A Flower To Auroville Mother-44
Hydrangea(Mophead hydrangea,
Hydrangea macrophylla)
Moplike they opine
So called as Mophead
Mopping what so fine
The space around?
The dirt grime, brine
From the ground?
O'bunchy bunchy
Bright Hydrangea
Spreading shrubby
A pink-blue arena
Huge in balls peachy
Doubtless a ballerina
And dark and green
Leaves serrated
Corroded to mean
Salty tears mopped
Your face pristine
When once watched
Moplike they opine
So called as Mophead
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
Joyous Spring Colors
Spring always starts with a little yellow
As dandelions pop out their heads
Then we see daffodils’ smiling faces
They don’t even need flower beds
We enjoy blossoms along the streets
Some are pink and some are white
After a long dreary winter, folks
They are such a welcome sight
Azaleas and Rhododendrons galore
Burst forth with many colors
Every size you can imagine as well
And flourish like no others
Let’s not forget the Hydrangea
Dressed in blue, pink or white
Huge balls of blossoms they are
And just fills us with delight
I would enjoy them all year long
If only I had my druthers
But since I don’t have a choice
I treasure joyous spring colors!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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In Profusion
In bloom, the Rose of Sharon, with its honey yellow hue,
Along with the graceful Jasmine, Clematis and Lilac too.
Followed by the Buddleia, that the butterflies so love,
Sedum, Quince and Penstemon, and the tall Foxglove.
With Crocosmia of orange and lime green Hosta bright,
London Pride, Pansy, Primula, what joy they all invite.
Geraniums in profusion, charm the glancing eye,
And standing proud, as if on guard, the grand gladioli.
Lily of the Valley with dainty bell shapes, white,
Japanese Anemones that close their heads at night.
Lavender and Fuchsia plus Hydrangea pink and blue,
All these lovely flowers grow in my backyard venue.
Pleasure is in the looking and seeing such a show,
A palate of such beauty, like the sweep of a rainbow,
Nature in all its excellence, dresses this vibrant scene.
In one small English garden these genre thus convene.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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whose name I don't know
.... whose name I don't know
Whom I opine of a damsel divine
Of Aurora's orangy pink and yellow
Of her heart in velvetty circles
Stocking cosmic pleasance
Biggie bigger blossoming
On par with the sunshine-morn...
....Whose name I don't know
Whom I opine of a damsel divine
Enchanting to endear and love
Albeit prickling caution beware
who weakened to perish sudden apart
For whom my teardrops flooding
For whom my soul swimming across...
....Whose name I don't know
Whom I opine of a damsel divine
Who endorsed her charm in my heart
A damsel divine as I opine
A ceaseless hunt wanting her back
Anyone, know who she is, who she is? ..
Anybody, know who she i, who she is? ..
Written in memory of a hybrid Rose
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Tamara The Sequel
The dried leaves cripple, lifeless,
Stomped underneath his restless feet
Open the path to the falling waters
Visible through naked eyes,
So arrogant
Spread its wings, like Garuda
Tons of sounds, fall into
The river, where Tamara unleashes her voluptuous
Flesh, for the Sun to glimpse with a smile
Her mountainous breasts, tremor
Whenever it touch the cold water
Breathlessness has captured the Prince
Amid the brisk walk he endures
To find the fortress that seals thousands
Of secrets, concealing her well kept beauty
He looks up to the blue sky
Whispers to scores of Hummingbirds
“Hey buddies, lead me to the Princess,
And I’ll make you, a Kingdom”
The Hummingbirds unhesitant
Lead him to the Hanging Garden of Babylon
Like walking into a dream that never ends
Pink Primrose, Mountain Laurel, Hellebores,
Hydrangea, Persimmon and Glory Lily
Her smell is like those flowers
The Hummingbirds sing to him
“Tamara wants you to scratch her back,
Scratch her back, scratch her back,
And she’ll scratch yours”
With laughter that drums up
His heart beat, Prince Charming
Runs his way through the enchanting waters
Naked, he kisses Princess Tamara, who is
Forever more, wants to die in his arms
Heavy tears, dropp from the sky above
Flooding the two souls, vanish
Into ecstasy,
A lifetime gift
They are the priceless gems
Almandine Garnet, Chrome Tourmaline,
Larimar, Peridot, Rhodochrosite
They are those gems
Morning dews sizzle, panoramically
As the couple, dance
In the bed of Roses
Where sigh and moan
Attunes, without hindrance
Their breaths perspire profusely
Legs tremble like tambourine
The bed reads maximum Richter scale
They say love is a many splendid things
They are history
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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St. Ann, Has Called Me Back
Upon my return
To an old torn and tattered grade school
With drab brown floor tiles
As worn as a dinosaurs bones
I stumbled into the custodians closet
The dusty, dirty mophead
Hung there, still
From five years gone by
Expeditiously, I rustled on a new head
Inserting a new handle, into action
My goal, a glossy sheen and satisfaction
Soaking the head, with fresh wax
I slipped and slithered a few new coats
On the old floor
Through all the cracks
A once depleted hall
Returned to glory
The students, need not worry
Cleanliness has returned
To a lady saints house
Quiet as a mouse
poem by Matt Mondschein
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A Visit To Bryant Park-Kodaikanal
Waiting to tribute the nominal pay
Queuing gate-way was lined up in awe
That excited hearts eliciting Heaven all around
And I could hear in hushing chimes the angelic voices
From inside prattling in ambrosial tones
That in effect I was stunned entering into that Park
So as to tell you now, it was all rainbow-blots
Blossoming broad and wide in wonder wonderful
That my heart got to be tattooed on a sudden gusto
Over an area of 20.5 acres in luxuriant lushness
That you join me to surmise a divine mischief
Of the celestial chits blotting the rainbow-hues
Then throwing down on there kidlike all kids
Next to clear them in fear of the earthly sentry
Descended but to only flee in sheer urgency
But on an intuitive impulse Mr.H.D.Bryant sensed
And his discernment in hasty anxiety did it all
In hurried grouping pristine of rainbow shades
Whence bloomed a heavenly flora in vast richness
That my eccenticity rolled on them in secet vision
My oddity hugged and kissed and jostled in secret soul
Just to befriend that bewitching scenario of flowers
A garland of floral friends my heart to adorn ever
Pricesses of the queen of hills heavenly heightened..
They my friendly florescence of exotic hybrids and orchids
Elderly pals of trees years and years high and old
When atlast put me into trance under a 'Bodhi'(Birch) tree
I floated under the azury shade of the welkin sky
In captured moment yelled out thanking one by one
O'Fuchsia, O'Aster, O'Crinum Lily, O'Petunia, O'Viola
O'Begnoia, O'Cosmos, O'Dahlia, O'Haemanthus, O'Hydrangea...
Exceeding three hundred and odd they in response voiced,
Even now and ever in welcome 'yes Indira..yes Indira..yes Indira'..
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Red Dirt Life
I went for a ride the other day
Sun shown bright as could be
Shining right on the red dirt road
There is nothing more cheerful to me
Past the red dirt farmhouses
Down the valley so red
A smile was on my face
For I knew what was ahead
The green trees stood out starkly
With the wonderful red color
Huge red rock and plateau’s
Nothing like any other
It was a ride that I take often
For I have a great red dirt time
Perhaps you too would enjoy
A red dirt life like mine!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Wild Pink Roses
There laying hidden against a late summer hue
With green trees shutting out most of their view
Yon can feel the color of wild roses where they lie
As if they were following with a pentrating pink eye
There roots grow in red dirt which is always bright
There leaves become small beacons of a green light
Their feelings can be felt from your head to your toes
There's nothing more beautiful than a wild pink rose
poem by John McCornack
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-20
Mullai(Jasminum Auriculatum, Jasminum Molle)
I opine you of my mother dear Molle
For you're charateristic to allay
The bothered unabated heart's assay
In clover bushy scenting it, hurray
I opine you of my sister Molle dear
Pruned to bloom abundant here near
Scandent in trifoliated support higher
Pruning me to blossom brighter ever
I opine you of my daughter dear Molle
Healing cooling against summer's play
To gods and goddesses in needy display
Stellar Mullai seated in my heart's inlay
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Bitter Green
Upon the bitter green she walked the hills above the town
Echo to her footsteps as soft as eider down
Waiting for her master to kiss away her tears
Waiting through the years
Bitter green they called her
Walking in the sun
Loving everyone that she met
Bitter green they called her
Waiting in the sun
Waiting for someone to take her home
Some say he was a sailor who died away at sea
Some say he was a prisoner who never was set free
Lost upon the ocean he died there in the mist
Dreaming of her kiss
Bitter green they called her
Walking in the sun
Loving everyone that she met
Bitter green they called her
Waiting in the sun
Waiting for someone to take her home
But now the bitter green is gone, the hills have turned to rust
There comes a weary stranger, his tears fall in the dust
Kneeling by the churchyard in the autumn mist
Dreaming of a kiss
Bitter green they called her
Walking in the sun
Loving everyone that she met
Bitter green they called her
Waiting in the sun
Waiting for someone to take her home
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thieves Like Us
Ive watched your face for a long time
Its always the same
Ive studied the cracks and the wrinkles
You were always so vain
Well, now you live your life like a shadow
In the pouring rain
Oh, its called love
Yes, its called love
Oh, its called love
And it belongs to us
Oh, it dies so quickly
It grows so slowly
But when it dies, it dies for good
Its called love
And it belongs to everyone but us
Ive lived my life in the valleys
Ive lived my life on the hills
Ive lived my life on alcohol
Ive lived my life on pills
But its called love
And it belongs to us
Its called love
And its the only thing thats worth living for
Its called love
And it belongs to us
Its called love
Yes its called love
Oh, love is found in the east and west
But when love is at home, its the best
Love is the cure for every evil
Love is the air that supports the eagle
Its called love
And its so un-cool
Its called love
And somehow its become unmentionable
Its called love
And it belongs to every one of us
Its called love
And it cuts your life like a broken knife
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain-tree
Rain-tree
The rain-tree is of cassia family -
Like an elephant it stands on the road, clothed
With thick green foliage, dark against the sky
All along the Bandra-Kurla road in Mumbai.
You have to exert a little and see
Over the top to see the nazuna-type
Of pink flowers sitting above the foliage
In plentiful numbers, with up-thrust pink hairs.
Unlike the African tulip in front of ONGC
At Bandra Flyover visible from the distance,
Here the pink and green does not show off
As rain-tree flowers don’t advertise themselves.
Unlike copper-pod’s bright yellow flowers
The rain tree flowers don’t weave a carpet:
I’ve never seen the flowers on the ground below
Nor do they wither on the tree, how I wonder!
In monsoon rains, the leaves shine specially,
Transparent drops falling on walkers below,
Or with a thud on the racing car bonnets too,
Some choose to fall on road to rise a bit upwards.
I have not understood why it is called rain-tree:
Are they attracted, peacock-like, to the rain-clouds,
Or does the rain-bird which drinks water straight from heavens
Prefer this tree, and inspire Kalidasa to write Meghdoot?
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Star 69
You dont have to take the bar exam to see
What you did is ignoramus 103
Where have I got to hang my hat
You dont have line to me
All this just to be your friend
I was there to tell you
Extortion and arson, petty larceny
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
I know all about the warehouse fire.
I know squirrelies didnt chew the wire.
Three people have my number, the other two were with me.
I dont stand tall, but Im not your patsy.
This time you have gone too far with me.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
Whyd you put your quarter down on me?
This reads like some dark inside edition, hard copy.
I cant be your character witness, I cant be your alibi.
Dont arrange the fbi, here this spy versus spy.
You my friend are guilty as can be.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I cant be your alibi.
Star 69.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fine As Fine Can Be
Youre as soft as the rose
Youre as sweet as the honey
Youre as warm as the bright morning sun
Youre as cool as the breeze on the last days of april
Youre as fine as fine can be
Youre like time is to space
Youre like faith is to trustin
Youre like blue is to feelin unkind
Youre like joy is for love,
Youre like dreams are for chasin
Youre as fine as fine can be
And when I am gone my thoughts are all with you
Youre my little angel you see
Youre as bright as the moon
Youre as light as a feather
Youre as fine as fine can be
Like the rain is for the crops
Youre like food for my thoughts
Youre like true is for knowin whats not
Youre like leaves are for trees
Youre like bees are for buzzin
Youre as fine as fine can be
Youre as bright as the moon
Youre as light as a feather
Youre as fine as fine can be
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hand That Rocks The Craddle Pink
Pink used to be the preferred color for boys.
Clouds of white for girls.
The cradle... optimistically oufitted in pink,
is the color for boys, that for a girl being true blue.
Blue) a Virgin’s color (
used once for girls and pink for boys tossed out.
Pink, is as a shade of red
was considered masculine it is a “fierce color”
while blue is frilly and decidedly delicate.
Reason goes is that pink being more a decided
and stronger color is more suitable for the boy,
while blue,
which is more delicate and dainty, is a prettier fop
than poor the toiling girl.
Boys in pink.
Blue girls and is quite tamed in us famous,
but she also has a less known work called,
The naughty pink smile.
Children named Charles were not all girls
and where the girls and Elizabeth
are in baby blue while the boys are dressed in red.
poem by Is It Poetry
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My Drug Dealer
Today-
I asked myself.
Why are the oak tree’s purple?
And the grass blue?
Why is the sky green?
And the leaves hot pink?
Why is that gravel red?
And the rocks of that garden yellow?
Then I thought
and thought over again
a million times
and realized...
I’m high.
I’m up higher than the orange clouds in the green sky
My heart is as bright as the rocks of that garden
My thoughts are as eccentric as the hot pink color of the leaves
that fell from the purple tree
My eyelashes flutter flirtatiously like the way the wind
blows the blue blades of grass around.
Love is a drug,
and I’m high-
You happen to be my dealer.
poem by Breanna Schwartz
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Asylum
My tears are blue,
My eyes, Purple, green and black-
Yours, I do not know the color of-
I may have met you before in some dark alley-
Your eyes are shut as you sleep- You, I do not know.
All eyes are upon me now- Orange, blue and yellow-
The sky is green and clouds are maudlin-
Blood falls from eyes of sorcerers,
Tears, blue as deep sea water- falling from my eyes,
My eyes are purple, green and black.
Trapped inside a place unknown-
Unknown to my spirit's heaven-
Locked inside this devil's paradise- I cannot fathom reality.
I weep blue tears, combining with the blood
Pouring from the ceiling so dank and dark-
Turning purple and magenta, in hue-
Your lips are red- red as rage,
My hair is dark and dark as is Satan's advocate's
Please somebody rescue me!
My tears are blue, my eyes,
Purple, green and black- the color of yours
Still remains a mystery- When shall you awaken?
Only in good time, my friend, only in good time-
The face of the clock on the wall is orange - Its hands lost in space-
I am lost and beside myself- while you sleep-
We are locked inside of an asylum- I heard-
You are sleeping, still as the locked door before us-
I wonder, are you dreaming or are your dreams turning to nightmares-?
My ears are ringing, I am blue- they just told me through the keyhole that
I am locked inside the world of my delusions?
Through your eyes I could read your thoughts but
Your eyes are closed as you sleep- and my eyes, are closed to the world.
Colors and more colors before me, my tears are blue,
I am blue-please release me from my pain.
I know I have been told in time I will be but the clock upon the wall
Has no feelings-just decorating this chamber of hell with
Its bright orange face as my blue tears fall
Onto the urine stained floors of this confinement-
My soul dissolves into nothingness, while blood drips from the ceiling-and
I wonder- do they make keys that unlock minds from the cells of their delusions?
Somebody just painted my world black and I am doomed to be trapped here
Forever…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Road to Success
The road to success is not straight,
There is a curve called FAILURE,
A loop called CONFUSION,
Speed bumps called FRIENDS,
Red light called ENEMIES and
caution lights called FAMILY.
But if you have a spare called
DETERMINATION,
An engine called PERSEVERANCE,
Insurance called FAITH and
A driver called JESUS (GOD, ALLAH, ISHVAR)
You will make it to a place called
SUCCESS
poem by Pratiksha Jain
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In The Early Morning [2]
In the early morning
dew covers every piece of grass and flower
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground
that appears after the first rain,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
Some dew covers every piece of grass and flower,
and new buds appear
on long green stems,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
in an aromatic existence.
At dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
on long green stems,
butterflies appear new from there metamorphoses
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays,
at dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
bees and butterflies fly to and thro
in the early morning
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground.
poem by Gert Strydom
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