Cut Flowers
If you love me - please never bring me cut flowers
Because I know that they will die soon after a few hours
I would feel that whatever the flowers represent
Would be equal to the time we have left to spend
Straight stems, soft petals and a lush green leaf
The hours and minutes are numbered - you better believe
Picking a flower is like a sure sentence to death
Like taking a fish out of water watching his last breath
Cut down their life brutally shortened with a sharp knife
All hope diminished knowing that they will not survive
Sure the flowers may get nourishment from the water in the vase
But their life is over as they know it in just a few days
So do not buy any cut flowers for me pretty please
I rather watch them outside visited by many bees
It is so beautiful to see them sway softly outside
And so sad to see them slowly die and lose their pride
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sweet Comparison Between Flowers And Us
Flowers blossom in the sunlight,
As we all need sunlight to blossom
too.
Flowers love a good shower of
cool and refreshing water,
Like we all need a refreshing
shower too.
Flowers are cheerful when music
plays that beautiful song,
In the same way that favorite
song cheers us up.
The breeze of the wind gives us
that breath of life,
Flowers are filled with the
breath of life,
That the breeze provides.
Delicate flowers lose their petals
in need of nourishment,
Just like we lose a strand of hair
that needs to be nourished to grow
back again.
A good night's sleep help us to feel
refreshed,
Flowers need a good night's sleep
to feel refreshed and to blossom
beautifully.
A sweet comparison between flowers
and us,
Knowing how we are very much alike,
It makes a beautiful story.
poem by Derek James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purple Flowers
Purple Flowers
To my Violette
Memory;
Of my mother.
Alive and laughing pretty,
putting flowers in a vase,
water for the roots.
Why mommy, why do you do that?
A little boy full of wonder___
life can be like that.
So I can save them and see them,
because I love you.
Picking purple flowers,
purple flowers in the rain,
purle flowers hide my pain.
You do love me dont you mother,
purple flowers,
stain.
Charles R Hice
Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice
poem by Charles Hice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dearth Of Bees
Spring, and pretty flowers have opened up, even those
that pretend they are not in a loving disposition.
Not many bees around anymore because of chemicals
farmers spray on crops many have gone metro and lost
interest, fly low over still water so they can admire their
flying skill, or sit on the sunny wall of my house full of
self admiration; some hang languidly around a honey jar.
The few that still take interest in beautiful flowers are
exhausted and dropp dead long before the day is over.
Pretty flowers close petals over moist carpel and hope
for a better luck tomorrow.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers In A Vase
A bunch of flowers
Sat in a vase
Colourful and lonely
A mind looks at them
Wondering
What is it they have to say
Are they a thank you
Or a gift of love
Are they an apology
Or given in remorse
Perhaps they are for nothing
Given to bring a smile
The mind looks on
Wondering for a while
The flowers sit in their vase
Unmoved by thought
Or the reason given to them
A little water at their base
To keep them fresh for a while
They are the end of the day
Just flowers in a vase
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet
Whenever you feel melancholic and low,
Just cut some beautiful dainty flowers,
And add tall stems of lemon green foliage.
Mindfully put them in a clear crystal vase.
With patience see how to bring out the best,
From these gifts of God, in such a way,
That whosoever walks in feels blessed
To see them on the table on display.
Before you know clouds of sorrow depart,
And you wonder why you felt so sad.
All it takes is flowers to feel light hearted,
And you feel joyous and your heart expands.
Doing up flowers is like meditation,
It takes you out of your ruminations.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Village
When a new life turns towards you
And the night becomes a bay
We shall remain forever
Everyone who meets his way
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
When the rain falls to the sea
Theyll be waiting for you and for me
And the sky reflects our image
Trying to sleep right through our lives
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
I am still here two days later
Same place, same time
And Im stuck here two years too long
Same place, the wrong time
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The sun and the sea and the hours
Their love died three years ago
Spoken words I cannot show
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At the gathering of the flowers
At the gathering of the flowers
Someone waits with the rising sun
There in the wee small hours
That is where love has begun
And there with the angels above
At the gathering of the flowers
To her I do profess my love
With her I will spend all my remaining hours
Where love empowers
Is where I will meet my love
At the gathering of the flowers
With desires undreamt of
Winter winds howl about my face
But the cold shall forever cower
From your warm embrace
At the gathering of the flowers
© JPM 7/18/08
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bring Flowers
Bring flowers, young flowers, for the festal board,
To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd;
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale,
Their breath floats out on the southern gale,
And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose,
To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.
Bring flowers to strew in the conqueror's path-
He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath!
He comes with the spoils of nations back,
The vines lie crush'd in his chariot's track,
The turf looks red where he won the day-
Bring flowers to die in the conqueror's way!
Bring flowers to the captive's lonely cell,
They have tales of the joyous woods to tell;
Of the free blue streams, and the glowing sky,
And the bright world shut from his languid eye;
They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours,
And a dream of his youth-bring him flowers, wild flowers!
Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear!
They were born to blush in her shining hair.
She is leaving the home of her childhood's mirth,
She hath bid farewell to her father's hearth,
Her place is now by another's side-
Bring flowers for the locks of the fair young bride!
Bring flowers, pale flowers, o'er the bier to shed,
A crown for the brow of the early dead!
For this through its leaves hath the white-rose burst,
For this in the woods was the violet nurs'd.
Though they smile in vain for what once was ours,
They are love's last gift-bring ye flowers, pale flowers!
Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer,
They are nature's offering, their place is there!
They speak of hope to the fainting heart,
With a voice of promise they come and part,
They sleep in dust through the wintry hours,
They break forth in glory-bring flowers, bright flowers!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Anonymous Flowers
someone anonymous sends the flowers
all white
and we who receive them are all
in guesses
for whom?
and since we do not know for whom for sure
we leave the flowers
a bouquet of flowers on the table
and no one puts it inside a vase
they all wilt for no one cared
to put water on the leaves
it is like love that you give to everyone
and none in particular
when that love goes away
no one weeps.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Little Ones
'What of the garden I gave?'
God said to me;
'Hast thou been diligent to foster and save
The life of flower and tree?
How have the roses thriven,
The lilies I have given,
The pretty scented miracles that Spring
And Summer come to bring?
'My garden is fair and dear,'
I said to God;
'From thorns and nettles I have kept it clear.
Green-trimmed its sod.
The rose is red and bright,
The lily a live delight;
I have not lost a flower of all the flowers
That blessed my hours.'
'What of the child I gave?'
God said to me;
'The little, little one I died to save
And gave in trust to thee?
How have the flowers grown
That in its soul were sown,
The lovely living miracles of youth
And hope and joy and truth?'
'The child's face is all white,'
I said to God;
'It cries for cold and hunger in the night:
Its little feet have trod
The pavement muddy and cold.
It has no flowers to hold,
And in its soul the flowers you set are dead.'
'Thou fool!' God said.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gardner of beauty
Your beauty is like that of a Gardner tending to his flowers making life more beautiful with each day you tend to them. I could only wish to be one of your flowers in your garden and hope to feel your gentle hands as you would tend to me. Your beauty is to me as rain is to a flower, giving it nourishment for life. your beauty is my rain and it makes my love grow for you like that of the flower. Your loving soul is that of Gods warmth coming from the sun to a flower. Your love is my sun and feeling it's warmth to the touch it makes my soul grow as the flower would on a summer day. How I ask to be your flower and you be my gardener of life.
7-1-09
poem for my wife
poem by Timothy Honeycutt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flower Basket
Bring to me the flowers of Spring
In a woven straw basket brown
Pretty Little Maids all in a row
Petal's strewn 'cross the town
Oh so delightful in the Springtime
Resplendent in the Summer air
A garden basket of sweet scented blooms
Of The Maiden's Fair
Most beautiful to all breath-taking
Their aroma's splash the breeze
Velvet soft-like petals abloom
In The Secret Garden With Ease
They living out their complete prime
Beautifying Others Life
Their fragrance emulating upon a zephr
Numbing all of this worlds strife
Long before the rustic fall comes calling
With It's Oft' Northern Breeze
Chasing away the flowers and the green
Ending the blooms sweet life
With Ice Cold Freeze
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phantom, flowers and the sentinel
'In the pitchy darkness what are you searching sir? '.
The watch keeper asked from the puritan.
'I am searching some rare herbal flowers brother'.
'These days it's very hard to find an unblemished flower sir
because of this unending war, flowers won't come out.
There were some flowers at the back yard of the grave side,
but I am not quite sure; an uncalled man has been here last week
and plucked all the flowers.'
'It's me can't you recognize?
those flowers for the altar
and not for medication'.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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April
April, pride of woodland ways,
Of glad days,
April, bringing hope of prime,
To the young flowers that beneath
Their bud sheath
Are guarded in their tender time;
April, pride of fields that be
Green and free,
That in fashion glad and gay,
Stud with flowers red and blue,
Every hue,
Their jewelled spring array;
April, pride of murmuring
Winds of spring,
That beneath the winnowed air,
Trap with subtle nets and sweet
Flora’s feet,
Flora’s feet, the fleet and fair;
April, by thy hand caressed,
From her breast
Nature scatters everywhere
Handfuls of all sweet perfumes,
Buds and blooms,
Making faint the earth and air.
April, joy of the green hours,
Clothes with flowers
Over all her locks of gold
My sweet Lady; and her breast
With the blest
Birds of summer manifold.
April, with thy gracious wiles,
Like the smiles,
Smiles of Venus; and thy breath
Like her breath, the Gods’ delight,
(From their height
They take the happy air beneath)
It is thou that, of thy grace,
From their place
In the far-oft isles dost bring
Swallows over earth and sea,
Glad to be
Messengers of thee, and Spring.
Daffodil and eglantine,
And woodbine,
Lily, violet, and rose
Plentiful in April fair,
To the air,
Their pretty petals do unclose.
Nightingales ye now may hear,
Piercing clear,
Singing in the deepest shade;
Many and many a babbled note
Chime and float,
Woodland music through the glade.
April, all to welcome thee,
Spring sets free
Ancient flames, and with low breath
Wakes the ashes grey and old
That the cold
Chilled within our hearts to death.
Thou beholdest in the warm
Hours, the swarm
Of the thievish bees, that flies
Evermore from bloom to bloom
For perfume,
Hid away in tiny thighs.
Her cool shadows May can boast,
Fruits almost
Ripe, and gifts of fertile dew,
Manna-sweet and honey-sweet,
That complete
Her flower garland fresh and new.
Nay, but I will give my praise,
To these days,
Named with the glad name of Her
That from out the foam o’ the sea
Came to be
Sudden light on earth and air.
poem by Remy Belleau
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A vase of flowers
I saw a vase of purple-pink roses
lying on your dark brown buffet
and simply had to have it.
“Who painted this, ” I immediately enquired
loving the picture more with each look
that I took of it
as it’s not your thing
to paint still life’s with flowers.
“I painted it. It’s like painting pillow slips, ”
you replied and astonished
I looked at it again
and this was on board
and not in water colours
but done with oil paint.
The folds of the cups were edged
in ridges along their lines
using the techniques
of your abstract paintings
and one smaller unopened bud
laid next to the bowl
almost running into your name.
Little pink flowers was in the background
where the transparent vase with green stems
was against the wall on a tiled floor.
[Reference: Vase with roses by Mandi Engelbrecht. (This painting belongs to me.) ]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Flower Show
Flower show
Flowers
Smile
Clour to
Clours...
Hunted for
Heart..
For flower smooth..
Flowers are
Beauty....
Some flowers
Are ugly...
I dont want
This matter...
Flowers are
Only Sumilee'S
That is flowers....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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