A Flower To Auroville Mother-23
Bougainvillea, Great Bougainvillea (Bougainvillea glabra, Bougainvillea spectabilis)
Too foreign, farther, may be empyrean
Dropped strewn an origami streetwise
Scandent on walls treeing with extra-mien
Watchful vigilant bracted with catchy colours
A godly-make papery easy to flee apart
Yet to root a scarecrow of thorny spines..
She's Bougainvillea, a stout sentinel stalwart
Inodorous fauna-peril, perinnial guard of pet-designs
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
Bougainvillea
Bougainvillea, sing your song
For my lover, for my love
I need
Sweet Bougainvillea
Let her wear your flowers in her hair
You will always be
Always be our love song
She was so afraid
To give her heart away
Now before she even knows
I hold her close to me
Sweet Bougainvillea
Let her know, shes me*
* also could be "Let her know, she's free"
submit thoughts on this
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Bougainvillea
Let it crawl and grow
Things that nature sow
Bright red and blue
Just might be right for you
My Bougainvillea petals blossoming lovely red
Its crawling veins clutching the neighbor's wall without being said
The flowery petal didn’t seem to be in pain
Even though cold winter morning sunlight nothing much to gain
How could I have allowed my flowery plant on my neighbors wall to grow
Well I just hoped Mrs. Basket might just enjoy the sprouting flower show
Let it crawl and grow
Things that nature sow
Bright red and blue
Just might be right for you
But alas my bougainvillea I was terrible wrong
With my views had grown to strong
Said Mrs. Basket-Hello bougainvillea you sure are lovely bright red and blue
But I really am sorry this wall is just not for you
Without a wall for my bougainvillea to grow and lean on too
Her beautiful red petals shrank like a once majestic lion, now caged in a zoo
So I have made up my mind to go over to Mrs Baskets one fine day
And plead to allow the bougainvillea to grow over her wall this summer month of May
So I hope to say to Mrs Basket
Let it crawl and grow
Things that nature sow
Bright red and blue
Just might be right for you
poem by Tashi Dorji
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Swan Song
The toppled gravestones,
I still count the heads.
I will go with your swan song,
the bond erupts.
You were always sitting under the
bougainvillea, waiting for the swallow.
The next door summer arrives;
Why did you say, it was biting cold?
The door shuts on the moon.
It was obviously very dark,
and I was searching the space
between ’yes’ and ‘no’.
poem by Satish Verma
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Natural tints and shades! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
I plucked some flowers
Of Frangipani and bougainvillea
From the garden,
And a few variegated leaves
Of delicate caladium
And syngonium;
Excited took them to
The guy who dyes
My chiffon saris and tops.
Can you mix these tints
And shades?
Mam, he said
I humbly admit,
I can’t make any promise
These are God made.
I use vegetable
And flower dyes.
A little hesitant
He added after a while,
I must try with
The deft hands
And imagination
He blessed me with…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Blood Tears (a pantoum)
The bougainvillea weeps petals on the street,
cobblestones are red with tears.
Much care is needed treading cobblestones
more now that I may murder tears.
Cobblestones are red with tears:
I know not where to put my foot,
more now that I may murder tears.
Would the weeper feel pain?
I know not where to put my foot
for fear of stepping on the petals.
Would the weeper feel pain
were I to crush just one?
For fear of stepping on the petals
I walk home the long way round.
Were I to crush just one,
my heart would weep red too.
I walk home the long way round-
if I crush this crimson carpet
my heart would weep red too,
fallen flowers' blood my own.
If I crush this crimson carpet
much care is needed treading cobbles.
Fallen flowers' blood my own,
the bougainvillea weeps petals on the street.
A View In Town Square
four blue chairs surround
a center table
at the center table
lies the red cloth
there are no diners
this time of the day
on the blue frames of
the glass window
where the white curtains
hang & flow like silky water
the lush of the red
bougainvillea is a wreath
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Calendar
Writing on my sleeves,
I visualize an invisible coupling
of grassroots with starless sky,
when I walk on the wailing earth.
Hails big as sparrow eggs
smash the bougainvillea blossoms.
The wrestling clouds
begin a storm.
Witchcraft of the moon begins.
The pubic curve of a rock
holds a centipede
wriggling, gnawing.
A spider climbs the weatherbeaten
cheekbone
and indulges in navel-gazing.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Coast
A family of musicians took shelter for the night
In the little harbor church of st. cecilia
Two guitars, bata, bass drum and tambourine
Rose of jericho and bougainvillea
This is a lonely life
Sorrows everywhere you turn
And thats worth something
When you think about it
Thats worth some money
Thats worth something
When you think about it
That is worth some money
A trip to the market
A trip into the pearl gray morning sunlight
That settles over washington
A trip to the market
A trip around the world
Where the evening meal
Is negotiable, if there is one.
This is a lonely-lone, lonely life
Sorrows everywhere you turn
And thats worth something
When you think about it
Thats worth some money
Thats worth something
When you think about it
That is worth some money
To prove that I love you
Because I believe in you
Summer skies, stars are falling
All along the injured coast
If I have money
If I have children
Summer skies, stars are falling
All along the injured coast
Oo-wah oo-wah doo-wop a doo-wah
Summer skies and stars are falling
All along the injured coast
Oo-wah oo-wah doo-wop a doo-wah
Summer skies and the stars are falling
All along the injured coast
We are standing in the sunlight
The early morning sunlight
In the harbor church of st. cecilia
To praise a souls returning to the earth
To the rose of jericho and the bougainvillea
To prove that I love you
Because I believe in you
Summer skies, stars are falling
All along the injured coast
If I have money
If I have children
Summer skies, stars are falling
All along the injured coast
If I have weaknesses
Dont let them blind me now
Summer skies, stars are falling
All along the injured coast
Oo-wah oo-wah
Doo wop a doo wah
Summer skies, stars are falling
Leaving the shadow of the valley behind me now
All along the injured coast
Ooh-wah oow-wah
Doo wop a doo wah
Summer skies and stars are falling
All along the injured coast
Ooh-wah ooh-wah
Doo wop a doo wah
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart Unsnaps
You gave me a name without asking.
History of my pain
did not need any label.
I recalled only
the blooms of bougainvillea,
not the heat which gave them color.
My burned lips
remembered only the dew
and rear view of life.
The total otherness of the moon and stars
did not heal the scars.
My perceptions had
given me hot tears.
How the distance between us
created the schizophrenia?
The familiar laughs
have frozen after all!
In the middle of night I lie awake
to count the door
and the closed windows.
I listen to the moaning of walls.
My eyes remained half-closed in freckled sleep.
Heart blinks, unsnaps
and weaves a moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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Gardener
I am in love with my womb
& jealous of it.
I cover it tenderly
with a little pink hat
(a sort of yarmulke)
to protect it from men.
Then I listen for the gentle ping
of the ovary:
a sort of cupid's bow
released.
I'm proud of that.
& the spot of blood
in the little hat
& the egg so small
I cannot see it
though I pray to it.
I imagine the inside
of my womb to be
the color of poppies
& bougainvillea
(though I've never seen it).
But I fear the barnacle
which might latch on
& not let go
& fear the monster
who might grow
to bite the flowers
& make them swell & bleed.
So I keep my womb empty
& full of possibility.
Each month
The blood sheets down
like good red rain.
I am the gardener.
Nothing grows without me.
poem by Erica Jong
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An October Morning
Here, in October, scores of dragonflies
Fly about like miniature airplanes
Speckled butterflies collide with them
Floating in the air like catamarans
The morning slowly dries wet clothes,
Dripping, they smell of blue detergent
The house there wakes up bleary-eyed
Hesitating shadows emerge from the walls
A varnished gate, the midget of a woman
On the concrete bench, in the garden
Measuring the length of her shadow
A riot of bougainvillea bursts on the rock
Like a Chinese vase with fresh geraniums
Fresh coffee drip-drops in the percolator
Filling the air with delicious aroma
Amid all the blood and gore of newsprint
Soon you drift into a crimson forgetfulness.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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Bougainvilleas! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
After summer solstice,
We earnestly pray for rain
In north Indian plains,
Drained after a long unforgiving summer.
Gulp down lemonade
Or a drink made of khus, almonds and melon seeds
Or juice of roasted raw mangoes, sweetened
And spiced with crushed cumin
Black salt and fresh mint leaves.
I glance at the sky
From my balcony
Eyebrows knitted,
And sigh in dismay
As I watch clouds gather
Tease and leave.
I can smell rain in
Some far off hills,
As wind carries
Wet earth’s fragrance.
My eyes rest on woody bougainvillea;
Vines scramble over boundary walls
And fence lines of neighbourhood villas
In colours as varied as a child’s first
Box of water paints.
As I take a swig from
My bottle of Kinley,
Am filled with wonder,
How they remain so buoyant
All day and by night,
Despite no respite
From drought and heat.
While the Sun furiously beats
Down on earth’s cracked crust?
But mother nurtures the roots,
Who knows how she replenishes itself…?
The thorny vine knows not sloth,
And withstands the fiery wrath
And burst forth in blossoms,
Full of spirit
Just enjoying being.
Oft I wonder, some flowers
Are fragrant, others a’int.
See what a plethora
Of colour, size and aura!
How amazing, they parlance
In complete silence.
Captivated, I just forgot
I was feeling hot.
.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Her Letter Dated July 1,2008, To Me, It Is Poem By Itself
I wonder how many more poems related to me I've missed.
I also wonder if you're a mind-reader.
Every springtime when the cherries bloom,
I do think of fire trees dotting Mt. Makiling
and lining the highways of Los Banos.
When wisterias bloom here,
I think of the jade vine in Makiling forest.
The pink, red and white flowers of azalea are pretty when they bloom in April to May,
but they can't compare with the explosion of colors of bougainvillea flowers trailing over the terraces of the buildings of IRRI where I used to work years ago.
I wonder if they are still there.
I did ask my father to plant ylang-ylang or sampaguita years ago,
because in Dipolog,
I can hardly find them anymore.
But father preferred palm trees, orchids, and anthurium.
Yes, I'll always miss the land of my birth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Awaiting June~~~
The mourning doves run rife through the Mimosa
While a deluge of California sun beats down
Everywhere is getting acquainted with somewhere
While the bougainvillea leave their fingerprints all around;
Messengers are still a little invisible-
As many a blind eye might attest--
Windows of Springtime sunsets prevail
Surviving the mountains out west;
The in between of the seasons is nearing...
Awaiting in the trails- is the sizzling of June-
Bathing itself in warmth, a bit early, is May
Impatient for that perfect Summer Moon;
So here's to the Seasons of flowers and the shore
The woodlands and mountains so high
Spectators to the greenhouses of seasons & mighty sea
Welcoming all with a most longing sigh;
Two seasons dancing together...
Near to the riverbanks are the Pheasant and Quail
Past experience has truly taught us
That Sun and Blue Sky oft' times prevail;
By: Theodora Onken
May 15,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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Nature/Diversity Without Dividing
Do you see how lovely and diverse nature is? Nature, as the great beauty she is in this photo, of a beautiful Bougainvillea flowered, potted plant and the love affair between the blooms and the delightful dance of the butterfly, seem to live in perfect harmony and love for one another.
They are different in species, yes, but harmonize in nature to provide a loving, ever-lasting love affair to propagate nature’s continued beauty. They are inherently diverse in nature yet strive to work together to benefit all who enjoy.
This is a beautiful statement actually to “embrace a benevolent spirit and heart for diversity yet without the complexities of trying to divide and conquer as humankind sometimes tends to do.” Why must we do that?
Can we not all live in harmony, love and peace? Imagine this, “diversity without dividing.” What a beautiful concept. Allow us to live in a diverse setting without contesting every move someone makes. Let us live as one.
poem by John Evans
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The Sound Of Bye Bye
i feel at the last moment
the weirdness of the situation
time hangs itself
but you never smell the stinking dead hour
you see, i never had that snorkeling
it was too cold
the see blurs the fish
the rain comes heavily
and so i simply sit the whole day
on one of those rattan chairs facing the blue pool of water
beside the purple bougainvillea tree
i can't say i am sad
perhaps i am just too sleepy to remember anything
or perhaps i fall upon a chasm of the hours
and so i never remember the pain
the hours pass gently
it is already five in the afternoon
the boat arrives and
i am taken back
to the place where i do not belong
i keep on moving for motion's sake
no agenda, no place of destination
just an itinerary prepared by someone
who thinks that money must be saved
as i willing throw them all away
the boat sails upon a silvery surface
the boat has an eye
it is simply doing what must be done
under these peculiar circumstances
slicing the water
making the sound of bye byes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Is this love?
Fading through the unknown
Winds alighting
From night till morning
Grueling intimacy breaks the silence dawn
That sky on top is the eyes
Secluded for a moment
Of anything whispering
From rag to riches
That’s our love of premiership
Needs to need
Begs to bargain
That’s our crave
No hold barred
How do I love you?
You want the big O
I want it too
Regular or impromptu
Classic or manic
Samson and Delilah
Is history
Love victory
You and me
Is majestic
Reaching
The road to Bougainvillea
Is paradise
Shimmering through the lights
Thrust through ‘the three Gorges dam’
Spilling tons of water
Arresting ourselves
Entangled in the web of love
Doubting each other
Wouldn’t tear us further
But a sign
Of another consign
Unfolds in a dream
Bliss of zest
If only two of us
Left standing on Earth
Don’t stop
Cultivating and harvesting
The seeds
Adam and Eve
Would envy
For, the procreation
Is the prima facie
Our love exists
Ultimately
Inseparable
Like gravity
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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The Highways
The road that these tyres run,
Ends nowhere, straight and long,
The drizzle at the windscreen,
The wipers move fast to clean.
The teak trees on the north south highway,
Grown thicker year by year, bougainvillea,
At the divider dwarfed to bloom as required,
Genetically modified plants, shrubs and flowers.
Push that button to open the window,
The fragrant wind enters and rejuvenates,
The sun hides behind the mountain range,
Sprinkles the free gold dust everywhere.
Looking through the sunshade and sunglass,
The fire ball glows as the thirsty lass,
To tie her beautiful fringe and fire logs,
Curved seven colors of ribbon plot.
Miles of palm plantation have young plants,
Red fruits of palm cluster hang to be cut,
The foreign workers travel in the lorries,
To work in the vegetable farms, snoring,
At the rattling of the engines, have peace,
And hope of having money from this land.
The snakiest roads are straightened,
No more hair pin bends and windings,
Universal sign boards on the highways,
Hidden by the trees that planted.
When we go up the hill,
We can feel the pain in the ears,
When we come to the flat land,
Pain will go and we will be stunned.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Colors to Notice
While on morning walk today,
Thought emerges to describe the color
Of Mumbai sky, but can’t get the correct word:
It is aluminum-like, light gray,
Same wherever on the entire irregular patch
Of sky in Bandra, I am allowed to see through
Hedged in by trees, buildings and roofs.
As the eyes sweep down, the colors
Around me attract: green, blue,
Black, yellow, red BEST bus, the objects reflecting
There is no end to my counting:
In green alone I can see
Seventeen different shades.
Once I start enjoying the difference
Between one green and another
Luxuriant, shiny or dark,
Light-green, or parrot or bluish green
Or green seen against sunlight from below
Or with sunlight falling on the green leaves, -
In between remembering the sea-green incorruptible
Of Carlyle in his French Revolution
Or Lady Macbeth’s seas before becoming
Incarnadined -
Greens stretch unending in mind, and around,
Till suddenly the purple morning glory in front
Mocks me: while the special dark pink, above
Of bougainvillea blushes silently at stupid man
Who shows off his reading to Nature,
And makes up by waving and dancing gently.
Colors of Life and Nature are around me
Anywhere anytime:
I love them, including
Different black shadows in the dark.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-4
Kanakaambaram(Firecracker Flower) (Crossandra infundibuliformis)
Her glory stands out apt to her name
Golden glitter so attired of high fame
Ethnic yellow, orange, pink around whole year
Extra blue, magenta, white special as december
Nature's Origami of a godly craft
Natural splendour albeit a scentless art
Strands sisterly weave on dancing braids
She is long fresh despite her papery petals
poem by Indira Renganathan
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