I Am Carried Away
In the
hallows
of my
mind
you
exist.
A precious
flower
I ponder
your
loveliness.
A breath
of fresh
air.
softly
touching
my lips
Blowing
over me
cooling
A lovely
blossom
full of
promises
Whispering
sweet words
until I
melt into
you.
Finding
solace
in your
presence
I am
carried
away.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Essence Of You
In the
gallery
of my
mind,
I ponder
your
existence.
Such a
gentle
breeze,
on a warm
spring
day.
A fresh
breath
of air,
softly
kissing
my lips.
A lovely
flower,
one in
my bouquet
of life.
full of
promises.
Fulfilling
my every
dream.
with sweet
thoughts,
until I
melt into
your nectar.
poem by Heather Burns
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My Bouquet Of Life (My Coral Rose)
In the
hallows
of my
mind,
I enfold
my coral
rose.
gently
stroking
his brow.
Blowing
over him
a breath
of cool
air,
Protecting
from the
scorching
sun.
Supplying
him with
heavenly
tear-drops
when he is
thirsty.
In the
evening
rock him
im my
cradle of
love.
A precious
blossom
in my
bouquet
of life.
poem by Heather Burns
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Whispering Promises
whispering promises is easy to
do
many times they never come true
the one whispering promises
is not sincere
playing make-believe with your
ear
lots of voices hum a tune
whispering promises forgotten
soon
truth is absent from the start
a game of words played with a
heart
lying tongues have a cruel bite
whispered promises in the night.
poem by Heather Burns
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I Be Or Don't Be (A Song)
I be or don’t be
Would be spreading whiff
As a blossom, As a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don‘t be
Whatever the weather
I always will be there
To keep the orchard fresh
And in colour of desire
Will be watering it ever
As a blossom as a bud
The orchard of love
I be or don’t be
I will unfurl my shirt
And sway in the breeze
Will glow like flower
On the blossom trees
Would spread fragrance
As a blossom as a bud
In the garden of love
I be or don’t be
When I won’t be there
Her eyes with tears
Would be finding me
She would stop in reverie
Where I will meet her
As a blossom, as a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don’t be
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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St. Francis And The Sow
The bud
stands for all things,
even those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
as St. Francis
put his hand on the creased forehead
of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow
began remembering all down her thick length,
from the earthen snout all the way
through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of
the tail,
from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
down through the great broken heart
to the blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering
from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking
and blowing beneath them:
the long, perfect loveliness of sow.
poem by Galway Kinnell
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The Year Is Revived In New Blossoms
The year is revived in new blossoms
with a golden sun in the cobalt sky,
in my life only Your principles bloom;
bright flowers are preparing to carry fruit.
Days are hot, full of promises stretching forward
to a time of fruitfulness, of full maturity,
when suddenly nature works secretively,
when love in my life comes to expression;
the loveliness of flower upon flower is astounding.
When the loveliness of flower upon flower astounds,
there are birds everywhere singing of joy,
the year spins around from winter to summer
when Your blessings pierce the darkness,
life becomes more full of love and perfect
without any type of strange hindrance
when You create living things to Your image
when new life sprouts out after the pruning,
the year is revived in new blossoms.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Baby’s Breath
Sweet baby’s breath
In the garden of love
So beautiful wreath
In a lovely dove.
Sweet baby’s breath
In the heart full of love
Is dancing lass in a meadow –wreath,
The symbol of love of dove.
Sweet baby’s breath
Made to a lovely wreath
In our consensual walk
When we freed the cheerful dove.
Sweet baby’s breath
In the house of love
Source of joy and a precious wreath
In the loving eyes of parent dove.
poem by Jomark Baynado
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To She Who Is Too Light-hearted
Your head, your gesture, your air,
are lovely, like a lovely landscape:
laughter’s alive, in your face,
a fresh breeze in a clear atmosphere.
The dour passer-by you brush past there,
is dazzled by health in flight,
flashing like a brilliant light
from your arms and shoulders.
The resounding colours
with which you sprinkle your dress,
inspire the spirits of poets
with thoughts of dancing flowers.
Those wild clothes are the emblem
of your brightly-hued mind:
madcap by whom I’m terrified,
I hate you, and love you, the same!
Sometimes in a lovely garden
where I trailed my listlessness,
I’ve felt the sunlight sear my breast
like some ironic weapon:
and Spring’s green presence
brought such humiliation
I’ve levied retribution on
a flower, for Nature’s insolence.
So through some night, when the hour
of sensual pleasure sounds,
I’d like to slink, mute coward, bound
for your body’s treasure,
to bruise your sorry breast,
to punish your joyful flesh,
form in your startled side, a fresh
wound’s yawning depth,
and – breath-taking rapture! –
through those lips, new and full
more vivid and more beautiful
infuse my venom, my sister!
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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My beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
i am glad i picked you
poem by Allen Steble
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My Beautiful Love
you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower
you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower
you are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
I am glad I picked you
poem by Chidiebere Franklin
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How Sweet Love Is
To meet her and instantly be in her arms.
Holding her kissing her feeling her presence.
Is passionate romantic stuff Hollywood movies sell on.
Within minutes to be stripping naked
while still holding touching kissing
tripping on magic of precious moments;
finally in your lovers arms after five days absence;
is the great joy of a true compassionate love.
The taste of your lovers lips
the feel of her soft skin
the caressing of her soft golden hair;
as you run your fingers softly through;
the embrace of her warm naked body
all contribute to the magic of this
the first magic moments of our meeting
the eager anticipated heat of our greeting;
our souls and our bodies are ever seeking;
the way back to our partners heat and presence.
Oh our sweet our love is.
Oh our sweet our heat is.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Pink Flower
Pink flower is beautiful
Always so much of anything
Playfully and never dull
As it is inside spring
Tenderly moments to bring on
To every summer night
Until its blossom is gone
With beautiful pinkish bright
Pink flower is like you
With all your loving touch
So much to make and do
If you are in love so much
Nothing is all like this
On to the blue light dark
With new spring dawn bliss
Shades of the petal spark
Fragrances in the air
Full of new summer high
Touching blossom everywhere
In the hours going by
Just like a love to come
When love touches heart
Flowering passion blossom
Now in these days will start
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Life for Death
A newly born flower
Slowly blowing her horn
Fresh grasses all over
Smiling on its thorns
Breeze dancing
Moist climbing
Trunks twisting
Leaves flying
The majestic flower
Now walking through mountains
Of darkest trunks whispering
Of bloody leaves haunting
Passing through the pavement
Blear eyes on strength
Largest trees on coven
Fangs of leaves on vent
Her breath on every fight
Burning with her own light
Searching the truth inclined
The strength behind enemy lines
But they have covered the night
They have killed the knight
Bless the flower tonight
She had made her last sacrifice
Slumber Song
Some day, if I should ever lose you,
will you be able then to go to sleep
without me softly whispering above you
like night air stirring in the linden tree?
Without my waking here and watching
and saying words as tender as eyelids
that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast,
upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?
Without my touching you and leaving you
alone with what is yours, like a summer garden
that is overflowing with masses
of melissa and star-anise?
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Flower of Delight
Enter my flower
love becomes an open door
into my hearts way
Once again I come
drinking in your sweet nectar
flower of delight
Color my dreams blue
enter my lovely flower
in the morning dew.
I melt in nectar
of this beautiful flower
she overwhelmes me.
poem by Heather Burns
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Blossom
Blossom, smile some sunshine down my way
Lately, Ive been lonesome
Blossom, its been much too long a day
Seems my dreams have frozen
Melt my cares away
Send the sunshine down my way whenever you call my name
I know what you mean to say to me, girl, its all the same
Blossom, theres any empty road behind
Sit you down beside me
Blossom, theres a sweet dream on my mind
Theres a song inside me
Take these chains away
Now, send the sunshine down my way whenever you call my name
I know what you mean to say to me, girl, its all the same
Blossom, smile some sunshine down my way
Lately, Ive been lonesome
Blossom, its been much too long a day
Seems my dreams have frozen
Melt my cares away
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A blossom
As it Blooms in silence
I was truly allured
a flower's humble beauty
her future ensured
exceptional glamor I spotted
in this lovely garden of her.
Rain fall softly on her petals
it fell down slowly light as feather
the shimmering and sparkling
of the thick and dripping humid;
condensing in every bud
in this lovely garden of her.
The blurry vision of early dawn fog,
the charming rays of peeking sun,
those silencing sounds of earth
makes most sense of elegance
in this lovely garden of her.
The wind blowing in rhythm
setting free the dancing pecks
the melody of the ambiance,
the sweet smell of honey-nectar,
the aroma of her sincerity
that brings all my joy,
draws every smile in my face
each day of my life
in this lovely garden of her.
Yet there came a time the wind blew hard
Drought came fast and wither starts
little by little her throat seized
grasping her breath she naught fought.
The skies turned black and lights blinks fast
then her crave they overfed to death
overhead came the water dark
'None could ever survive'
They proven wrong...
For the dusk end and the night came
The moon came yet not to help
the tide higher he hath even made..
Alas! Dawn breaks& moon withdraws
The sun came and peek again
in this lovely garden of her...
There the earth witness her wilt
yet new life brought by rain and shine..
a humble blossom in joy and gloom
a story in cycle in this lovely garden of her...
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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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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In The Valley
Said the yellow-haired Spirit of Spring
To the white-footed Spirit of Snow,
“On the wings of the tempest take wing,
And leave me the valleys, and go.”
And, straightway, the streams were unchained,
And the frost-fettered torrents broke free,
And the strength of the winter-wind waned
In the dawn of a light on the sea.
Then a morning-breeze followed and fell,
And the woods were alive and astir
With the pulse of a song in the dell,
And a whisper of day in the fir.
Swift rings of sweet water were rolled
Down the ways where the lily-leaves grew,
And the green, and the white, and the gold,
Were wedded with purple and blue.
But the lips of the flower of the rose
Said, “where is the ending hereof?
Is it sweet with you, life, at the close?
Is it sad to be emptied of love?”
And the voice of the flower of the peach
Was tender and touching in tone,
“When each has been grafted on each,
It is sorrow to live on alone.”
Then the leaves of the flower of the vine
Said, “what will there be in the day
When the reapers are red with my wine,
And the forests are yellow and grey?”
And the tremulous flower of the quince
Made answer, “three seasons ago
My sisters were star-like, but since,
Their graves have been made in the snow.”
Then the whispering flower of the fern
Said, “who will be sad at the death,
When Summer blows over the burn,
With the fierceness of fire in her breath?”
And the mouth of the flower of the sedge
Was opened to murmur and sigh,
“Sweet wind-breaths that pause at the edge
Of the nightfall, and falter, and die.”
poem by Henry Kendall
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Melt Your Heart, Lord
In your presence
I can feel your comfort
I know that when i come to you in prayer
You'll listen to my pleas
Touching me in the stillness of the night
Melt your heart Lord
When people are at their lowest point
When children cry because their parents are gone
When sickness comes in the night
And they have nobody to turn to but you
Just melt your heart, Lord
When nobody cares for the old and lonely
To their anguish and pain
Hungry and dying in misery
Leaving a memory of yesterday's glory
Melt your heart, Lord
For the mothers out there
Longing for the return of their wayward children
Hooked in drugs, swayed by sweet tongues
To come back into their loving embrace
And my heart spills with your wonder
Because i know that you are always there
The very center of your warm and passionate heart
Has melted and comforted me
Your presence have envelop me once again
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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