My Yellow Rose
I melt in the nectar
of this lovely flower
dainty and yellow.
poem by Heather Burns
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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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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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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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Lone Yellow Flower Waves In The Open Fields
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green;
lone yellow flower has no one to blame
and it seeks none to praise
for it knows all life comes in
when the conditions are right;
lone yellow flower knows
death comes in like the wind;
lone yellow flower
is never alone
for it is a part of the expression
of the earth and time and the universe;
lone yellow flower sees what is before and around
lone yellow flower observes what is within and about
and so lone yellow flower lives with no delusions
no beliefs of heaven and hell
fears none and does not live or die
to please or amuse or appease;
and lone yellow flower
blossoms and shines
and shrivels and ceases
in harmony
with what actually is;
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green
poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Spanish Needle
Lovely dainty Spanish needle
With your yellow flower and white,
Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,
Do you think of me to-night?
Shadowed by the spreading mango,
Nodding o'er the rippling stream,
Tell me, dear plant of my childhood,
Do you of the exile dream?
Do you see me by the brook's side
Catching crayfish 'neath the stone,
As you did the day you whispered:
Leave the harmless dears alone?
Do you see me in the meadow
Coming from the woodland spring
With a bamboo on my shoulder
And a pail slung from a string?
Do you see me all expectant
Lying in an orange grove,
While the swee-swees sing above me,
Waiting for my elf-eyed love?
Lovely dainty Spanish needle,
Source to me of sweet delight,
In your far-off sunny southland
Do you dream of me to-night?
poem by Claude McKay
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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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Glimpse
the flower may curse
the caterpillar at first glance
consuming its leaves
greedily
rushing for the next stage
of its life
then the silence of the cocoon
where the flower
doubts
and then the excitement
of the birth
of the yellow butterfly
the hope of the flower
and when
the flying begins
the flower unfolds
blooms
and the consortium begins
the nectar flows
and the flower
turns into another fruit
back
to its seed form
as the butterfly
nears its span
like a glimpse
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Little Cycle Of The Flower And The Caterpillar
the flower may curse
the caterpillar at first glance
consuming its leaves
greedily
rushing for the next stage
of its life
then the silence of the cocoon
where the flower
doubts
and then the excitement
of the birth
of the yellow butterfly
the hope of the flower
and when
the flying begins
the flower unfolds
blooms
and the consortium begins
the nectar flows
and the flower
turns into another fruit
back
to its seed form
as the butterfly
nears its span
like a glimpse
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: A Poet’s Dream
I dreamt I turn’d into a rose flower,
That’d fully blossomed, looking so lovely!
Because I wished to be a bee-lover,
One morn as dawn came on very stealth’ly.
I was a rose, red-petaled and much pretty,
Emitting fragrance really very sweet!
My lover-bee buzz’d on to me happily,
Hovering around, with his rhythmic wing-beat.
“Good morning sweetheart! ” it said and kissed me.
“I’ve flown for miles, seeking your divine face, ”
“O spare me some nectar for I’m thirsty,
And some more nectar for my kids, in case.”
“O bee-lover! All my nectar’s for thee;
Only promise to always visit me! ”
poem by John Celes
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A Perfect Landing
A gaily painted butterfly hovers over
A dainty flower, as a miniature helicopter
Patiently waiting for a landing signal,
The flower welcomes the timely arrival
And guides it to its destination,
As there is no traffic congestion
It makes a perfect landing with precision,
Without any accident or collision,
The butterfly deposits its cargo
Noiselessly moving to and fro,
Flower offers nectar to the visitor
Later it takes off with a flutter.
Spellbound I watch this in silence
And my senses revel in the image.
Have I ever seen, I wonder
Two butterflies on the same flower?
A mystery novel may grip the mind of a reader
Can it surpass the thrill of reading the book of nature?
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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In Back of the Real
railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
and sat on a bench
near the switchman's shack.
A flower lay on the hay on
the asphalt highway
--the dread hay flower
I thought--It had a
brittle black stem and
corolla of yellowish dirty
spikes like Jesus' inchlong
crown, and a soiled
dry center cotton tuft
like a used shaving brush
that's been lying under
the garage for a year.
Yellow, yellow flower, and
flower of industry,
tough spiky ugly flower,
flower nonetheless,
with the form of the great yellow
Rose in your brain!
This is the flower of the World.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Born to blossom
A girl is born to blossom and conceive
And is set to lure every boy with her waves,
For which she is endowed with some features
As every flower blossoms with some fortunes.
May be she is a lotus, well cut in contour,
Or a rose, fair and lovely to encounter,
Or an oleander with flavour in her manner.
Some are born like lily, white and bright,
Or like a wild flower, full of talents,
Or one in a bunch, known for her clan,
And in the case of a diminutive one,
It’s a flower with colourful brackets.
When she is none of the above
Comes to her rescues her youth in glow
As comes to any flower the nectar in flow.
Each one has some features
to serve its race a purpose.
06.08.96
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Humming-Bird And A Butterfly
Once upon a time...
On a lovely spring afternoon
a butterfly was flying in the garden
She landed on a flower,
And left its nectar.
A humming bird
was attracted by its smell
and fed itself with it.
In all the afternoons of that sping,
the butterfly flew,
Spreading her wings between the flowers
Leaving its nectar on them.
The humming-bird was enchanted,
And he drank it in all the flowers,
Because he fell in love with her.
poem by Lindemberg Pereira da Silva
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Little White Dainty Daisy Opening Upon Such An Early Morning
little white dainty daisy
too fragile to believe that this
mighty bee
loves her
too young a bud
to open upon an early morning
the hairy bee rushes to take
everything from
dainty daisy
all her nectar
the might and force of the sucking and the sting
are too much
for her taking
upon the ground lies
the purest of all petals
when the sun & winds & clouds finally come
oh, there is so much weeping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Into it all the same.
At a distance, a flower is noted by its colour.
Once into it, the purpose of the colour is over.
Only the nectar of the flower matters.
Pleasure is drawn in churning to honey the nectar.
A wise man makes variety from his clay
rather than buying varying makes.
23.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Dracula Flower
The flower was stretching
It's hand to find a honey-bee
To be embraced and kissed!
The flower remained
In meditation to invoke God
To sent her groom
As she bore the nectar
To be sucked and emptied
By the trunk of a honey-bee
The long hairy hands
Of the flower frightened
The butterflies move wantonly
The caterpillars jumping
In quest to quench the thirst!
As the flower in penance
Heard the humming
Of a honey-bee unseen
She opened her eyes
In search to up and sides
And she was enthused
To see the blue-black
Groom of her from heaven
With wings shivering
As if in a whirl wind
Moving to her lips
To kiss and empty her!
The flower leaped her hand
To embrace the honey-bee
Whose nail ladden legs
Did wand her hands
Yet she never let loose
Her embrace to get-him close
To her breast stored with honey.
The honey-bee sucking nectar
From the lips of the flower
Never see him trapped
In the tangle of figments.
He struggled and jerked
But the flower sucked
The honey-bee's life
In return to her nectar he sucked
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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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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Butterfly Flutterby
The butterfly was young
Her vibrant wings of delicate lace
Such grace such poise
A hcarming butterfly
The cricket was slick thicket
Moving quick but swift
Yet smart somewhat wise
Proud of his chirp
Hopping through the grass
Butterfly fluttered by till upon a rose
Spreading her wings a dainty show
Slowly sipping sweet
Hopping skipping
Cricket saw
Butterfly glanced
The cricket saw butterfly
The butterfly looked yonder
Cricket hopped and chirped
A jumpety crickety song
Butterfly sighed
And rolled her eyes
Cricket hopped closer
Butterfly laughed
Silly cricket trying hard
Butterfly cared less
Poor cricket hopped and hopped
Butterfly sipping nectar sweet
Cricket sang sonfter sweeter
Butterfly stopped
A song so sweet
Too lovely than nectar
Cricket hopped upon a rose
Butterfly jumped
Almost to fly away
Cricket song too lovely to fly away
Butterfly in a trance
Fluttering her wings lovely
Too charming
Too tempting
Crickect sang
Butterfly in a spell
Too late to break
Lovers forever
Strange couple though
Yet lovely
Yet happy
Suave cricket, Princess Butterfly
Flutterby, flutterby.......
poem by Bella Ravenstar
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My Flower
Enter my sweet one
love becomes an open
door
my heart awaits you.
Once again I come
to drink of your sweet
nectar
flower of my heart.
A lovely red rose
holding fast to a
trellis
never letting go.
While my love remains
you are my flower of
love
passion of my life.
I long to hold you
carress you so gently
touch your handsome
face.
poem by Heather Burns
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Nectar Sweet
My humming bird heart
beats for you
faster still with you in sight;
but you my flower
elude me.
I flutter
mid-air in flight
above other flowers
but no nectar drips from my beak's visit;
no matter how far I plunge
toward some flower's-center
it's not yours, and I retreat.
I pause,
flutter away
without that sweet juice of yours
I crave.
Possessing it is my Obsessions' Obsession.
Nothing deters my eye
from my flower-mission;
neither cat
nor rival bird
challenge me
when they espy my determined ire,
as I put my sharpened beak on display,
exhibiting to them my humming bird speed
and my reckless need.
No, they shrink
away
with second thoughts
and leave me to my nectar quest.
Some flowers are beautiful,
but none so beautiful as yours;
this is set in me for all time-
even if I,
nectarless,
become weak and falter-
no longer able to fly
and plunge spiraling to the ground;
I will have you my sweet
or no nectar at all.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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