, but instead finds a new home, in the Mauve Basket.
poem by Vindya Pon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunset in garden
Tulip shimmers in orange glow
Touched by golden blush
haiku by Dorothy Holmes (30 April 2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indiscretion
RED tulip-buds last night caressed
The sacred ivory of her breast.
She met me, eager to divine
What gold-heart bud of hope was mine.
Nor eyes nor lips were strong to part
The close-curled petals round my heart;
The joy I knew no monarch knows,
Yet not a petal would unclose.
But, ah!--the tulip-buds, unwise,
Warmed with the sunshine of her eyes,
And by her soft breath glorified
Went mad with love and opened wide.
She saw their hearts, all golden-gay,
Laughed, frowned, and flung the flowers away.
Poor flowers, in Heaven as you were,
Why did you show your hearts to her?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Saddest Photographs I: Library Picture
I can picture you
In the quietude of the library
Sauntering past the hulking shelves
With the grace and levity of a gypsy
And vague in the opalescent visage
Though you are scarcely touched
By the cascading fluorescent lights
Snooping through the grave of books
That conceals the picturesque vision
Of the dexterous infection of a smile
Whilst your nimble hands graze
The sleeping books on the case
And stir the stationary dusts
Into rippling mystical shards
Until you make your choice
And haul out your book supplely
Like picking up a wild tulip
Whilst I muse upon the scene
Inside a forlorn alley ensconced
In a book left ajar in my palms
Similar to the tulip that you hold
Near the realms of your crystal heart.
poem by Norman Santos
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Die a Log Dialogue
'While wine still trickles fickle Death
must sheath sharp sickle, pause for breath
which hope for scope empowereth.'
To phantom sigh said passer by.
'The spine that shivers sets the score
for mind beyond the shadows led,
what's lust to who may prey no more? '
To passer by ghost of reply.
'Tears, fears, arrears are paid in Time
as Trust plays out Life's p[h]antomime
awaiting Paradise sublime.'
To phantom sigh said passer by.
'Death knows no fears, they're faced before,
some trembling mirage sins restore.
Tears are drowned out by sonic roar.'
To passer by said phantom sigh.
'No favours asked, no quavers given,
by backward glance no joys are driven,
but sins forgotten, sins forgiven.'
To phantom, 'Why? ' said passer by.
'Temptation taps a semaphore
of semi quavers sped instead
of scene thats seen, Mort or Amor.'
To passer by said phantom sigh.
'All things Love conquers, victory
of life sublime, eternity
is hyphen syphon, surface sea,
which all must sail' said passer by.
'Upon Time's [s]wings, that base bass whore
all face is surface phantom sped,
desire inspires, masks empty core.'
To passer by said Phantom sigh.
'Farewell! my welfare lies elsewhere,
and yet lies not, believes in fair
winds which Time's leaves for Life prepare'
To phantom sigh said passer by.
'Your's is not pitch or toss to call,
for finger beckon none forestall,
must dropp what seems their wherewithal
to answer summons.' Phantom said.
'That may seem so in this dimension
yet other dreams may add extension,
prorogue fell sentence, toxin mention.'
To phantom, 'bye! ' said passer's sigh.
'Betimes by night c[l]ause rhymes with c[l]aw,
bell tolls the tocsin dark and dread,
worms bore, fire burns. In store no awe.
Life's reasons seize on.' Phantom said.
'To others, therefore, say adieu,
before sun dries dawn's sparkling dew
as I am now so shall you, too,
lie, as a phantom, stark abed.'
(30 November 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Pantoum - What Flower Do I Want To Be?
What flower do i want to be?
I ask myself in garden of the world,
In front of it i humble contemplate,
Amazed by beautiness that lies in it.
I ask myself in garden of the world,
A rose with seductive suave fragrance i feel,
Amazed by beautiness that lies in it,
So romantic feelings the velvet rose petals awakes in me.
A rose with seductive suave fragrance i feel,
Or a chrysanthemum with charismatic perfume,
So romantic feelings the velvet rose petals awakes in me,
Such amazing pearl of autumn is the elegant chrysanthemum.
Or a chrysanthemum with charismatic perfume,
Or a tulip with perfect shapes and smooth lines,
Such amazing pearl of autumn is the elegant chrysanthemum,
Such a worthy tulip rising up like a pray towards the sun.
Or a tulip with perfect shapes and smooth lines,
Or another flowers with delicate design,
Such a worthy tulip rising up like a pray towards the sun,
So amazing flowers lies in front of me.
Or another flowers with delicate design,
Garden of the world is infinite,
Such amazing flowers lie in front of me,
From all of these beauties i wonder.
Garden of the world is infinite,
In front of it i humble contemplate,
From all of these beauties i wonder,
What flower do i want to be?
poem by Cristina Teodor
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The Toadstool
THERE 's a thing that grows by the fainting flower,
And springs in the shade of the lady's bower;
The lily shrinks, and the rose turns pale,
When they feel its breath in the summer gale,
And the tulip curls its leaves in pride,
And the blue-eyed violet starts aside;
But the lily may flaunt, and the tulip stare,
For what does the honest toadstool care?
She does not glow in a painted vest,
And she never blooms on the maiden's breast;
But she comes, as the saintly sisters do,
In a modest suit of a Quaker hue.
And, when the stars in the evening skies
Are weeping dew from their gentle eyes,
The toad comes out from his hermit cell,
The tale of his faithful love to tell.
Oh, there is light in her lover's glance,
That flies to her heart like a silver lance;
His breeches are made of spotted skin,
His jacket 'is tight, and his pumps are thin;
In a cloudless night you may hear his song,
As its pensive melody floats along,
And, if you will look by the moonlight fair,
The trembling form of the toad is there.
And he twines his arms round her slender stem,
In the shade of her velvet diadem;
But she turns away in her maiden shame,
And will not breathe on the kindling flame;
He sings at her feet through the live-long night,
And creeps to his cave at the break of light;
And whenever he comes to the air above,
His throat is swelling with baffled love.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Flower and Bird
Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!
poem by Supriya Mothay
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You walk, and look like me
You walk, and look like me,
Your eyes directed down.
I also used to lower mine!
Hey you, passer by, stop!
Read-when you've gathered
A bouquet of buttercups and poppies,
That I was called Marina
And how old I was.
Don't think that this is a grave,
That I will appear,scary...
I myself loved too much
To laugh, when I shouldn't have!
And the blood would come to my face
And my hair was curly...
You passer by, I also was!
You passer by, stop!
Break yourself off a wild stem
And after it a berry,-
No wild strawberry is larger or sweeter
Than one from a graveyard.
Only don't stand gloomily,
Dropping your head on your chest,
Think about me easily,
As easily then forget!
How the sun's ray shines upon you!
You're all covered in golden dust...
-Don't let it disturb you,
My voice from underground.
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Much Like Me
Much like me, you make your way forward,
Walking with downturned eyes.
Well, I too kept mine lowered.
Passer-by, stop here, please.
Read, when you've picked your nosegay
Of henbane and poppy flowers,
That I was once called Marina,
And discover how old I was.
Don't think that there's any grave here,
Or that I'll come and throw you out ...
I myself was too much given
To laughing when one ought not.
The blood hurtled to my complexion,
My curls wound in flourishes ...
I was, passer-by, I existed!
Passer-by, stop here, please.
And take, pluck a stem of wildness,
The fruit that comes with its fall --
It's true that graveyard strawberries
Are the biggest and sweetest of all.
All I care is that you don't stand there,
Dolefully hanging your head.
Easily about me remember,
Easily about me forget.
How rays of pure light suffuse you!
A golden dust wraps you round ...
And don't let it confuse you,
My voice from under the ground.
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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L'amour faite passer les temps. Les temps faite passer l'amour. (Love makes time pass. Time makes love pass.)
French Sundial Motto proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Tulip (your one perfect love)
There`s a flower that grows
Out of a story in a distant country
Becoming from a suicide done in love
A prince and his maiden`s murder
He took his horse with him
And jumped of the cliff
Scarlet drops flew onto the earth
Hitting one by one
Sprouting from its place
Came this one unique flower
As red as human`s wine
A Tulip gifted meaning much
Given to the soul mates
Your one perfect love
This is the flower that grows
Out of a story in a distant country
poem by Relle Samuel
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