Carnations (Balassi Stanza)
Carnations grow lovely,
perfect beauty I see
in vivid colours of white
red, pink, some are yellow
with loveliness they glow,
are usually quite bright,
they smell somewhat like cloves,
have purity of doves,
they are flowers drawing sight.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Carnations in the garden
There are carnations in the garden
in colours of ruby red,
pure white and blossom pink
and some pink with deep purple inside
and others purple-blue.
I smell the sweet fresh flowers
and look at colours
hue as if by magic
into each other.
Some grow in flowering pots,
some are planted in flowerbeds,
others even in the rock garden
and the flowers at places are mixed
to catch the eye
and everywhere there’s care
and a lot of love
that went into the tending of it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Got You
You're tryin' my patience, try pink carnations, red roses and yellow
daffodils
Don't forget the flowers Sunday, I know you will
Displayers of affection and all good intentions, why don't you just send
me the bill
Don't forget the flowers someday, I know you will
Whether you've been takin' me way too seriously, ewwwewwhoo
I can't ever explain why I don't feel the pain, ewwewwhoo
I left you behind I know its been along time, but I'm not over you
Don't forget the flowers someday, I hope I do
You're tryin' my patience, try pink carnations, red roses and yellow
daffodils
Don't forget the flowers someday
I know I will
Don't forget the flowers someday, I know I will
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forget The Flowers
You're tryin' my patience, try pink carnations, red roses and yellow
daffodils
Don't forget the flowers Sunday, I know you will
Displayers of affection and all good intentions, why don't you just send
me the bill
Don't forget the flowers someday, I know you will
Whether you've been takin' me way too seriously, ewwwewwhoo
I can't ever explain why I don't feel the pain, ewwewwhoo
I left you behind I know its been along time, but I'm not over you
Don't forget the flowers someday, I hope I do
You're tryin' my patience, try pink carnations, red roses and yellow
daffodils
Don't forget the flowers someday
I know I will
Don't forget the flowers someday, I know I will
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Colourful Rose Flower!
Colourful rose flowers give a beautiful idea of pleasure;
Lips of rose petals kiss everyone’s heart with pleasure!
Red rose transports one to the world of love and beauty;
Power of rose among all flowers is undisputed forever!
Red rose is for love, beauty, courage and respect, know!
Yellow rose is for joy, friendship, delight and new bonds!
White rose stands for purity, innocence and humility ever;
Pink rose is gifted for appreciation and thanks for deeds.
Orange rose is for desire, enthusiasm and passion ever!
Lavender rose is linked to love at first sight for all lovers!
Blue rose is for healing, dreams and mystery to be realised
And is recently genetically engineered and produced nice!
Who does not love rose flowers of many colours we see now?
Even rose petals are not left from extracting oil to make perfume!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Flowers Of My Heart
Enter my flowers
love becomes an open
door
into my hearts way
color my love red
the passion of this
blossom
brings fire to my
life
pink and delicate
this rose belongs to
my heart
she overwhelms me
in the purity of
this lovely rose bud
white
I always find delight
I melt in the nectar
of this beautiful
flower
dainty and yellow.
I love.!
the essence of my
coral rose
a blend of many
colors
so endearing
a late bloomer
yet so lovely
adding to my bouquet
once again I come
to the flowers of my
heart
lost in their beauty.
poem by Heather Burns
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Seasons
I
As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.
The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.
Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings
until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.
II
Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid
until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food
and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble
until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.
III
Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing
but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe
and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open
when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Flower’s Name
(after Robert Browing)
I
Through this garden her steps swept
before she opened the gate,
where roses with dew wept
and not a moment longer she could wait,
while there was something gracious in her walk
before she stopped a moment at the letterbox,
in the distance children’s voices she heard talk
while her arm brushed against the snow-white phlox.
II
Her feet carried her in ready steps as she passed by,
saw red carnations in a row
and her eyes sparkled bluer than the sky
while she felt a gentle breeze blow
everywhere flowers and buds did God praise
in their beauty almost casting a spell
while they were blooming for days
with more loveliness and vibrant colours than anyone can tell.
III
She found a flower much more lovely
than any other one she had ever seen
while bees were circling it lively
and to smell it she was keen
but did not know the flower’s name
while it was something precious that she did found,
the flower was blushing as if it were aflame
where it was growing in bloom upon bloom from the ground.
[Reference: “Garden Fancies: I: The flower’s name” by Robert Browing.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Kentish Garden
THERE is a grey-walled garden, far away
From noise and smoke of cities, where the hours
Pass with soft wings among the happy flowers,
And lovely leisure blossoms every day.
There, tall and white, the sceptral lily blows;
There grow the pansy, pink, and columbine,
Brave hollyhocks, and star-white jessamine,
And the red glory of the royal rose.
There greeny glow-worms gem the dusky lawn,
The lime-trees breathe their fragrance to the night,
Pink roses sleep, and dream that they are white,
Until they wake to colour with the dawn.
There, in the splendour of the sultry noon,
The sunshine sleeps upon the garden bed
Where the white poppy droops a drowsy head
And dreams of kisses from the white full moon.
And there, some days, all wild with wind and rain,
The tossed trees show the white side of their leaves,
While the great drops drip from the ivied eaves,
And birds are still--till the sun shines again.
And there, all days, my heart goes wandering,
Because there, first, my heart began to know
The glories of the summer and the snow,
The loveliness of harvest and of spring.
There may be fairer gardens; but I know
There is no other garden half so dear;
Because 'tis there, this many, many a year,
The sacred, sweet, white flowers of memory grow!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Colours Of Life
Sunny morning, golden noon, rose pink twilight, silver moon.
Grey black cloud, creamy sea, lightning bright, green brown tree.
Yellow with age, white with fright, red with rage, black as night.
Green with envy, rainbow hue, in the pink, sky of blue.
Countless colours running rife. These are the colours of our life.
poem by Rod Morris
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The Beautiful Azalea
The beautiful azalea is a woody shrub that never grows into a tree
But the pink flowers on the azalea are so beautiful to see
In the cool to warm days of October when Spring is in the air
And beautiful Mother Nature flowers on her green cloak wear,
How lovely the azalea in the cool shade of the trees
In her mass of pinkish flowers gently stirring in the breeze
Such a thing of natural beauty for to beautify the Spring
In the nice days of October when the nesting song birds sing,
In her tiny leaves of light green and her mass of bright pink flowers
The azalea she is blooming in the sunshine and Spring showers
But time it keeps on ticking and the years go quickly by
And how many more Octobers will i live for to enjoy?
The sight of the beautiful azalea in her pink flowers in the shade
A thing of such rare beauty by Nature only made.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Roses
I used to pick you
bunches of roses
of twenty at a time
from the gardens
at the university.
Sometimes on my way
to Anne Fisher house
I could smell the sweet perfume
of the flowers
and it did something to my heart.
At times I snipped some off
with a pair of scissors
in colours of red, white, yellow
orange, pink and even purple.
We were really in love then
and you appreciated everything
(even the verses
that I wrote)
and it had to be obvious
to the whole university
from where I was getting
all those bunches of flowers,
but somehow they didn’t care
while I dared and dared
time and time again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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You filled my wavering sight (Novelinee)
I have seen a lovely garden that speaks
of the most tender kind of loving care
with tranquillity, beauty at a peak
with different flowers everywhere
in colours and fragrances that delight,
in their bright variety, their kinds of hue
but then you filled my wavering sight
with your words and intentions that are true
and I have never met someone like you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When Purple Petals Show (Balassi Stanza)
When purple petals show
speckled black and yellow,
a small modest lily spread
lovely vivid colours
blooming for many hours
as she opens her bright head
and as time passes by
she draws the human eye
before she withers, are dead.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Varied And Intense
Enriched my office world with two new
flowers, soft purple with yellow centre
and small, unassuming yellow sprig,
exuberance of spring in my life
Adding pink to the passionate orange
flowery explosions next to my desk
was a mistake, a pink cobweb scarf
with silver thread does not work
The colours of my aura probably are
varied and intense to demand such
an array of colours around me, I'm
happy; may this feeling continue
Until I go home today, I need strong
emotion to help me through this
dark shadow in my head…
13 September 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Awaken to Beauty
Sun, sparkling on water
Rainbow in sky.
Full moon, shimmering over cities,
Beauty, beauty is by.
See through the black, the grey,
To colours all around,
Brightening your world, your life;
Beauty, beauty surrounds.
The new leaves on spring trees,
Buds on daffodils.
Flowers, trees bursting with glory,
Beauty, beauty fills.
Snow covering, crystal white,
Summer, green, grass.
Each season brings new pleasures,
Beauty, beauty lasts.
Stand still awhile and see
If you can discern
The loveliness in front of you,
Beauty at every turn.
Bring happiness to your senses,
Bear gladness into you,
Take sometime for yourself,
Beauty is there; stays true.
The Colour of Warmth
You cannot spin the suns rays
For they are golden light
Clothing earth with warmth
Encompassing, coloured green
A rainbow of colour so bright
Growing the flowers, the smell
Seeing the sweet taste
Tasting the colours on your fingers
Bright as a bird in flight
White as a gulls feathered wings
Blue as the flooding tides
Gray as the ebbing, yellow as the sand
You cannot spin the suns rays
For they are golden light
Clothing the earth with warmth
A rainbow colour of sight.
poem by Andrew Shiston
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Early Morning
Flowers grow wild, full of drops of dew
when the sun comes loving over the hillocks
the silver white twilight stays as it lingers
when the sun is orange presents is most lovely colours
and there is beauty just where I look,
the work of the hands of the God of the universe.
When the sun peeks in brightly through the window
dots fall splashing over the floor,
outside the heaven is blue, the veldt is open
as if in this summer you can walk for miles
and there is beauty just where I look,
the work of the hands of the God of the universe.
Outside its suddenly bright shiny day
when you wait with a cup of coffee,
your curls catch my eye, glitter very fine
when you laugh happy, your face full of sunshine
and there is beauty just where I look,
the work of the hands of the God of the universe.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Red Carnations
With big brown eyes
she watches him
where he is sitting
right opposite her
and outside yellow brown
dried out cornfields flash past
as a sign of this winter
and there’s something carefree
in his bright blue eyes.
Next to him on the seat
there are two bushes
of red carnations that she can smell
and she would gladly
received such flowers
from a loved one,
but he’s a stranger
riding along on the train
and she’s thought struck
when he receives a SMS on his cellular phone
and it suddenly feels
as if the whole world folds opens
in front of her
when without words
he hands her the flowers.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Roses
People say Roses are Red,
Then, Red Roses for my passionate love to you
People say Roses are Pink,
Then, Pink Roses to show that I admire you
People say Roses are Yellow,
Then, Yellow Roses to brighten your day
People say Roses are Lavender,
Then, Lavender Roses to say that I love you at my first sight
People say Roses are Orange,
Then, Orange Roses to say that I want to build a relationship with you
And,
People say Roses are White,
Then, The White Rose for the purity and confession of my heart
To confess in my heart that I am truly falling in love with you.
Colours
Colours are just colours
One might suppose
Rage is red…
But then again…
so is a rose
So colours are more
Than they seem, don’t’ you think
For boys it’s usually blue
For little girls always pink
Yep, colours are colours
Perhaps that’s all they should be
Just something to look at
Only something to see
But colours have emotion
At least they do to me
Perhaps I just don’t see hues
In the same way
that you see
Because blue to me
Is more than just a hue
It’s the sky, it’s berries,
Oceans … and sadness too
Green is envy, grass and dinero
Purple is royalty, plums and passion
Yellow is cowardice, butter and tallow
Colours are … whatever you wish to fashion
Perhaps I see colours differently than you
Perhaps exactly the same way… I hope
But my advice to you, whatever you do
Is … don’t get me started on taupe! !
poem by David Whalen
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