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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 Beautiful Flower Blooming

A withered flower blooming again
breeze shook the flower
the sun is shining on flower
rain water to wash the dust-filled flower
abort storm petals
storm that renders the flower petals
polling beetle sucking painful

flower that bloom so bright today
beauty exudes an aura of coolness of the beholder
spread the fragrance that invites a bee to touch
although many other flowers around it
bees sucking the flower first
choose to suck and touch the flower
lately the flower
always bloom radiate beauty
a bee was not able to get away from the flower
a bee sucking the beautiful bloomington
always produce the honey taste good
really beautiful relationship between the flower and bee
both are very compatible and complement each other

poem by meti Rahmawati
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The Flower

I

Here's the garden she walked across,
Arm in my arm, such a short while since:
Hark, now I push its wicket, the moss
Hinders the hinges and makes them wince!
She must have reached this shrub ere she turned,
As back with that murmur the wicket swung;
For she laid the poor snail, my chance foot spurned,
To feed and forget it the leaves among.

II

Down this side of the gravel-walk
She went while her robe's edge brushed the box:
And here she paused in her gracious talk
To point me a moth on the milk-white phlox.
Roses, ranged in valiant row,
I will never think that she passed you by!
She loves you noble roses, I know;
But yonder, see, where the rock-plants lie!

III

This flower she stopped at, finger on lip,
Stooped over, in dout, as settling its claim;
Till she gave me, with pride to make no slip,
It's soft meandering Spanish name:
What a name! Was it love, or praise?
Speech half-asleep or song half-awake
I must learn SPanish, one of these days,
Only for that slow sweet name's sake.

IV

Roses, if I live and do well,
I may bring her, one of these days,
To fix you fast with as fine a spell,
Fit you each with his Spanish phrase;
But do not detain me now; for she lingers
There, like sunshine over the ground,
And ever I see her soft white fingers
Searching after the bud she found.

V

Flower, you Spaniard, look that you grow not,
Stay as you are and be loved for ever!
Bud, if I kiss you 'tis that you blow not:
Mind, the shut pink mouth opens never!
For while it pouts, her fingers wrestle,
Twinkling the audacious leaves between,
Till round they turn and down they nestle—
Is not the dear mark still to be seen?

VI

Where I find her not, beauties vanish;
Whither I follow her, beauties flee;
Is there no method to tell her in Spanish
June's twice June since she breathed it with me?
Come, bud, show me the least of her traces,
Treasure my lady's lightest footfall!
—Ah, you may flout and turn up your faces—
Roses, you are not so fair after all!

poem by Robert Browning from Garden Fancies (1845)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Blooming Pleasures

Blooming Pleasures
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted 2006

My flower was grown with buds
Waiting to bloom by a man.

My flower was deflowered with
Blooms opened fertilized its seed.

My flower was defiled by
My ex love for he forgot to
Love, compassion with attention.

My flower was debloomed and
Felt wilted with no buds.

My flower was grown with
New buds by a new man, who cares,
Gives love, compassion with attention.

My flower was deflowered again
By the new man the first day we met.

My flower sowed its seed
3 times at the Hyatt March 10th,
After being out of the Robert Wood Johnson
Hospital emergency room for Cardiology.

I say my heart works fine,
But I might need a hip or joint replacement.

poem by Lori Triggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Once There Was A Flower

i like this to be as simple
as this:

once there was a
flower
a very white flower
blooming
in my garden

and once there was a bee
a very busy bee
getting nectars
from the flowers in my
garden
except from that very white
flower
in my garden

the bee died
the flower died too
and they never really lived
happily everafter.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody likes

Nobody likes

A plant

Without flower buds

A flower bud that does not

Bloom in to a flower

A flower

That is not beautiful

Nobody remembers

A flower

That does not have

An aromatic smell

A person

Who does not have a

Charming behavior

Whose deeds do not?

Spread

Aroma in the world

25-02-2012

244-155-02-12

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Delicate Flower

once you tear a flower up,
they can never come back.

leave the precious flower alone,
let it bloom into a beautiful art.

there are so many different flower,
red one, blue one, pink ones.

there are even multicolors,
look around your garden.

notice that you're not alone,
the whole world is around you.

dont pretend to be something you're not,
because you only have one chance.

a delicate flower needs love,
in order to live with the world.

most of all, you need someone,
so help a delicate flower.

you'll never regret it,
they need to be cared for.

just like you,
you're not alone.

poem by Heather Cropper
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A Flower For You My Dear

A flower will bloom on my plant too one day
And I shall offer it to you my dear.
My flower will have many petals,
Its colour will be that turns you envious of it and
Its fragrance will traverse beyond your stretches.

When I offer you my flower you will visit my garden perchance
And you will nip all the buds at once.
My flower will frown at me then and
I shall cry unto the skies
Till the stars invite me to join them for ever.

poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Flower Flower

Flower flower,
Seasonal art;
Gracious thing
Glory all worth,
New in each spring.

Beauty you are,
Breaking a heart;
Of you I sing,
With my full breath
And spiritual wing.

Flower flower
Fragile and new,
With summer so sweet;
Beauty beyond,
Tenderly treat.

Forever newborn,
When summer shall start;
Crossing my feet
When laid across ground,
In a garden or a street.

poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flower to Flower

I came across one flower
While walking in a garden
It saw me and gave a smile
I too smiled and walked
Each day in garden I smiled

One day I gazed at flower
At its plant and roots closely
I observed its dance in wind
And its dance made me sing
It made me smile all my time

Everyday I went to flower
Smiled with it and came back
My days went like seconds
Nights passed like years
Flower made me its lover

So I wrote songs on its dance
On its lovely beautiful smile
All about its charming beauty
And my state of dying slowly
In which I am smiling daily

One day I saw flower singing
In the garden while jogging
Song reveled its moving off
From my garden to a house
Of loved one from its past

I smiled on all my songs
While writing a new song
Its song of flower to flower
Which I gave to my flower
When departing from my lover

poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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Warned

They stood at the garden gate.
By the lifting of a lid
She might have read her fate
In a little thing he did.

He plucked a beautiful flower,
Tore it away from its place
On the side of the blooming bower,
And held it against his face.

Drank in its beauty and bloom,
In the midst of his idle talk;
Then cast it down to the gloom
And dust of the garden walk.

Ay, trod it under his foot,
As it lay in his pathway there;
Then spurned it away with his boot,
Because it had ceased to be fair.

Ah! the maiden might have read
The doom of her young life then;
But she looked in his eyes instead,
And thought him the king of men.

She looked in his eyes and blushed,
She hid in his strong arms' fold;
And the tale of the flower, crushed
And spurned, was once more told.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Come Back As A Flower

The starngest thought came to me on this morning
As I awake to greet the coming dawn
The sun was hardly peaking through the garden
It felt that with everything I was one
Then I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
The dew had finished making love to many
A rainbow smelling sweet was in the air
I envied all the silence I saw growing
So unmoved by things outside themselves
Then how I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
Oh as a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
(background)
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
Sweetness of love

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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April Flower

Bloom for me,
My April flower.
Show your beauty,
I'll take a gander.

The wind scatters your scent
Giving me the feeling of heaven.
You're the perfection i've dreamt,
The one that i've chosen.

Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
And let me see,
Your petals that matches no other.

I know you're not mine
And you did not grew for me
I can only see you again this time
Unable to resist fate's cruelty.

Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
Though we're not destined to be,
Stay in my heart and take shelter.

In my heart, you will not wilt,
You will eternally bloom..
Even if i am burdened by this guilt,
and love is my certained doom.

Bloom for me for the last time,
At least i can call this moment mine
Ignore my reasons that doesn't rhyme,
Show me your beauty that i can't define.

Bloom..for all eternity..April Flower.

poem by John Paul Ang
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In The Love Garden

In the garden where Love

Could be found

I found a beautiful Princess

Whose Love I share.

Inside the garden where Roses

Could be found

I found a mighty Angel

Whose Love is mine

Within the garden where Love

Could be found

I found a white Flower

Whose beauty is that of a bride

Between the garden where Love

Could be found

I found a mighty princess Diana

Whose heart I share

Underneath the garden where Love

Could be found

I found a charming Diamond

Whose charm is that of my Love

And

Outside the garden where Love

Could be found

I found me a Lover

Whose heart is mine!

And

Inside the garden where Love

Could be found

I found me a pen

And write this lovely ballad for my babe!

poem by Olawale Idowu
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My Lovely Flower

I thank God for my lovely flower
For there are millions who are ignorant of her existance,
The enchanting aroma that is with her,
Or her charm that makes me to always keep thinking,
I am fascinated that she was wonderfully made,
Then just kept for me to find one day.

Seeing her is like waking up at dawn to bath in the Sun's rays
She has harmless attraction like a colorful butterfly,
Or a bright flower always sort by the bees for it's beauty,
Not forgetting it's sweet nectar also!
That is my sweet Sweetie.

The flower is far from me and I cannot smell the aroma now,
Last night I went to dreamland where I hoped to find my flower Then I woke up this morning to melodious sounds,
Sounds of chirping birds in the nearby tree as if to praise her,
Thinking about my flower.

I want to tend and care for this flower,
So that she may produce more flowers like herself,
O flower! Remain that lovely forever.

poem by Nyota Yasulwe
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The wedding of Venus

The wedding of Venus

This morning when I passed by
Rare flower caught my eyes
Who with a welcoming smile
In the garden among the others-
grasses, trees, and the other flowers
I stayed for a moment
Enjoying her fragrance
And into my heart carry it for a while,
But someone arrived
Took away the wonderful time
In his hands the flower whose’
Beauty is beyond to compare.
He took the flower
And to the altar he offered her
He made a vow- a promise
forever he will take care of her
forever they will stay together.

poem by Jordan Legaspi
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The Falling Flowers

In the beginning I saw your smile…the unwithering flower…
I was dancing onside of thousand blooming flowers…
The bud’s fragrance was overwhelming silently.
That moment, I felt it in the town of wind with calm breeze.
Every tear and smile has a beginning and ending.
This time, my unwithering flower is falling down onto my tainted road…
The song of storm and fire take away all of my unwithering flowers.
The fragrance, the flower’s colours…everything is melt vastly.
Inside the locked remorse, I find a falling flower.
Inside the cold guiltiness, I start dancing and plant the flower.
This falling flower, I plant it…on the empty soil named despair.
This falling flower, I water it…with my tears named blood.

poem by Mizushi Hikari
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In The Flower Garden

In the flower garden
The flowers are pink and white
The sky is blue
And it drags along the clouds of white

Friends of mine are waiting for me
Friends of mine are waiting to give me information
and advice

After receiving careful words from my friends
I continue on my way through the flower garden

In the flower garden
I spy my animal friends
A lizard and a bee
Both willing to help me
Either by running along the ground
Flying in the air
Or climbing a tree
Both are willing to help me get to safety
Both are willing to help me to survive
With all the obstacles, snakes, and evil seeds
around

After besting all the enemies
My animal friends and I reach the end of the
flower garden
They've done their job
And for that I'm grateful

I wish my animal friends well
Offering them a warm goodbye
As they make their way back to the flower garden
And leave me to continue on my adventure

poem by Justin Gildow
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The Flower Shop

Because I have no garden and
No pence to buy,
Before the flower shop I stand
And sigh.
The beauty of the Springtide spills
In glowing posies
Of voilets and daffodils
And roses.

And as I see that joy of bloom,
Sad sighing,
I think of Mother in her room,
Lone lying.
She babbles of the garden fair
Her childhood knew,
And how she gathered roses there
In joyous dew.

I shiver in the street so grey,
Yet still I stop;
In gutter grime it seems so gay,
This flower shop . . .
"Oh Mister, could you spare one rose?"
(There now, I'm crying),
"For Mother,--every blossom knows
--Is dying."

poem by Robert William Service
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