Cosmos
So much rain fell
that the grass
was like a swamp
and next to the road
suddenly wildflowers bloomed
in colours of white, pink
and crimson-brown.
On long green stems
they grew together
the petals almost
in the shape
of a fortget-me-not
but much more spread
at the front edge.
Some kids might take them
to play the I love you game,
but do so in vain.
The smell of cosmos
hangs soft in the air
and there were patches
of colour everywhere.
I picked some with regret
to see the petals fold over
to hide their heads
of yellow and black specks.
Far to brittle to the touch,
still their beauty was too much
and I thought God,
You made nature really great.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
My Daughter Tanya
My Daughter Tanya
In my dreams I saw a gorgeous Pink rose
Heavenly soul wanted me to have it in my garden
I woke up and started thinking of it
Winter came and the weather grew cold
Beautiful single rose grew out of moist soil
Rain water harvested my rose well
It grew straight bloomed in spring
Flourished in summer
Scent was lovely everyone knew
Petals were very soft and shiny
Little rose bud was clad in pink petals
You were sent to me from God,
In the shape of gorgeous pink rose
With the sweetness of all honey bees
As soon as spring revealed itself.
I found Pink rose in my house
Its beauty gave me a sense of power
Its presence gave me the taste of mother hood
I have made it comprehensible
This is you my elder daughter Tanya
I love you dear
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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Rose Petals
Rose petals are so soft to touch,
rose petalsfragrance is so divine to smell,
rose petals are like lovely lips which smile,
rose petals are given to lady love,
rose petals are spread on bed of newly bride,
rose petals are life of butterflies,
rose petals are used for beauty baths,
rpse petals are offered on the lotus feet of god,
rose petals are placed on grave of dear ones,
rose petals are offered in river ganga for departed soul,
rose petals are showered on newly weds,
rose petals are decorated on festive days,
roses are given as a promise for everlasting love.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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Everything is going to be wet
Every day rain falls down
from the overcast grey sky
and lightning bolts
flash blue white
like the fingers
of the gods
caressing the earth
while the leaves of autumn
cover every tree
in auburn, yellow and brown.
Green leaves on the stems
of big pink hollyhocks
here and there
dip up and down
when hit by drops of rain
as if suddenly coming alive
and it’s going to be
a wet winter
and probably
not all that chilly
with rain falling
out of season.
The grass is green
and everything but trees
are growing
as if it’s still spring.
and flowers bloom
on geraniums, roses, hollyhocks,
lilies, irises and petunias
in colours ranging
from white, orange, yellow,
violet to red and blue
and without covering
everything is going
to be wet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Death In The Morning...!
A single solitary sun ray
Dashing through the morning dew
Touched the side of the little yellow flower
Trying to wake up spredding yellow petals
A top the green grassy hill...
The birds washing their faces
Whistling little tunes
Glanced at the flower
With a delight in their eyes...
Like the blade of a fencing sword
Racing through the wind
The sharp edge of the grass cutters cutter
Caught the little flower
Chopping it into thousand yellow specks...
Among the green slivers
That showered back on to the grass
Little golden yellow specks
Smiled sadly a last smile
Shattered dew drops
Lazily settled down
Kissing the yellow dust
Trying to feel the flower
Trying to kiss its face...!
poem by Rowving Smith
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How to make your wishes come true
She liked white and had not said a word yet
On her tenth birthday
she stood on the red steps
of the red opera house
-the red opera house on the north side of Sydney Harbour
almost opposite the white opera house
She scattered orange petals, yellow petals, green leaves and spoke
in a light blue voice
A bird of navy blue pink and gold feathers stood by her. Was this the grateful bird? Purple gold and white danced
She said
white stillness, pure gold, purple wonder, gold strength, pink joy, pink infinity, navy blue now, strong indigo blue, light blue fountain, the green first reason, compassionate orange, endless yellow,
royal red, single red, free orange, free yellow, green depth as clear as crystal, all attractive light blue, strong indigo blue, strong navy blue, pink wishes, gold compassion, compassionate purple,
gold of golds, of creativity, white of whites, gold truth, purple mentor, funny gold, pink friend of children, navy blue of nature,
indigo blue knowledge, light blue song of nature, green creation, yellow in senses, orange guide, red way, red inspirer, orange giver, yellow help, dazzling green, light blue of the delicate, with indigo blue eyes, navy blue good, with pink kind eyes, golden hair, golden complexion, purple complexion, gold warmth, of white space, white and gold love, of all purple knowledge, gold presence, pink in thunder and storms, navy blue pleasure, indigo blue beauty,
light blue lines, all attractive green, of yellow stirring music, of orange, red refuge, clear red, orange orange, yellow yellow, with green giving hands, of green, light blue truth, indigo blue essence, navy blue sparkle, pink with gold, purple guide, gold here, here white, white is the sun with penetrating vision, purple and golden constant winner, gold reach, of all pink, infinite navy blue, indigo blue knowledge, light blue care, deep green in greens, orange truth, dedicated to yellow, red peace, red glory, orange beauty, yellow, of green and light blue evenings, handsome indigo blue, intelligent navy blue, pink of pinks, of gold golds, purple purple, gold friend,
openness, formless white and gold, prevailing purple, efficient purple, purple origin, purple form, gold and permanent pink, navy blue belief, indigo blue blue, dense green, orange, yellow, red friend, red
and fell silent
Are the colours telling us that reciting the girl's words could make all our wishes come true? What else do red orange yellow green light blue indigo blue navy blue pink gold purple gold white know?
Today is a Monday
poem by Bhupen Thakker
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Dream Flight Tiny Flowers
a dandelion dazzles
bright yellow petals
set among soft blades
green grass carpets
flowers waiting host bees
in pollen quest flights
petals fade to dreams
dandelion transcends
really to harness winds
assumes new dimensions
aeronautical aspirations
tiny flowers bunched seeds
together dream lift flights
to distant diverse fields
dandelion purpose blooms
dream flight tiny flowers
produce seed parachutes
compass aline on heavens
choose navigation stars
rich green grass maps
imagination showers
through blue skies
or grey black storms
watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds
souls dance time changes
through wonder ranges
yellow petals subtle changes
one day transformation clicks
into white honeycomb wishes
fades into spectral stems
preparations need seeds
in readiness to roam skies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Colourful Family Tree
This world is made up of colours and,
I am glad to come up from a colourful family tree.
There are many colours around us and,
You can enjoy the colours in your bathrooms too;
For nature is full of colours!
Like the human beings,
I an brown in colour and my mother is a black woman from Africa.
I have many relatives all over the continets and,
My father is a white man from the U.S.A.
Four of my aunties are from Australia, Japan, Brazil and the U.K.;
Four of my uncles are from India, Mexico, Canada and Denmark;
So i grew up among many colours of this world.
A colourful family tree is what i came from and,
I am very glad to meet various colours in my life time;
For a long the lines of my growth,
I have come to love all the colours around me.
Colours are very beautiful and we need them around us,
They are in your offices and your houses too;
Yes, we need all the colours to beautify things around us.
Black is beautiful and white is beautiful too,
For we were made from the Creator with colours!
And i am very glad to be part of this family tree.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Wonderful Painting
A Wonderful Painting
by Alex Lewis
I remember before my mother's art
When I was but an egg.
The painting took color in every part.
One shade is but a leg.
The lavish blues spread across the page like a waving, smiling sea.
The canvas was plain and bare, except the blues, happily set free.
With the blue, I went to play as childish as I may.
The one clam and I sat with ourselves on the whaling bay.
This is me, like a leaf, on my first day at green.
So, all the others spoke; I found that none were mean.
There were dark greens, light ones, and one stuck in the middle.
After math, my friend and I learnt to play the fiddle.
My friend and I continued to play our little tune.
We soon fell in pink to which neither one was immune.
Our pink grew and grew as each day had passed.
Green had ended blue; only pink would last.
We took our pink and ran right through to angry, waiting brown.
Brown was angry for making him wait with a black-white frown.
We explained that blue made us wait for an azure set of eighteen.
He forgave us. My friend, brown, pink, and I live for only one team.
We decided to get the canvas and add a dash of white.
Pink was overwhelmed as white carried on through the love-filled night.
We can add white to family before blue decides to return again.
Red will also join the painting party-Another eighteen before men!
It took a lot of work to make my dear reds come.
I enjoyed the work, but my reds were way more fun.
One red stayed with us, but the other ran away rather young.
Maybe brown kidnapped him early, but strange words travel by tongue.
We turned grey as brown dimmed down, but we swear we've never seen pink more bright!
Brown had completely gone, like both of our reds, but pink still made things light.
I then feared and cried as my pink's grey burned out like a setting sun.
My grey began to fade too, but I was ready. My life was done.
My mother handed me the canvas and the frame,
But I had to add all the colors (none I showed for shame) .
Blue, green, pink, brown, red, grey-my portrait is made of those colors,
But I am just one piece in a gallery, and all of you are the others.
poem by Alex Lewis
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A flower for the night [2]
In the garden we sat watching the stars,
talking softly, intimately while she smoked
and the cigarette glowed red
with her perfume and its flavour
mixing on the evening air
and around us there were flowers
opening everywhere
and some had large cups, others hanged
with petals in strings
in different hues from white, pink,
red to crimson, violet and blue.
There is a flower (whose name I know)
who showed me the most beautiful petals
and bloomed one night
in a bed besides me
in sheer nudity
with perfection in ever aspect of her body
while the full moon rose almost silver white
on a cloudless night
she was soft, firm and tender
and her lips sweet and hot
and I could not resist her,
the intimacy, the tenderness
and the love that she brought.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Primrose
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole--
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks--
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the flange of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree--
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes--
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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racism- A Game Of Colour
I give you a set of colours
Red, blue, green, yellow, pink, brown, black and white
And you would say red and blue are complement complimentary,
and that contemporary brown and green are supplementary
And white is elementary,
and that black is voluntary
I would say its the adjective of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is trauma of complexion
You argue black is obscurity,
white is dazzling and brown poverty
with yellow as footling
But i withstand your considerations
I would say they are the adjectives of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is shame humanitarian
Tired! wanna defend?
Well, i give you some more parameters:
Demography, shape, education, economy, gender
You would say demography is fortune
And shape is good trait
That economy is brained brawn power
While gender supporting the theory of magnetism-'Unlike poles attract each other'
I would say they suffice for adjectives of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is as despicable as a heinous odour
Hither and thither,
helter skeleter,
far and near,
thereover, hereunder,
I find, you see, we have colours blaming each other
Some colours say they are souvenirs
And that rest are samaritans
Some colours say they are absolute riches
And that others are dumped ditches
Hypothetically colours have some limitations
Like the dimensions in a piece of paper
And once it is replete
There is no need for scribbling black and blue
Like in reality some job agencies tag some skilled candidates to be obsolete-
Only coz' they don't match a colour of their tape-the bureaucratic red tape,
Or, they do not have blue references for a lush green outcome as future
Here ironically, one should really ponder
The world around us would have been a sheer monotony
Bereft of all hues considered as under
Casts, creeds, race and religion,
Culture, scripture, pictorial mother nature are all the very similar
They are phonetics like alpha and a we caricature
That we are all the same red when scratched or when required:
They are all in the same plane of earth
Only dimensions and appearences differ
So that human life becomes a snapper
Do colours really speak?
I asked the whole world
And you know?
People quote as white monarchs;
People smote as brown oligarchs;
People wrote as black democrats;
People vote as yellow technocrats;
And colours all making them beautiful
Like the significant black nightfall,
white day,
yellow sunshine,
green leaves to blossom and enshrine
Same as the burlesque bounties of bespoke bespectacled nature
who is incomparably incredible with all her attributes
I sat sniggering and contemplative
As racism walks in tandem with all virtues vying them
It stings like a ratatouille
where people, gets, getting, shall be getting stewed hours forever
As racism seems like a schizoid daydream
As racism is - a pharmakone.
I am a thinking victim of such maelstrom
Searching for ancillary stores in its claustrophobic confines;
Like a fly staggering in a spider spun web
I then scooped at this child,
A child drawing on a white paper the colour of imaginations
I derived a cryogenic satisfaction
For this child is not superseded,
and it deracinated the hedonistic outlaws,
the picture of nature- a reality
with its barbling waterways, the labyrinths having rich impacto of sherbert colours and, and
having a honeymoon,
And no sign of bacchanal pride,
no symbol of banal pejorative prejudice,
I derived that colours are always distinguishing
And not meant for any pugnacious ensuing
As it is horribly prescient,
more than the floundering earth beneath melting ice-caps.
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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Cherry Blossoms Adrift
Pink petals passing
Scents above so high
Painted porcelain perfection
Blossoms caress the sky
Swaying silent shroud
Suitors strolling by
Pink petals passing
Lover's gentle sigh
Pastel hues falling
Slow fluttering grace
Pink petals passing
Lining streams in lace
Pink petals passing
Smoothest transit by
Soft essence floating
In most subtle lullaby
Inducing springtime slumber
Upon a satin shore
Sailing with the current
Pink petals pass before
(1999)
poem by Mary Fumento
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Anguish Thoughts
I saw a flower
Not so fresh, enchanting
It has no sweet smell as roses have.
But it has the thorns of roses.
If I touch a flower
I can tell its soft or rough
But all flowers are soft
Soft petals with sweet fragrance
Make a flower beloved.
But I can’t touch this flower
For it is dangerous.
But worms found its bed
And going to destroy my little flower.
Can this secret love
Destroy her crimson petals?
poem by Abdul Hakeem Parannur
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The Last Lovely Rose Of The Fall
Her pink petals lay on the short grass beside the red brick garden wall
By the thorny mother that bore her the last lovely rose of the Fall
White butterflies flit in the garden in the warm sunshine of mid day
And the shrike thrush he pipes on a low branch in his cloak of light brown to gray,
The rose tree has lost her last and her finest daughter next year new roses she will bear
And the rose tree in her flowers does look lovely than her there is none quite so fair
And her flowers they must return to Nature and on Nature's bosom decay
And the rose tree herself sooner or later must return to Nature one day,
The dark willy wagtail he sits on the brick wall his long black tail he wags to and fro
For him 'tis a very good Season on butterlies fat he does grow
Each life form serves a purpose in Nature for one to live one has to die
And what comes from Nature goes back to Nature and the same goes for you and for i
The pink rose petals lay on the grass by their mother on this warm March day in the Fall
And of all of the flowers in the garden in bloom she was the fairest of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In The Early Morning [2]
In the early morning
dew covers every piece of grass and flower
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground
that appears after the first rain,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
Some dew covers every piece of grass and flower,
and new buds appear
on long green stems,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
in an aromatic existence.
At dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
on long green stems,
butterflies appear new from there metamorphoses
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays,
at dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
bees and butterflies fly to and thro
in the early morning
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wild Daisies
They are Nature's natural survivors though they seem so dainty and small
And they bloom in all Seasons and weather In Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
With yellow hearts and snow white petals the wildflowers everybody does know
Even on the coldest days of Winter they bloom in the shade by hedgerow
Wild daisies distinct from all others the flowers everyone recognize
They close their petals to the night air and open their hearts to the sunrise
Even in the coldest days of Winter the wildflowers one often does see
So dainty looking yet so hardy they always do look disease free
When I was young in depths of Winter they bloomed in the fields far away
The very same species of wild daisies I see in the town park today
They must have been around forever the hardiest of little wildflowers
They even bloom in the coldest of weather in the sleety and wintery showers
They are Nature's natural survivors the poets their praises do sing
They bloom in all Seasons and weather Summer, Autumn and Winter and Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pink Flowers.
Do not text me or think otherwise
I am just picking flowers from my garden.
Last evening I picked a red rose but
Wow! It proved to be too red for my date
Today I visited the same garden
The only flower I found was a white rose.
Where is my favourite pink rose?
This morning I cycled to the market
Sure, to buy my date a pink rose
But the only roses there were yellow and purple.
Tried to enquire where I could get one
But no one knows where to find.
Went to my flower vendor but nowhere to find
Where will I get my pink rose for my date?
Tomorrow, I'll travel far and wide
Only to get this precious pink flower
And if I succeed, my date will be happy
And my heart will find a solace rest
Amidst the residue of love petals
Just with the pink flower petals.
Where will I get my Pink rose flower?
(Dedicated for my pink flower date)
poem by Aron Lelei
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Feri's Dream
I Had a little dog, and my dog was very small;
He licked me in the face, and he answered to my call;
Of all the treasures that were mine, I loved him most of all.
His nose was fresh as morning dew and blacker than the night;
I thought that it could even snuff the shadows and the light;
And his tail he held bravely, like a banner in a fight.
His body covered thick with hair was very good to smell ;
His little stomach underneath was pink as any shell;
And I loved him and honoured him, more than words can tell.
We ran out in the morning, both of us, to play,
Up and down across the fields for all the sunny day ;
But he ran so swiftly--he ran right away.
I looked for him, I called for him, entreatingly. Alas,
The dandelions could not speak, though they had seen him pass,
And nowhere was his waving tail among the waving grass.
The sun sank low. I ran; I prayed: ' If God has not the power
To find him, let me die. I cannot bear another hour.'
When suddenly I came upon a great yellow flower.
And all among its petals, such was Heaven's grace,
In that golden hour, in that golden place,
All among its petals, was his hairy face.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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No Red Rose
But once bloomed that crimson rose
which could stand with her head held high,
against life's darkest sky.
Just once did that delicate petals spread
and soft lovely fragrance scent,
before she dropped her head.
Just once the blush on your cheek,
and the light in your eye
had a thousand words to speak,
but never could it hide the pain
- and drops not of rain -
did vanish behind a bright new day,
but every pleasure it's a price to pay:
since no rose could forever stay.
poem by Gert Strydom
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