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My Mother's Garden

My mother owns a beautiful
garden of flowers
Where I linger watching them
bloom for hours,
My radio on, Katherine
Jenkins singing, 'The Flower
Duet'
I could explain this like a
picture but I am no poet,
Alas let me try; butterflies
showing off their colourful
wings,
The garden also has an oak
tree with hanging swings-
Roses, daisies, jasmines,
violets, hazels, the divine
camillias-
Flowers so beautiful, their
reflections more lovelier,
As the Sun appears to bud from some petal,
I breathe my first, my heart
falls off its mantle
And in the core it once lay yours takes its place-
The light of the smile that
radiates from my face...
Many wish to see angels, sirens at sea,
But I have seen you, thats all I need to see.

Isunge Mwangase © March 17,2011

poem by Isunge Mwangase
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The Flowers In Your Garden

you are telling me that the flowers in your garden
must not be of one and the same kind
or else there will be so much boredom

you are telling me the need of variety:

roses and jasmines
and suntans and daisies, colors and scents all in multiplicity

as you talk your eyelashes curve a little lower than i expected
and your mouth twitches a little bit just to show your dislike
and contempt of the word:

boredom

unnecessary uniformity, that human need of variety
equated with a taste for something new
and even unusual

i completely agree with you.
Let me take you inside my heart
where my garden lies:

flowers of different colors and scents

i have grown them all inside my heart,

feelings of love and
desire, in a variety or sorts
in a diversification of breeds

and if by now you ask me and demand
that i may tell the truth
inside my heart, in my garden of love, you are a very beautiful flower
so sweet scented and well loved and cared by me

but there are other beautiful flowers growing in there,
you are not
just the one and only, as you would like to think
that to be

and i will tell you again,
I agree with you, there is a need really
for a variety,
the one that removes the word

boredom

from the beautiful garden of our vocabulary.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flowers, Beautiful Flowers

Life is that precious and divine,
Souls journey as per schedule,
Visit places and people,
smile and laugh,
Weep and cry together,
Come alone and go alone,
Nothing brought, nothing taken!

Just it is like flower,
Blossom and spread its fragrance,
Put a signature on several hearts,
Gone flower, never come,
Memory of its beauty,
Aura remains all the time everywhere
In hearts of those who had seen it!

People too are like flowers,
That flowers in the garden of divine,
Some are beautiful,
Some by their wisdom and knowledge,
Some with deeds and virtues,
Flowers, beautiful flowers of God's Garden!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Weed

There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.

The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send

the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.

Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.

The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.

But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.

She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.

The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Beautiful Camellias

The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.

In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.

In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.

The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Last Lovely Rose Of The Fall

Her pink petals lay on the short grass beside the red brick garden wall
By the thorny mother that bore her the last lovely rose of the Fall
White butterflies flit in the garden in the warm sunshine of mid day
And the shrike thrush he pipes on a low branch in his cloak of light brown to gray,
The rose tree has lost her last and her finest daughter next year new roses she will bear
And the rose tree in her flowers does look lovely than her there is none quite so fair
And her flowers they must return to Nature and on Nature's bosom decay
And the rose tree herself sooner or later must return to Nature one day,
The dark willy wagtail he sits on the brick wall his long black tail he wags to and fro
For him 'tis a very good Season on butterlies fat he does grow
Each life form serves a purpose in Nature for one to live one has to die
And what comes from Nature goes back to Nature and the same goes for you and for i
The pink rose petals lay on the grass by their mother on this warm March day in the Fall
And of all of the flowers in the garden in bloom she was the fairest of all.

poem by Francis Duggan
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In This Garden

In this garden
In this beautiful garden
The flowers and the grass
The stones and the water
The sculptures and all art
Sing a song
A song of beauty
A song of harmony
A song of hope

The wind whistles gently
Is it to the east?
Or is it to the west?
I don’t know and I don’t need to know
All is so beautiful

Hush…
Hush humanity
Hush…

I can feel the scent on y nostrils
The scent of the flowers
The sound of the water nearby welcoming
Peace
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With beautiful flowers
Where art lives

Hush
Play the music
Let the flowers live the music
Let the drums be heard
Let the music come to life
Play the music
Let it be heard here today
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With very beautiful flowers
Where art comes to life

poem by Jack Shaka
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Flowers or garden

There are beautiful blossoms
In the garden
And the garden looks gorgeous
I often think
Whether it is flowers which make
A garden beautiful or
It is a garden that enhances the beauty of flowers
But it is certain that both are
Incomplete without each other.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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The Lover Sings Of A Garden

Oh, beautiful are the flowers of your garden,
The flowers of your garden are fair:
Blue flowers of your eyes
And dusk flower of your hair;
Dew flower of your mouth
And peony-budded breasts,
And the flower of the curve of your hand
Where my hand rests.

poem by Helen Hoyt
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Garden Fantasy

gossamer wings of dragonflies
platinum petals of tanzanite tulips
sapphire daisies, ruby roses,
million flowers of mandarin garnets
red silk wings of butterflies
diamond-studded lilies of the valley
peridot grasses alexandrite dews
garnet violets aquamarine carnations
quarts crocus chrysoberyl chrysanthemums
opal orchids coral daffodils

metallic fantasies
of an imaginary garden
eventually your heart is missing

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden

Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Butterflies

Beautiful and colourful
Ambassadors of Heaven,
Visit the garden to pour
Heavenly beauty into it,
The flowers wait for the juicy kiss,
And put their saliva into their mouth,
Their union pleases the whole garden,
And it wears a divine look.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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My world is beautiful!

My world is beautiful,
My worlds are beautiful,
Always it will,
Life is full of Nature's bounties
My sweet mother caress and
cares me,
Me and my friends, We look beautiful with what she
gave us,
We make our world happy and
beautiful,
Not worrying,
what she didn't give! I and my friends play hide and
seek,
Colourful butterfly,
Hide behind Flowers,
How thrilling to find these flying
flowers, butterflies dancing to my Heart's silent song! Flowers filling perfume to air,
Adding colours to life,
Shining Sun make them bright,
Lonesome dove sings at dawn,
Goodmorning dear,
Wake up and look at the world, sailing clouds say,
' have a nice day'
Gentle breeze keeping us cool,
Plants swing to my silent song! Flowers smiling in my lap,
Filling my heart with joy,
Dove fly around me and sings in
ears,
Look at smiling innocent flowers,
They smile at you, Though you kill them,
Separating their mother,
Listen to silent cry of plants,
Silent mourning of butterflies,
Can't you mourn,
yes now I am mourning and my heart weeps at death of smiling
flowers! Taking oath in presence of my
friends,
'Never will I kill flowers '!
my days will be more happy and
nice,
With playful smile of flowers!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Poem about Poetry - Flowers, the poetry maestros

hey poets, if you wish to excel
learn from the flowers
the lotuses, the roses, crocuses,
the sunflowers, geraniums
humble violets and morning glories
and all the colourful blooms
how they tenderly begin
their poetic dance at dawn
petal by petal to reveal
their exquisite selves
pistils, filamens, pollen, stamens,
and bulbs so precise
and technically executed
to chart nature's wonder
you need the best ballet dancer,
poet, to challenge their heavenly skills
every step, every move, manoevring
this heart to bloom in full admiration

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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At Her Zenith

She is at her zenith
No one knows beneath
She keeps it confined to her breath
She at her best and lives with

Garden is beautiful with flowers
Might have come up with fresh showers
But all work done by her dedicated efforts
Where she find herself with nature in rapport

Is the new birth expected in garden?
Her beautiful insight helped even
Nothing to worry and nothing to get hurt
Good result and no one can subvert

She is graceful with all her acts
Where an art remains fact
Flowers speak for all the grace
One can smile with shine on face

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Rose And A Blade Of Grass

When rain falls to the ground
from the skies,
Its the Heavens kissing the
Earth,
When they make love-
Flowers, fruits, green grasses
are the offspring,
Dont lets kill these plants,
Cutting them down, classing
them as weeds-
Taking them away from their
mothers breath
After being vivified by tears of
love from their father,
Tears of men are sacred.
The Sun does not choose where
to shine,
Must we choose what plants are
of
More value than others?
A blade of grass I pick for you
In a den full of lions,
Must surely mean more than a
rose
I pick for you in a garden full of
butterflies.

© November 7,2011

poem by Isunge Mwangase
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Poem to a Secret Love

You are the missing song to my heart
The eternal beauty of which I dream
That wry smile across my face
When I am lost deep in thought
You are the secret I have poorly kept
The muse to so many poems
The reason I believe in romance
My heart is still waiting for you
I look at the flowers in bloom
The full colour of spring
If I could take every flower
I would sow a garden in your name
The birds would come and sing
And butterflies fill the air
Yet none would be as lovely
Or as beautiful as you
I say your name and I’m smiling
I think of you and feel warm
You the secret I have so poorly kept
The one of who I so often dream
The missing song to my heart
The one who has taken my love
And turned it to a work of art

poem by Matthew Holloway
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In the spring garden

In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden

poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Rose Tree Of Winter

In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Flowers Bloom Like People

The flowers in the garden strike blue,
Just like lovely you.
These flowers at the forefront speak loud,
Opening the doors to what is allowed.
Never do we release so many scents
As this day. This day, we march like gents.

Just like roses we announce,
We sometimes ponder and pounce.
In effect we denounce our leaders,
Leading the committee of readers.
These are the authority of the dance
Of flowers, in our garden of chance.

From this garden I walk into fields,
Then streets are with us, no more hayfields.
The green garden was behind now and then,
With innocence at its side, compared again.
A ghostly swamp is not our task,
Merely we dine in pleasure and mask.

For we arrive in the city streets,
Walking is an objective so much it cheats.
We are some, they are many,
This conundrum augments the penny,
For if they are greater than us,
We shall be greater with words to discuss.

Flowers, we claim, are at our heads,
They do swear to keep beds;
Our heads also keep them, one after the other,
The rooms to occupy are more than our mother.
The soil is so endangered by us,
Flowers keep great ideas in dirtiness.

The gardeners work forever this way,
Shaking the soil with their day.
May our sleeping hours prove to be higher
Than all of nature’s, still we can tire.
Flower the world with our march,
The march continues to arch.

May fatigue be the enemy of our protest,
This riot we create, and then be assessed.
What we are is not your concern,
The bushes and plants have a turn.
Their laziness requires religious thought,
We need to think better than today as sought.

Let the population know what we have forsaken,
The streets should be empty and obedient with abortion.
The walkers are right, just totally right,
An abduction causes us a different light.
They take away some flowers from the garden,
The garden of Us, we are the garden to pardon.

May we string new words,
Extract blessing from our birds.
The garden is polite like a stage,
Acting will never grow or enrage.
The nature of substances is grand,
Like that of this very land.

Lazy flowers shout too hard,
That is why they droop and be charred.
They wilt and slowly drop,
Like us as we come to the top.
Life is about the riots of flowers,
We marched up and down, with powers.

poem by Naveed Akram
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My Garden

My garden is a special place
Where morning blows its breeze
And sun dries the morning mists.
Where different plants and shrubs
Soothe the sight with flowers and buds.

My garden is a special place
Where busy bees fly and kiss
The beauty of flowers their nectar sipped
Where butterflies fly high and low
Attracting passers on the go.

My garden is a special place
Where I laid my worries and grief
Where I spend hours of peace
Where I hum with total bliss
Where I go and my stress ceased.

poem by Rose de Ramar
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