Plural
Do not pluck the flower
left them where they are
beauty in original
watch and enjoy
how life is plural.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Related quotes
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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A Beauty of Love!
I enjoy beauty of star studded night sky;
I enjoy beauty of harmonious waves of sea;
I enjoy beauty of peaceful living of people;
I enjoy beauty of natural poems of poets!
Beauty of human life I enjoy in all forms;
Beauty of fun loving children I enjoy often;
Beauty of smiling flowers I enjoy in garden;
Beauty of art work I enjoy in all forms ever!
World is full of beauty Nature bestows to all;
World is paradise due to love and beauty ever;
World is the abode of man's cultural refinement;
World is the spring board to heaven at the end!
Beauty of love is eternal for all to enjoy in life
Evolving animal into man and man into divine!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Me And Nature
I love to enjoy the wind that
rule the shore of the ocean,
i love to enjoy the wild sun
of Africa and the expatacular
snow of of europe,
i love to enjoy the beauty and
the fragrance of flower that
grace the soil of Africa (Europe,
America) .
I love to enjoy the divine beauty
of the sky at nite when the sun
and the stars proof their worth,
i love to enjoy the rain so when
it pour i dance my way through
it.
I love to enjoy the green grass so
when am within them i feel them
with my hands
i love to enjoy the sweet melodies
of the brids, the sound of the
flute and that of the drum.
I love to enjoy nature..
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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Flower
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it
droop and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of
pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am
aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower
in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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If you would enjoy the fruit, pluck not the flower.
May I Turn You into a Beautiful Flower!
May I turn you into a beautiful flower!
More beautiful than it sounds, in the garden;
No wind shall turn you pale, with its power,
Your beauty covering it, as a shield and hidden.
The roses have a beauty, for them to bow,
And the children pose a charm, for them to pluck.
A flower so pure and gentle to touch, a dove,
And the others, decline to shine and duck.
A flower in the hair of the princess of the castle,
That the jewels in her crown and her heart shall envy.
And as long as my eyes can see, and my heart can beat,
So long shall you shine, as the beauty, as this flower.
©Anees Rahman
poem by Anees Rahman
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Flower Vavroovahana Pa
Flower blossoms naturally;
Beautifies nature silently.
Pervades fragrance in air;
Allures bees with pleasure.
Dazzles with sun beam;
Bees collect honey forms flowers’ stream.
Does not hesitate to flow honey;
Has made the Nature flowery.
She smiles in the lap of Nature;
Enchants the minds of poets with pleasure.
Poet’s derive inspiration;
Enjoy the beauty of creation.
A tiny flower is endowed with beauty;
Allures lovers with gaiety.
Beautiful flower tranquilises mind daily;
Deities enjoy the beauty gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Lessons from the Life of Flowers
Come near and let's think together
The lessons from the life of flower
It is a source of beauty and joy
Children, young and old, all enjoy
Spreading the smell all over
In the park and in the forest, everywhere
No any form of discrimination
Sharing the love and affection
Life of flower is short
Enjoy whatever be the cohort
Smiling in the morning
In the noon, drowsing
Getting refreshed by evening
Every moment of life is for others
Learn to serve dear brothers
Life of a lovely flower
Serving honeybees, butterflies and many other
Touch is so soft and soothing
And effect is so fathoming
Shashikant Nishant Sharma 'साहिल'
{The poem written during a morning walk in the park on 13 May 2012 at in Delhi.}
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Beauty is everywhere
Beauty is everywhere
Only person should dare
Enjoy it to full extent
We remain no cause to resent
Beauty and joy is for ever
In every season everywhere
In nature, in people and in flowers
And why do we forget about rainy showers?
What do I see in flower?
Its fragrance or color
What do I smell when go near?
With curiosity, love or fear
Many have opined about beauty
I consider it most in the almighty
It is with his blessing that we all have eyes
To see and appreciate with no try
I feel sad when think of its tenure
How much it may last? I am not sure
It may even be crushed under feet
Next time I may not see when come again to greet
I am sue one thing
It has magnificent pull for something
Our feet move only in that direction
For swift and smooth action
Beauty can be seen on mother's face
Beautiful horse participating in race
Or lovely garden with colorful roses
Where you have different option to choose
I say with full knowledge
As it must have no edge
It is as natural as possible
Pick it or pluck it if it is permissible
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Remember: Y'all is singular. All y'all is plural. All y'all's is plural possessive.
quote by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty: [Notes for an unfinished poem]
The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,
Is that which pleases us, says Kant,
Without a thought of interest or advantage.
I used to watch men when they spoke of beauty
And measure their enthusiasm. One
An old man, seeing a ( ) setting sun,
Praised it ( ) a certain sense of duty
To the calm evening and his time of life.
I know another man that never says a Beauty
But of a horse; ( )
Men seldom speak of beauty, beauty as such,
Not even lovers think about it much.
Women of course consider it for hours
In mirrors; ( )
A shrapnel ball -
Just where the wet skin glistened when he swam -
Like a fully-opened sea-anemone.
We both said 'What a beauty! What a beauty, lad'
I knew that in that flower he saw a hope
Of living on, and seeing again the roses of his home.
Beauty is that which pleases and delights,
Not bringing personal advantage - Kant.
But later on I heard
A canker worked into that crimson flower
And that he sank with it
And laid it with the anemones off Dover.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Beauty
The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,
Is that which pleases us, says Kant,
Without a thought of interest or advantage.
I used to watch men when they spoke of beauty
And measure their enthusiasm. One
An old man, seeing a ( ) setting sun,
Praised it ( ) a certain sense of duty
To the calm evening and his time of life.
I know another man that never says a Beauty
But of a horse; ( )
Men seldom speak of beauty, beauty as such,
Not even lovers think about it much.
Women of course consider it for hours
In mirrors; ( )
A shrapnel ball -
Just where the wet skin glistened when he swam -
Like a fully-opened sea-anemone.
We both said 'What a beauty! What a beauty, lad'
I knew that in that flower he saw a hope
Of living on, and seeing again the roses of his home.
Beauty is that which pleases and delights,
Not bringing personal advantage - Kant.
But later on I heard
A canker worked into that crimson flower
And that he sank with it
And laid it with the anemones off Dover.
poem by Wilfred Owen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All my life I have tried to pluck a thistle and plant a flower wherever the flower would grow in thought and mind.
quote by Abraham Lincoln
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Desert Flower
Just four or five months
If only you bear with my unsightliness
There, yonder on the frame of this rugged body
I give birth to an amazing flower
That flower with its fleeting prettiness
Will balance your months of tolerance
With utmost ease
The flower will swing at the end of the creeper
With joy you can never get at
My body may gash the fingers that touch me
But within me I bring to life a dainty flower
That turns red just at mere touch
Within, I bear a wondrous beauty
To give shape to an amazing beauty
Beyond your imagination
Your eyes’ thirst for color do I quench
With a handful of good looks
I’ve drawn from my desert inheritance
Flower may wither
But with memories fresh
I make you savor the experience
Of a love eternal, for me
Just four or five months
If only you bear with my unsightliness
There, yonder on the frame of this rugged body
I give birth to an amazing flower
*Original in Telugu by Vinnakota Ravishankar
06 Oct 2010
23.27hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Oh! Flower, I Feel Sorry For You! ! !
I saw a nice little flower…
Enjoying herself in the nice warm fields…
The place felt fine, what a beautiful sight! !
Why didn’t it come yesterday? !
But the joy didn’t last long enough…what a pity!
‘Cause the flower was plucked away! ! !
It was no longer there
So was the beauty
How gloomy the place felt now for sight! !
Why do flowers bloom, if it has to be murdered this way? ?
Still, they bloom, though they die so prematurely…
But to beautify the Earth! !
Why do we hurt these little things, who give us joy? ?
They are the ones who blooms happiness to the world
Aren’t we too bound to be blossomed into flowers of happiness? ? ?
Oh Flower! ! I feel sorry for you! !
Can you be born again? ?
If I could, I would’ve fixed you into yourself again
But powerless I am…powerless except for eyes that are blind, but see evil thoughts
Why doesn’t man think before his acts? ?
Why doesn't he care about his fellow creatures? ? ?
2006
(Do you think before you act? Such as, when you pick a flower? Do you enjoy the beauty and DO YOU throw it away in the trash? Do you ever think of other people who may also enjoy the beauty?)
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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Pretty Flower
Truly thou lovest pretty flowers,
For pretty flower, thyself, thou art.
May I, if tenderly I pluck thee,
Make fast thy tendrils to my heart—
Pretty Flower?
And should Fate deem thee answer, pluck me!
Would one of meager courage dare
To place the hand he feels unworthy
Upon a spotless lily, fair,
Pretty Flower?
poem by Raymond Garfield Dandridge
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Like A Flower
Nothing in life
Can match the beauty of a flower
Its frailness
Its softness
Just like man differs
in shapes and sizes
Each flower can be differed in color
Just like life a flower is diverse
But not unpredictable
A good thing it is “just like”
For if life was only a flower
It was indeed
Short lived
poem by Zarina Binda
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Flower on the Wall
Flower on the Wall
What is your story
I can guess
Blessed be by thy name
Holy is the ground
What has fallen
What is left
Only a flower
That fades with every coming hour
Life walks by
The flower dies
Symbolic is the sight
For those connected it brings fright
Flower on the wall
You bring meaning
A chance for reflection
A beauty that dies
This is nature
To gaze upon you makes me cry
poem by Louis Cecile
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Gardner of beauty
Your beauty is like that of a Gardner tending to his flowers making life more beautiful with each day you tend to them. I could only wish to be one of your flowers in your garden and hope to feel your gentle hands as you would tend to me. Your beauty is to me as rain is to a flower, giving it nourishment for life. your beauty is my rain and it makes my love grow for you like that of the flower. Your loving soul is that of Gods warmth coming from the sun to a flower. Your love is my sun and feeling it's warmth to the touch it makes my soul grow as the flower would on a summer day. How I ask to be your flower and you be my gardener of life.
7-1-09
poem for my wife
poem by Timothy Honeycutt
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The Flower By The Path
A FLOWER was growing alone,
Then alone and for ever alone:
Some one came by,
Saw the flower how fair it had grown,
Chose it, plucked it to die.
And what is a flower alone,
Then alone and for ever alone,
Come no one by?
Why should a flower be fair for its own?
Choose it, pluck it to die.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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