The Stranger's Gift
I found far culled from fragrant field and grove
Each flower that makes our Spring a welcome guest;
In one sweet bond of brotherhood inwove
An osier band their leafy stalks compressed;
A stranger's hand had made their bloom my own,
And fresh their fragrance rested on the air;
His gift was mine—but he who gave unknown,
And my heart sorrowed though the flowers were fair.
Now oft I grieve to meet them on the lawn,
As sweetly scattered round my path they grow,
By One who on their petals paints the dawn,
And gilt with sunset splendors bids them glow,
For I ne'er asked 'who steeps them in perfume?'
Nor anxious sought His love who crowns them all with bloom.
poem by Jones Very
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Ode to the Plum Blossom
Wind and rain escorted Spring's departure,
Flying snow welcomes Spring's return.
On the ice-clad rock rising high and sheer
A flower blooms sweet and fair.
Sweet and fair, she craves not Spring for herself alone,
To be the harbinger of Spring she is content.
When the mountain flowers are in full bloom
She will smile mingling in their midst.
Outside the post-house, beside the broken bridge, Alone, deserted, a flower blooms.
Saddened by her solitude in the falling dusk,
She is now assailed by wind and rain.
Let other flowers be envious!
She craves not Spring for herself alone.
Her petals may be ground in the mud,
But her fragrance will endure.
poem by Mao Zedong
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April Flower
Bloom for me,
My April flower.
Show your beauty,
I'll take a gander.
The wind scatters your scent
Giving me the feeling of heaven.
You're the perfection i've dreamt,
The one that i've chosen.
Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
And let me see,
Your petals that matches no other.
I know you're not mine
And you did not grew for me
I can only see you again this time
Unable to resist fate's cruelty.
Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
Though we're not destined to be,
Stay in my heart and take shelter.
In my heart, you will not wilt,
You will eternally bloom..
Even if i am burdened by this guilt,
and love is my certained doom.
Bloom for me for the last time,
At least i can call this moment mine
Ignore my reasons that doesn't rhyme,
Show me your beauty that i can't define.
Bloom..for all eternity..April Flower.
poem by John Paul Ang
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The New Spring
The long grief left her old—and then
Came love and made her young again
As though some newer, gentler Spring
Should start dead roses blossoming;
Old roses that have lain full long
In some forgotten book of song,
Brought from their darkness to be one
With lilting winds and rain and sun;
And as they too might bring away
From that dim volume where they lay
Some lyric hint, some song's perfume
To add its beauty to their bloom,
So love awakes her heart that lies
Shrouded in fragrant memories,
And bids it bloom again and wake
Sweeter for that old sorrow's sake.
poem by Theodosia Garrison
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On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
God please keep the happy
People always happy
And let the Spring season
Of joy pass by smoothly
God don't let the happy
People see her in tears
Since they overlook her
And want to live in cheers
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
poem by Asif Andalib
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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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A Beautiful Flower Blooming
A withered flower blooming again
breeze shook the flower
the sun is shining on flower
rain water to wash the dust-filled flower
abort storm petals
storm that renders the flower petals
polling beetle sucking painful
flower that bloom so bright today
beauty exudes an aura of coolness of the beholder
spread the fragrance that invites a bee to touch
although many other flowers around it
bees sucking the flower first
choose to suck and touch the flower
lately the flower
always bloom radiate beauty
a bee was not able to get away from the flower
a bee sucking the beautiful bloomington
always produce the honey taste good
really beautiful relationship between the flower and bee
both are very compatible and complement each other
poem by meti Rahmawati
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Anguish Thoughts
I saw a flower
Not so fresh, enchanting
It has no sweet smell as roses have.
But it has the thorns of roses.
If I touch a flower
I can tell its soft or rough
But all flowers are soft
Soft petals with sweet fragrance
Make a flower beloved.
But I can’t touch this flower
For it is dangerous.
But worms found its bed
And going to destroy my little flower.
Can this secret love
Destroy her crimson petals?
poem by Abdul Hakeem Parannur
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Flowers of mercy
In the field they are scattered
pink, white and brown-red
and emerge by them self
as if by mercy
and shoot up between blades of grass
and weeds
and the brittle heads
looks almost plastic fine
and still there’s nothing artificial
where the flowers stand in the veldt
with only the rain and sun
going over them.
Your love I also found
so unplanted,
which by its own accord
grows into my depths
and through hard times
still stays with me.
Other flowers
want to bloom around me
and I try and cut old feelings
down short,
as you are the flower
of flowers to me
and I just want to grow
deeper into your soul.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sunshine Hue
Sunshine hue, sunshine grew
Shines its rays on me and you
Sunshine light sunshine bright
Not a dark cloud close in sight
Sunshine thrive sunshine grow
Sweet healing rays on all your tribe
Sunshine healing, sunshine show
The pure essence of our being
Sunshine parade, sunshine displayed
In its fractionised barricade
Sunshine tranced, sunshine danced
Gave our souls such sweet romance
Sunshine dove, sunshine above
Thanks for your sweet rays of love
So sun kissed and pure sun bliss
Sunshine blocks out all the mist
So sunshine mellow sunshine yellow
You’ve made me a lucky fellow
There is a garden where very few
can roam, not very far from home
Come closer, I am alone, just now
Go past cobwebs glistening like silver
Come closer, you're the rose
I want the most to go through
My garden of ice and snow
Blooming with rich fragrant roses
Velvety black, blue and red
Each with perfume of love
As I sleep below the roses
Loneliness has reached my skin
I need the love that ebbs and flows
Just a sip from your succulent nectar
Shall free me from this small pain
Dig deep beneath the thorny layers
And free me from your heart
That we can share the midnight hours
and know how I hunger and thirst
Just a shield me, protect me
And this shall will give me power
To become a loved once again
Without it I will fade away
I'd rather have roses on my table
Than diamonds on my neck
Where flowers bloom so does hope
Each flower is a soul opening out to nature
Perfumes are the feelings of flowers
The world is one giant rose
Smell it and pass it onto your friends
When bright flowers bloom
Parchment crumbles, my words fade
The pen has dropped...
Flowers are love's truest language
I will touch a hundred flowers
And never pick one, none
They are not long, the days of wine and roses
Out of a misty dream our path emerges
For a while, then closes within a dream
There came a time when the risk
To remain tight in the bud
Was more painful than the risk it took
Blossoming flowers are the sweetest things
Ever made and forgot to put a soul into
It is at the edge of a petal that love waits
Pure as any one of you
Who can estimate the elevating and refining
Influences and moral value of flowers
With all their graceful forms
Bewitching shades and combinations
Colours and exquisitely varied perfumes
These silent influences are unconsciously felt
Even by those who do not appreciate them
And thus with better and still better flowers
Will the earth be transformed, man's thought
Refined, and turned from the base destructive
Forces into nobler, more simpler production
One which will lift us to high planes of action
Toward the happy day when the angels
Of all this beautiful work is more acknowledged
Loved with many richer grains
Better fruit and fairer flowers from this earth
For myself I hold no preferences among flowers
So long as they are wild, free, spontaneous.
Observe this dew drenched rose garden
A rose today, tomorrow and yesterday
It was the dust, the sunshine, and the rains
Which I first saw, or desired to see, the flower
In the cherry blossom's shade
There's no such thing as a stranger
The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers
The dreams are as beautiful in friendship
Fragrant garden, there are flowers of every hue
Each with its own fair beauty and its gift of joy
None can have a healthy love for flowers
Unless he loves the wild ones freely
White blossoms slowly float down
Dancers in the wind as everything has been
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room
To my way of thinking
But even on solitary little vase
Home of a living flower may redeem it
Thought of before, in the hope
Reaching the moon, men fail to see
The flowers that blossom at their feet
Who would have thought it possible
That a tiny little flower could preoccupy
A persons mind completely
There simply wasn't room for any other thought
Let me show you the sweet smell
A delicate whisper behind the vision
Gardens are drunk from roses
And it is my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes
Flowers leave their fragrance
In the hand that bestows them
We gathered the wild flowers
There seemed one pure delight
Through the field we roamed
There seemed one pure delight
Silently a flower blooms
In silence it falls away
Yet here now, at this moment, at this place
The world of the flower
The whole of you is blooming
This is the talk of the flower
The truth of the blossom
The glory of eternal life
Is fully shining here
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room, to my way of thinking;
but even on solitary little vase of a living flower may redeem it.
There grows the flower of Peace
The Rose that cannot wither
Do not the petals flutter down
Just like this?
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened and into the rose garden with all the flowers of all the tomorrows are in the seeds of today, every flower about a house certifies to the refinement of somebody, every vine climbing and blossoming tells of love and joy and stories yet to come…
poem by Char Pattrick
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The Perfume And Colour Of Flower, Is Already In The Plant!
The flower blooms on that Plant,
Enchanting beauty and colour of
flower,
Perfume and colours were in the
flowering plants,
The perfume spreads, colours shine,
When every heart bloom on
maturity of love and wisdom!
The fragrance of flowers allready
bloomed-gives not only
courage, but also hope and faith
in nature's laws and Nature's plans!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Love in Bloom
Love in Bloom
By: Adam M. Snow
Love, a flower, forever blooms upon our Earth,
Its fragrance borne aloft by a couple's birth,
Love's petals gently open in the glowing hearts of two,
The petals bright colors painting the whispered words 'I Do.'
Thus love entwines this couple and makes them strong,
Their tenderness and commitment shall never feel wrong.
The miracle of two souls destined to meet,
Guided by their God's love, so gentle and sweet.
From this moment forward the two shall go,
Embraced by a love that always will flow.
Through the years they will face trials of the heart,
But this blessed couple never shall they part.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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The Indian Lover. Morning Song.
O'ER flowery fields of waving maize,
The breeze of morning lightly plays;
Arise, my Zumia! let us rove,
The cool and fragrant citron grove!
Fair nature spreads her lavish bloom,
And bids her zephyrs waft perfume;
She breathes ambrosial odours rare;
With cassia-fragrance fills the air,
And calls thee forth her sweets to share,
My lovely maid!
We'll mark each aromatic flower,
Expanding to the radiant hour;
We'll seek the scented orange-bower,
Or tam'rind shade;
Now, ere the fervid hours of day,
Arise, my Zumia! haste away!
Hark! from yonder palmy grove,
Swells the choral song of love!
There, on every weeping spray,
Warblers tune the melting lay:
Morning's roseate hues are spreading
Balmy essence, flowers are shedding;
Nature smiles, in green array,
My Zumia rise! no more delay!
Now glitt'ring in the lucid rays,
The humming-bird his wing displays
Floats on the sun-beam and the gale,
From spicy wood, to myrtle-vale;
Flutters on light, ethereal plume,
In tints of orient beauty drest;
Steals honey from the glowing bloom,
And weaves the fairy-nest.
I'll climb each tall, aspiring tree,
To seek nectareous fruits for thee;
I'll cull the blossoms op'ning fair,
In blushing wreaths to bind thy hair:
For thee the streams in murmurs flow;
For thee the buds empurpling glow;
For thee the balmy zephyrs play;
Arise, my Zumia! haste away!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Is there a flower in you waiting to bloom?
is there a flower in you waiting to bloom?
to colour the world with its charms?
is it forming? a promising little bud
rearing its head in the sanctum of your soul
that would one day burst off to mersmerise the world
is there a flower in you waiting to bloom?
are the petals giving their ways to grow?
or are they retarded, in the shadows of a hut
no sun could break through?
every carnation in the garden
is a dream achieved, their smiles spanning wide,
the rain and shine have brought out their best
and children and insects all crowd around
to share their heavenly blessings
is there a flower in you waiting to bloom?
a sky is waiting to greet your song,
be it white violet or blue
are you working sweats and tears for it
to come true? a carnation the sun kisses
the wind lifs up and the boy crowns his love with
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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On Spring
Hail, thou auspicious vernal dawn!
Ye birds, proclaim the winter's gone,
Ye warbling minstrels sing;
Pour forth your tribute as ye rise,
And thus salute the fragrant skies
The pleasing smiles of Spring.
Coo sweetly, oh thou harmless Dove,
And bid thy mate no longer rove,
In cold, hybernal vales;
Let music rise from every tongue,
Whilst winter flies before the song,
Which floats on gentle gales.
Ye frozen streams dissolve and flow
Along the valley, sweet and slow;
Divested fields be gay:
Ye drooping forests bloom on high,
And raise your branches to the sky,
And thus your charms display.
Thou world of heat--thou vital source,
The torpid insects feel thy force,
Which all with life supplies;
Gardens and orchards richly bloom,
And send a gale of sweet perfume,
To invite them as they rise.
Near where the crystal waters glide,
The male of birds escorts his bride,
And twitters on the spray;
He mounts upon his active wing,
To hail the bounty of the Spring,
The lavish pomp of May.
Inspiring month of youthful Love,
How oft we in the peaceful grove,
Survey the flowery plume;
Or sit beneath the sylvan shade,
Where branches wave above the head,
And smile on every bloom.
Exalted month, when thou art gone,
May Virtue then begin the dawn
Of an eternal Spring?
May raptures kindle on my tongue,
And start a new, eternal song,
Which ne'er shall cease to ring!
poem by George Moses Horton
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Vanity
A wan sky greener than the lawn,
A wan lawn paler than the sky.
She gave a flower into my hand,
And all the hours of eve went by.
Who knows what round the corner waits
To smite? If shipwreck, snare, or slur
Shall leave me with a head to lift,
Worthy of him that spoke with her.
A wan sky greener than the lawn,
A wan lawn paler than the sky.
She gave a flower into my hand,
And all the days of life went by.
Live ill or well, this thing is mine,
From all I guard it, ill or well.
One tawdry, tattered, faded flower
To show the jealous kings in hell.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Time For Joining War
We have to join in war,
This is the time to join in war
Yes, I have to go to battle field
Not to waste time in this way.
Have to go to war; have to go to war
Have to go to war.
Bondage! No, no, no and never,
I do not accept, can’t accept, this can’t be
Flowers will not bloom on my way-this can’t be
Can any one hold the sun in pledge?
I must join the war,
Join the war, join the war.
Enemy of flower is the foe of sun
Foe of sun is the enemy of flower
And also enemy of our love-
Flood, thunder, storm- are temporary distress
Could you hold your beauty in pledge at mirror?
No! No, no, no, no- it will must come out.
Perfume of flower is sent as letter
Perfume of flower, perfume of flower, perfume of flower-
Who are the enemies their eremite is for ever
Enemy of river, tree, magpie robin and cuckoo
War, war against them
Yes, I have to go to battle field.
War against them who create obstruction
On the way of river
War against them who hang the green grass
War against them who obstruct the rain fall from sky
War, war and war
Against them who obstruct to love flower, poet to write
Who obstruct to talk in mother tongue!
War, war, war and war against them
I have to go to battle field-
This is the time to join in war
This is the time to join in war
And this is the time to join in war.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Lucy’s Birthday
Seventeen rosebuds in a ring,
Thick with sister flowers beset,
In a fragrant coronet,
Lucy's servants this day bring.
Be it the birthday wreath she wears
Fresh and fair, and symbolling
The young number of her years,
The sweet blushes of her spring.
Types of youth and love and hope!
Friendly hearts your mistress greet,
Be you ever fair and sweet,
And grow lovelier as you ope!
Gentle nursling, fenced about
With fond care, and guarded so,
Scarce you've heard of storms without,
Frosts that bite or winds that blow!
Kindly has your life begun,
And we pray that heaven may send
To our floweret a warm sun,
A calm summer, a sweet end.
And where'er shall be her home,
May she decorate the place;
Still expanding into bloom,
And developing in grace.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Here Comes The Spring
Joy that comes with each passing spring
Is free for all for both begger or a king
For the spring is a gift of God
That he has given to all as reward
For spring is when flowers bloom
And are ready to take away gloom
And it is when birds start to sing
To tell all that here comes the Spring
So enjoy this gift and thank your Lord
Who gave you the part of blessing's rod
And showed you so much joy in the way
That made pleasurable your whole life's day.
Seema Chowdhury
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Spring Flowers
O THE rare spring flowers! take them as they come:
Do not wait forsummer buds—they may never bloom.
Every sweet to-day sends, we are wise to save;
Roses bloom for pulling: the path is to the grave.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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To My Daughter
in your eyes
i see my face
and i remember the
flower of my
youth
now the petals
are gone
but then
i see myself bloom
again
in your garden
how i wish to
bury all my unfinished dreams
in the sockets of your eyes
how i dream
to be inside you forever
but no
as you blink today
i see in your heart another face
the one that you love
the one that makes
your heart full
that emptiness now
that i can no longer fill
you bloom
as a flower yourself
then someone
shall pick you
and i shall be this stem
without leaves
surrendering
to the sun
poem by Antonio Liao
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