The blossoming
I thank you Lord
that you by grace blessed me
to let my slender flowers grow
flooding over in bell like strings
in internodes, joints of roses
not peach, purple or pink
like others of my kind
but in a pure white colouring
with odourless buds opening
and some ridicule, hold my words,
my verses of rhyme and free form in parody
but my flowering is from your hand
and I can understand that they are thinking
of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
which are tempered against the elements
bringing forth fragrant odours
that perfumes the air
but in your shade and care I am blossoming.
[Reference: The blossoming by Tatamkhulu Afrika.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Three prayers during spring
I. I did not expect this early spring
I did not expect that after this severe winter
that destroyed flowers, grass and plants
that this early
without even rain falling, showering down
spring would come in all this glory
with trees blossoming in bright white and pink colours
plants flowering
unfurling and to be again really living.
I did not expect these blessings,
in life’s early winter
that even though I am constrained,
my career is falling to pieces
and not by my own making
my words, my verses
are coming to their own
and this has brought me
to see that God is truly great
that even the seasons of life
is in His hand.
II. My buds are form Your hand
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
causing my slender flowers to grow,
that you let my words pour down like rain
hanging flooding over in bell like strings
in internodes, joints of roses
in a pure white colouring which catches the eye
that by love you delegate me as the one
who is worth to blossom in your shade.
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
not like others of my kind, but hanging
with odourless buds opening
in internodes, joints of roses
in strings upon strings
and although some people want to prune me of blunt,
that you let my words pour down like rain
although people hit in nails
ridicule, hold my words, my verses in parody
with odourless buds opening
my abilities are formed on your grindstone,
although my stems are struggling against a stormy wind.
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
folding your strong hand over me,
although they are thinking of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
ridicule, hold my words, my verses in parody
you are sending my verses out to all places
and I thank you that they are flowing from your hand,
that you let my words pour down like rain
that your light shines like diamonds in every drop,
that you are causing my cups to burst open
although they are thinking of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
which brings forth fragrant odours, but I am
tempered by you to glow with an own beauty.
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
that you let my words pour down like rain
ingenuous, pure and fresh
flooding over in bell like strings
that you are causing my cups to burst open
in a pure white colouring which catches the eye.
l’Envoi
III. In your shade and care I am blossoming
I thank you Lord
that you by grace are blessing me
causing my slender flowers to grow
flooding over in bell like strings
in internodes, joints of roses
not peach, purple or pink
like others of my kind
but in a pure white colouring
with odourless buds opening
and some ridicule, hold my words,
my verses of rhyme and free form in parody
but my flowering is from your hand
and I can understand that they are thinking
of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
which are tempered against the elements
bringing forth fragrant odours
that perfumes the air
but in your shade and care I am blossoming.
[Reference: The blossoming by Tatamkhulu Afrika, Vier gebede gedurende die jaargety in die Boland (Four prayers during the yearly seasons in the Boland.) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Venus in the Garden
'Twas at early morning,
The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,
When in a sweet, embowered garden
She, the fairest of the goddesses,
The lovely Venus,
Roamed amongst the roses white and red.
She sought for flowers
To make a garland
For her golden head.
Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,
In that sweet garden close,
Offered incense to the goddess:
Both the white and the crimson rose.
White roses, red roses, blossoming:
But the fair Venus knew
The crimson roses had gained their hue
From the hearts that for love had bled;
And the goddess made a garland
Gathered from the roses red.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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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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The Holy Rosary (Roses to Mother Mary)
Roses that can never fade;
Roses white and red in shade;
Roses that are heaven-made;
Roses in Mary’s crown laid!
Roses from the hearts that pray;
Roses blossoming night, day;
Roses living all the way;
Roses fit for any Fay!
Roses that will always stay;
Roses brighter than sun’s ray;
Roses everlasting, Aye!
Roses that she can’t say, ’nay’!
The spiritual best weapon,
That brings favors from her son,
That serves to solve problems mundane,
And makes souls fit for life divine!
‘PRAYERS THAT YOU CAN SAY ALL LIFE
TO KEEP AWAY FROM EVERY STRIFE! ’
dedicated to the 'Holy Family Church Grotto' Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-12-10
poem by John Celes
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Sunshine Hue
Sunshine hue, sunshine grew
Shines its rays on me and you
Sunshine light sunshine bright
Not a dark cloud close in sight
Sunshine thrive sunshine grow
Sweet healing rays on all your tribe
Sunshine healing, sunshine show
The pure essence of our being
Sunshine parade, sunshine displayed
In its fractionised barricade
Sunshine tranced, sunshine danced
Gave our souls such sweet romance
Sunshine dove, sunshine above
Thanks for your sweet rays of love
So sun kissed and pure sun bliss
Sunshine blocks out all the mist
So sunshine mellow sunshine yellow
You’ve made me a lucky fellow
There is a garden where very few
can roam, not very far from home
Come closer, I am alone, just now
Go past cobwebs glistening like silver
Come closer, you're the rose
I want the most to go through
My garden of ice and snow
Blooming with rich fragrant roses
Velvety black, blue and red
Each with perfume of love
As I sleep below the roses
Loneliness has reached my skin
I need the love that ebbs and flows
Just a sip from your succulent nectar
Shall free me from this small pain
Dig deep beneath the thorny layers
And free me from your heart
That we can share the midnight hours
and know how I hunger and thirst
Just a shield me, protect me
And this shall will give me power
To become a loved once again
Without it I will fade away
I'd rather have roses on my table
Than diamonds on my neck
Where flowers bloom so does hope
Each flower is a soul opening out to nature
Perfumes are the feelings of flowers
The world is one giant rose
Smell it and pass it onto your friends
When bright flowers bloom
Parchment crumbles, my words fade
The pen has dropped...
Flowers are love's truest language
I will touch a hundred flowers
And never pick one, none
They are not long, the days of wine and roses
Out of a misty dream our path emerges
For a while, then closes within a dream
There came a time when the risk
To remain tight in the bud
Was more painful than the risk it took
Blossoming flowers are the sweetest things
Ever made and forgot to put a soul into
It is at the edge of a petal that love waits
Pure as any one of you
Who can estimate the elevating and refining
Influences and moral value of flowers
With all their graceful forms
Bewitching shades and combinations
Colours and exquisitely varied perfumes
These silent influences are unconsciously felt
Even by those who do not appreciate them
And thus with better and still better flowers
Will the earth be transformed, man's thought
Refined, and turned from the base destructive
Forces into nobler, more simpler production
One which will lift us to high planes of action
Toward the happy day when the angels
Of all this beautiful work is more acknowledged
Loved with many richer grains
Better fruit and fairer flowers from this earth
For myself I hold no preferences among flowers
So long as they are wild, free, spontaneous.
Observe this dew drenched rose garden
A rose today, tomorrow and yesterday
It was the dust, the sunshine, and the rains
Which I first saw, or desired to see, the flower
In the cherry blossom's shade
There's no such thing as a stranger
The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers
The dreams are as beautiful in friendship
Fragrant garden, there are flowers of every hue
Each with its own fair beauty and its gift of joy
None can have a healthy love for flowers
Unless he loves the wild ones freely
White blossoms slowly float down
Dancers in the wind as everything has been
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room
To my way of thinking
But even on solitary little vase
Home of a living flower may redeem it
Thought of before, in the hope
Reaching the moon, men fail to see
The flowers that blossom at their feet
Who would have thought it possible
That a tiny little flower could preoccupy
A persons mind completely
There simply wasn't room for any other thought
Let me show you the sweet smell
A delicate whisper behind the vision
Gardens are drunk from roses
And it is my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes
Flowers leave their fragrance
In the hand that bestows them
We gathered the wild flowers
There seemed one pure delight
Through the field we roamed
There seemed one pure delight
Silently a flower blooms
In silence it falls away
Yet here now, at this moment, at this place
The world of the flower
The whole of you is blooming
This is the talk of the flower
The truth of the blossom
The glory of eternal life
Is fully shining here
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room, to my way of thinking;
but even on solitary little vase of a living flower may redeem it.
There grows the flower of Peace
The Rose that cannot wither
Do not the petals flutter down
Just like this?
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened and into the rose garden with all the flowers of all the tomorrows are in the seeds of today, every flower about a house certifies to the refinement of somebody, every vine climbing and blossoming tells of love and joy and stories yet to come…
poem by Char Pattrick
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A place to be
We often search around
For a garden of roses and flowers,
A scene to enjoy, a moment to cherish,
A place to be.
But
It reminds us of what is not done;
No need to go far,
When the buds lay near,
Touching the inside with vigor,
Kindling the heart with soothing fragrance,
Flowering of courage,
Blossoming of confidence
Blooming of strength,
Sprouting of love -
An inner garden
A real place to be.
poem by Ibrahim Ibn Salma
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All our morning glory days are done
All our morning glory days are done
just like the flowers
that you made me rip out
from where they grew
towering under the sun.
The garden is empty
and stripped of the violet flowers
that grew everywhere
and I am no longer there
and wonder if the geraniums,
irises, marigolds, white lilies,
red roses and lavender
are still being watered
or is every thing in your life
just fading away
into death
with the falling leaves
of this autumn?
poem by Gert Strydom
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It is Spring Time
It is Spring Time
It is spring time.
I can smell it in the air.
I can smell the flowers.
I can smell the grass.
I can touch the grass.
I can touch and taste the vegetable growing in the garden.
The weather is changing.
The weather is warming up.
The trees are blossoming.
The flowers are blossoming.
It is spring time.
Easter has passed.
Beltane has passed.
Spring and May is here.
This is the time to tend to your garden and planted some flowers.
Some people pray to God to protect their garden.
Some people pray to Mother Nature for protect.
I do both and I thank God for this planet.
It is Spring Time.
The animals and bugs come out to play.
The frogs jump around the pond.
The wildflower comes out.
The sky is clean and blue.
The sun is shining.
The horses are running free.
The sunflowers are growing.
When seasons the earth also changes it is a beautiful way.
Nature is every where.
It is spring time.
There is rain and storm.
The trees have leaves and it arms.
The trees are ancient.
An apple falls down from the trees.
This is what thinks spring time is for me.
Spring time is beautiful.
Spring time is when nature is beautiful.
It is spring time.
Spring time is here.
The rabbits come out, and hop round.
The bees are collection honey for us.
The tulips are blossoming.
The roses are blossoming, and looking so beautiful.
The lavender is purple and bright.
Spring time is a time to celebrate.
Spring time is a time to clean our environment.
It is spring time.
Spring time is a time when rain falls.
Spring time is the time when the seasons changes.
Spring time is when the plants grow.
Spring time is my favorite season.
Spring time is the time to be happy.
It is spring time.
poem by Crystal Chown
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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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In the garden irises are flowering (Novelinee)
In the garden irises are flowering
in colours of yellow, purple and blue
as if something to them are happening
some are mixed in yellow and purple too
and some are mauve, or some are somewhat brown,
I wonder if other flowers I will see
where magnificent they grow on their own,
while the weavers are singing constantly
in a kind of solemn serenity.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Roses, Roses
Roses, Roses blooming bright!
In earth’s gardens; ‘What a sight! ’
Studding plants in dawn’s dew, light;
And perfuming day and night!
Queen of flowers, roses stay;
Budding, blossoming en way;
Hues pretty, very well laid;
Decorating bride and maid.
Oh, what mind had shaped thee thus!
And what hearts enjoy thy bliss;
Thorns amongst green leaves just say,
‘Beauty needs protection, Aye! ’
Roses, Roses petaled fine;
Standing glorious in sunshine;
Beauty unmatched on earth, thine;
Making garlands more divine!
Roses add to Mary’s crown,
Reciting Rosaries when;
Blessings and grace then come down,
Making souls fit for heaven!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 06-12-2010
poem by John Celes
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To Give Me Love
to give me love
Jesus made green onions and dragon flies.
Roses are violet parme and purple and white.
Love is a creature living for life.
Eye do NOT send her flowers made of thistles
but ewe eye send to ewe mye love.
Eye search for colored roses
and eye look for flowers made of shaded hues,
because eye love ewe more than my own life;
more than simple poem words can tell.
Antidisestablishmentarianism and other knoeing words
aer hard for me to spell.
Eye speel ewe and love parme and violette and Mary.
My flowers made of white and purple stones.
to give me love
poem by Charles Hice
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A vase of flowers
I saw a vase of purple-pink roses
lying on your dark brown buffet
and simply had to have it.
“Who painted this, ” I immediately enquired
loving the picture more with each look
that I took of it
as it’s not your thing
to paint still life’s with flowers.
“I painted it. It’s like painting pillow slips, ”
you replied and astonished
I looked at it again
and this was on board
and not in water colours
but done with oil paint.
The folds of the cups were edged
in ridges along their lines
using the techniques
of your abstract paintings
and one smaller unopened bud
laid next to the bowl
almost running into your name.
Little pink flowers was in the background
where the transparent vase with green stems
was against the wall on a tiled floor.
[Reference: Vase with roses by Mandi Engelbrecht. (This painting belongs to me.) ]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The car of Johnny staying at home
The car of Johnny staying at home
takes the garden route
and the old green wheelbarrow creaks
while I fill it up
with weeds.
I pull a lever
and like magic sprinklers appear
in the garden
and the two cats
run moaning out of the water,
before the dogs
rollick barking in it.
I am angry with the Indian Miners, rats,
insects and snails
that eats holes out of my ripe tomatoes
and even wreck the spinach
before they are even ripe
and I wonder if I am farming
for myself and my darling
or the wild animals
and who really are going to eat the fruit?
There are sparrows and doves
in the branches of the pepper tree
that are peering and waiting
for me to throw out some seed
and it’s getting white hot
while the sun
rises higher in the sky
and I enjoy
dark red roses, purple irises
and orange, white and pink
geraniums that are all flowering.
poem by Gert Strydom
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People Who Died
Oak trees are tall and
Reach for the sky,
Blossoming dogwood
Can be pink or white and irises, yellow
Evergreens gently sway in a summer breeze,
As I look towards the sky, cloud covered or
Sometimes a deep shade of blue-
I feel alive and lost inside a world of my imaginings-
I am alone in a world where many loved ones have passed-
My father, warm, and strong and had a zest for life,
My mother sometimes happy, more often sad,
My grandmother, eccentric and funny and my aunt-
In my eyes, special and like a mother to me-
Oak trees are tall and reach for the sky,
Blossoming dogwood and irises, yellow-
It is the springtime of the year and I wonder
Where to have my loved ones departed?
Beneath the ground, near the roots of blossoming flowers, or
Up in the sky, towards where tall oak trees are reaching?
I see a rainbow on the horizon, and
The sun, golden, rising above the mountains-
Clouds giving way to a sky, cobalt blue in its hue-
Where and if people have souls or spirits,
Some do not know for certain, but I know, I am never alone,
Although my loved ones are amongst the departed-
Oak trees, tall, dogwoods blossoming in the early spring this year and
Evergreens shall be present for always-
Inside of my mind, my loved ones have never died,
I can still hear their voices in deep conversation-
I can almost feel their warm embraces- I am never alone-
I am never alone because I believe in spirits and carry them inside
My heart and my mind everywhere I go-
I see their faces in every blossoming flower,
Their voices echoing in every breeze-and one day
We shall dance together on the horizon, because I believe that
People really do not die as fond memories shall carry their spirits home-
And home is wherever I walk, what I see and in the beauty of nature, while
The rainbow on the horizon reflects that everlasting love in our souls…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Come to my garden
Come to my garden
when purple irises flower perfectly,
morning glories summit over every thing
and be speechless by the glory
of sunspots that trumpet their beauty purple-blue
and violets that rise up everywhere.
Come to my garden
when purple irises flower perfectly,
see roses from crimson to auburn
and find no words and become dumbstruck
by odours and colours that my plants trumpet forth
and come and look at every thing, come my most precious flower,
come to my garden.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I dreamt of walking in a lovely garden
(after Percy Bysshe Shelley)
I dreamt of walking in a lovely garden
and it was in the time of spring
where sprouts appeared where the ground did harden
and everywhere I could hear birds sing.
Around me there were flowers everywhere,
irises in colours of yellow, purple and blue,
scented roses in white, orange and red that made me stare
at their particular lovely hue.
Everything was fresh and new after the rain showers
and in that garden I was somewhat cosy,
I wanted to pick a bunch of flowers,
tie them into a scented posy
and I wondered for who,
as no one to me was true.
[Reference: “The Question” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pink Rose
Somewhere
Upon my doorstep
A pink rose
Lay dying,
Although I never meant to hurt anyone,
All I could do was to pluck it from its branch
Not to give it to you –
Or to anyone,
Moreover,
Though-
It now lies haphazardly, and awkwardly
Alone in the grass in a graveyard
Withering –
All of its life has been usurped,
And-
All that is left alive is one thorn
Upon its stem,
Sticking into my side.
I cry out in pain,
But death never makes me weep, only laugh-
I know your father died some year’s ago-
Pink roses were laid upon his gravesite-
Everyone mourned, except for myself;
I placed my hand over may mouth and giggled.
I pick flowers, most often roses,
Wherever I walk,
Knowing they cannot live, when broken form their branches.
I laughed at your father’s funeral last year,
And picked a hundred pink roses form his rose garden,
I believe,
I am so sorry,
I was just being me,
I never meant to hurt anyone.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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My mistress’ eyes (in answer to William Shakespeare)
My mistress’ eyes has a bluer hue to them
than the colour of the cobalt sky,
not coral nor tomato can compare
to the soft care that I find on her lips
and the touch of her fingertips
is more gentle than any breeze
and the colour of her hair is rarer, more unique
than that of grass, or that which metal wires can hold
and her breasts and nipples
has a greater purity, enticement to them
than any snow or the darling buds of May
and the beauty that she holds, is more fragrant
than the flowers that even roses do display
when our true need for each other unfolds.
[Reference: Sonnet “My mistress’ eyes” by William Shakespeare]
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.