Orc
The fight for normality
It seems she's losing
Gray may the clouding be
She's still an orchid.
The sun may rain red
But she's still an orchid.
The wind may bring the stars
She'd still be
poem by Eon Ezkiel
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Black Orchid
A flake of snow within a storm
A new way waiting to be born
In a world with need of change
A touch of love in fear of hate
A rushing wind thats asked to wait
For the promises of rain
A pearl of wisdom entrapped by poverty
She gives love with purity
Filling minds with hopeful schemes
To build worlds enhanced by peace
Draped in sparkling morning dew
She expresses life anew
From the earth beneath her feet
She is a flower that grows
In love ability
Shes femininity
Black orchid, black orchid
Why did they make you begin
When they know in time youll find your truth
Before your cycle ends
Black orchid, black orchid
Why are you crying their fears
When the true reflection of you that they see
Is love besieged by years
She has touched the farthest star
Her beauty speaks of what we are
And her freedom makes us free
Her now is in eternity
Infinite to all that see
And her dreams have been achieved
Now there is a sound of laughter
Nature signs out her name
For the world to know her fame
Black orchid, black orchid
Why did they criticize
When they knew your love could cast its spell and
Consecrate their eyes
Black orchid, black orchid
Why do you linger in space
When you know in every heart that beats
You hold a special place
When you know in every heart that beats
You hold a special place
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Orchid
You got a reaction
You got a reaction, didn't you?
You took a white orchid
You took a white orchid and turned it blue
Something's better than nothing
Something's better than nothing, it's givin' up!
Gotta make up for something
Try getting the truth from showing up
How dare you?
How old are you now anyway?
How dare you?
How old are you now anyway?
How dare you?
How old are you now anyway?
You are given a flower
But I guess there was just no pleasing you
Your lip tastes sour
But you think that it's me just teasing you
You got a reaction
You got a reaction, didn't you?
You took a white orchid
You took a white orchid and turned it blue
Get behind me!
Get behind me now anyway!
Get behind me!
Get behind me now anyway!
Get behind me!
Get behind me now anyway!
You got a reaction
You got a reaction, didn't you?
You took a white orchid
You took a white orchid and turned it blue
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Our campus
The sun has set and ‘sadness’ fills campus;
Though ’twill arise, it cannot shine as bright;
Rain-bearing clouds have hid it off by curse;
In noon-time, day looks as if it is night!
The rain will fall heavily here-after;
The ground will dampen indeed very fast;
No more can anyone hear good laughter;
The wilder plants will grow like in the past.
The only Orchid growing here is dead!
Dehydrated until the very last;
And many cacti will grow in its bed!
Their thorns reminding of the bitter past.
The Orchid brought the place good name and fame;
The cacti will bring snakes and only shame.
poem by John Celes
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I found an orchid in the valley fair,
I found an orchid in the valley fair,
And named it for us both,
And left it there.
Two flowers upon one stem, white-souled, alone.
I couldn't pull them up,
And bring them home.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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My Purple Orchid
Once the maturity of balmy embrace is in purple
Smile is still too sweet though you have no dimples
Love from you is soul and mind refinement
Hand-touch can be more than beatific achievement
My purple orchid makes me the luckiest girl ever
Twice the royal flower is delicate some time longer
My purple orchid charms me some way meaningfully
Creating love for someone no more logically
Someday later I will find my finest gentleman
Complete with a bouquet of purple orchids in his hand
A rare and magnificent flower preserves true love
A light color purple, happiness I won't get off
poem by Renny Puspa Sari
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Radio Orchid
Theres an old lady living in an old house
Since her husband died she hasnt been out
She lives in her own world with her own little nightmares
And she stopped counting the days
She buys a radio station with her husbands legacy
She does her own show ten hours a day
Plays poems and listens lets feelings run free
Helps people talk the pain away
So if your world falls down
Cant see the light of day
Call the lady call the station today
And listen
This is radio orchid listen and cry
To all the others that suffer and die
This is radio orchid listen and cry
Take your lonely heart and let it fly
Sending her message shes solving the problems
Of millions and millions but who solves hers?
The old lady gets older still lives in the old house
But when she dies well all live alone
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The butterfly
The butterfly is perfuming
It's wings in the scent
Of the orchid.
poem by Matsuo Basho
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The butterfly
perfuming its wings
fans the orchid
haiku by Matsuo Basho, translated by Michael R. Burch
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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memories of Sol
sol, sun, light, brightness, warmth,
parasol, black canopy, above my head
your hands hold
my protection your fingers at the pole's end
sol, cheers, and laughter
and thoughts and greetings of the past
to the uncertainties of the future
sol, sun, light, and then orange and red
and gray and lights out.
it was another declaration
of death, little things you remember
but soon you forget
because the morning with a new sun
as another white orchid blooms by the window
is so beautiful to the pleasure of the eyes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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some of the blue blues
laughing on the orchid leaves
good morning April
haiku by Ashraful Musaddeq from Absent Zero and Other Haiku
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Here I Stand
dancing in the rain
feeling the cold drops on my face
washing all the pain and hurt and sadness away
filling me with a new strength and a new peace
a sense of calm and tranquility among the thunder
washing away the tears of sadness
big drops of rain
falling onto my upturned face
the beauty and strength of the storm
rush through my bones
making me believe
in fate
in love
in myself
making me believe
that one day
the sun will come out
and this will be
nothing
but a
dream.
poem by Ms. Orchid
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A Name!
I am a rose and don't like my pose,
Pictures of mine gross and cross,
I want to change into another to admin:
Single petal or multi petal jasmine,
Mostly white in color, fit to be the cloud,
Float in the sky during happy hours,
Cry like a baby with unfulfilled desire,
So I don't want to be the jasmine.
How is the orchid in the deep jungle?
What a life with only one offspring,
Must wait for that for many months,
Though lots of color with exotic fragrance,
Orchid is also not my choice to hide and disguise.
Sticky sunflower may wait for her Knight the Sun,
Soaking Lotus may sob and smile floating for fun,
Birds of paradise and flame of forest,
Not fragrant hibiscus of various shades,
Lilies are beautiful but have soft stems,
All these are not my choice to hide and disguise,
When in different shroud, would I bloom differently?
When in different stage, would I be too wise?
What cloak do I wear, my in born ignorance,
And the acquired intelligence emerge,
As the rainbow after the slight drizzle,
should I choose a Name for me as a puzzle?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Vicissitude II: Spring
The picador sun retires
And pants gloriously in his throne
His sweat quenched the drought;
Ocher turns to green and yellow
Marauding with the superfluity
Of palettes soused in nubile flowers—
A chateau of jaunty heraldries
And in the subterfuge of its alleys
I trampled in a quaint boudoir;
A loquacious room for a witling orchid
In the labyrinthine contours of the heather
I strife, I stride, I earnestly bristle
The verdure of saccharine spring time
But the pristine panoramic scene
Diverges a tatterdemalion man
Lost in dainty blossoming days
So I sifted through the prairies,
Ran across turfs, knolls, and valleys,
And slumber with a wilting orchid
The maelstrom of iridescent petals
That dabs the flagellating thorns
Oscillates like the sun and moon
With soporific lulls and inebriated
Pangs of melancholia in gnarls
Chagrined by the superfluity
Foreboding the dawn of debauchery
In the bosom of a redolent spring
poem by Norman Santos
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Lillian
I. PROEM.
This was a sweet white wildwood violet
I found among the painted slips that grow
Where, under hot-house glass, the flowers forget
How the sun shines, and how the cool winds blow.
The violet took the orchid's colouring,
Tricked out its dainty fairness like the rest;
Yet still its breath was as the breath of Spring,
And the wood's heart was wild within its breast.
The orchid mostly is the flower I love,
And violets, the mere violets of the wood,
For all their sweetness, have not power to move
The curiosity that rules my blood.
Yet here, in this spice-laden atmosphere,
Where only nature is a thing unreal,
I found in just a violet, planted here,
The artificial flower of my ideal.
II. CHRISTMAS-EVE.
April-hearted Lilian,
April with our love began;
Winter comes, but April violets
Linger on.
So the fancy of an hour,
Born of sudden sun and shower,
Braves the winter, and has blossomed
Into flower.
poem by Arthur Symons
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The Rain Maker
Dull clouds shade the bright stars in the sky
Bring rain to fuel my desire.
Bring rain to feed the masses.
Bring rain to make the world green and lively
Then shoo the clouds away to begin a new day.
Created by the man above
To give life the world below
Supplied by Mother Nature
And Father Earth to provide life
So that man can exist, live, and work for a better future.
Man sows the land and seeds the dirt.
Flowers sprout, bountiful vegetables.
Powerful smells of the future so bright.
Love and nourishment for the masses
Become the Rain Maker.
It is His gift to man.
Rain shrouds the gray sky.
He makes the rain so we can live
To serve Him on the mortal lands.
He is the Rain Maker.
poem by Megan Ayscue
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Autumn Thoughts, Sent Far Away
We share all these disappointments of failing
autumn a thousand miles apart. This is where
autumn wind easily plunders courtyard trees,
but the sorrows of distance never scatter away.
Swallow shadows shake out homeward wings.
Orchid scents thin, drifting from old thickets.
These lovely seasons and fragrant years falling
lonely away— we share such emptiness here.
One of my favorite stories was Black Orchid, because it was so different from all the others. I especially enjoyed dancing the Charleston. I have always been keen on dancing.
quote by Sarah Sutton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Couplets 02 Touchy Composition
Between two cotyledons— plant grows with a bud!
With two lines— couplets come into flower with an idea.
Sometimes, two lines may be more powerful than two hundred lines.
Small verses like couplets are really beautiful.
They speak and touch with peace— as Poems for Life.
Couplet— I
Watering rain on the leaves
Orchid plant mutely sleeps
Couplet— II
Under the pillow raining night
Memory coins may or might!
Couplet— III
All green buds grows yellow
Plant or animal must follow!
Couplet— IV
Shooting stars proclaimed that
No one ever will be mate…
Couplet— V
How the moon came into being
The way fishes sleep and sing
Ashraful Musaddeq
poem by Ashraful Musaddeq
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Who Let In The Rain
Things like this
can always take a little time
I always thought
we'd be together down the line
we start to fight
and can't get over what was said
'cause you see black and white
and I see red
And I wonder who let in the rain
you know without you
I'm not the same
when love gets strong
people get weak
sometimes they lose control
and wind up in too deep
they fall like rain
who let in the rain
I make the bed and cover
where you used to sleep
I'm smoothing over promises
made in these sheets
I envy lovers passing by
out on the street
'cause what they have
I couldn't keep
And I wonder who let in the rain
you know without you
I'm not the same
when love gets strong
people get weak
sometimes they lose control
and wind up in too deep
they fall like rain
who let in the rain.
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Hat Full Of Stars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Do Not Run Away From Gried.....
i do not run away from grief
grief itself is the cure of grief,
did you not know that from the thorns grows
this rose?
from boulders, that nugget of gold?
that from dead trees
the rare orchid blooms?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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