God's Gardens
God looked around his garden
To find an empty place,
He looked down at the hospital
And saw your tired face
He closed your weary eyelids
And lifted you to rest
God's garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
God saw that you were suffering
He knew the pain you was in
He could feel the pain you were in
And he knew you would never
Get well on earth again
He knew the roads was getting rough
So he whispered good night Martin
And Closed them weary eyes
It broke our hearts to let you go
But you didn't go alone,
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home
poem by Lauren Louise
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God's Garden
God looked around his garden
And found an empty place,
He then looked down upon the earth
And saw your tired face.
He put his arms around you
And lifted you to rest.
God’s garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
He knew that you were suffering
He knew you were in pain.
He knew that you would never
Get well on earth again.
He saw the road was getting rough
And the hills were hard to climb.
So he closed your weary eyelids
And whispered, ‘Peace bethine’.
It broke our hearts to lose you
But you didn’t go alone,
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home.
poem by Katie Evans
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Warned
They stood at the garden gate.
By the lifting of a lid
She might have read her fate
In a little thing he did.
He plucked a beautiful flower,
Tore it away from its place
On the side of the blooming bower,
And held it against his face.
Drank in its beauty and bloom,
In the midst of his idle talk;
Then cast it down to the gloom
And dust of the garden walk.
Ay, trod it under his foot,
As it lay in his pathway there;
Then spurned it away with his boot,
Because it had ceased to be fair.
Ah! the maiden might have read
The doom of her young life then;
But she looked in his eyes instead,
And thought him the king of men.
She looked in his eyes and blushed,
She hid in his strong arms' fold;
And the tale of the flower, crushed
And spurned, was once more told.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A face in the clouds
I looked up at the sky
all I could see were clouds
big ones like mashed potato.
One looked like a map
of the United Kingdom
another shaped like Spain.
But there amongst these
was a beautiful face
and it looked like you.
Was my mind playing tricks?
but I looked up again
and it was still there
all white and so clear.
This beautiful face in the sky
put there just for me
then it changed and it was gone
just like you.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Life's Garden
We all grow up in this Garden called Life,
There are many inner and outer strifes,
In the silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
There are weeds and pests in this Garden called Life,
They are know as ignorance, greed, and vice.
In the silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life.
Every garden needs sunshine and rain,
In this garden you will find joy and pain.
In this silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
Plant sparsely, your harvest will be a pittance,
Plant bountifully, your harvest will be munificence,
In this silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
Did you plant deeds of joy, love and peace?
Or did you drop seeds of hatred, conflict, and gloom?
The world will know by the plants' bloom.
In the silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
poem by Anna B. Kurzweil
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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In the night with you
Last night I saw the full moon
hang yellow-gold through the window,
above your shoulder over the bed.
Your big eyes
mirrored the starry lights from outside
and your beautiful face,
looked soft and full of rest
and peaceful.
The smell of jasmine
from the garden
glided into the room
and while I laid and looked at you,
I knew that I am really living.
Somewhere from one of the trees
a bird called to its mate
and in the night
and for hours,
I laid and waited
for the red morning light to arrive
and for you to awake.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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 Mocking Fairy
'Won't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?'
Quoth the Fairy, nidding, nodding in the garden;
'Can't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?'
Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly in the garden;
But the air was still, the cherry boughs were still,
And the ivy-tod neath the empty sill,
And never from her window looked out Mrs. Gill
On the Fairy shrilly mocking in the garden.
'What have they done with you, you poor Mrs. Gill?'
Quoth the Fairy brightly glancing in the garden;
'Where have they hidden you, you poor old Mrs. Gill?'
Quoth the Fairy dancing lightly in the garden;
But night's faint veil now wrapped the hill,
Stark 'neath the stars stood the dead-still Mill,
And out of her cold cottage never answered Mrs. Gill
The Fairy mimbling, mambling in the garden.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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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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A bird came into my garden
A bird came into my Garden
She looked very Cheerful
Her beak was red and feathers Blue
Red stripes shone on the Body
Sound of her chirping lured me
I wanted to take her in my Lap
I ran after her
She kept on Dodging
Though tired but urge was Increasing
I tried my Best
But couldn’t catch her
Frustrated, I sat down on the Mat
I closed my eyes to take little Rest
I opened my eyes and was quite surprised
I found the bird sitting in my Lap
She understood the feelings,
I had for her
Surrendered Herself
To make me love her
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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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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In The Garden
One moment alone in the garden,
Under the August skies;
The moon had gone but the stars shone on, -
Shone like your beautiful eyes.
Away from the glitter and gaslight,
Alone in the garden there,
While the mirth of the throng, in laugh and song,
Floated out on the air.
You looked down through the starlight,
And I looked up at you;
And a feeling came that I could not name, -
Something starnge and new.
Friends of a few weeks only, -
Why should it give me pain
To know you would go in the morrow,
And would not come again?
Formal friends of a season.
What matter that we must part?
But under the skies, with a swift surprise,
Each read the other's heart.
We did not speak, but your breath on my cheek
Was like a breeze of the south:
And your dark hair brushed my forehead
And your kiss fell on my mouth.
Some one was searching for me, -
Some one to say good-night;
And we went in from the garden,
Out of the sweet starlight,
Back to the glitter and music,
And we said 'Good-bye' in the hall,
When a dozen heard and echoed the word,
And then - well, that was all.
The river that rolls between us
Can never be crossed, I know,
For the waters are deep and the shores are steep,
And a maelstrom whirls below;
But I think we shall always remember,
Though we both may strive to forget,
How you looked in my eyes, 'neath the August skies,
After the moon had set; -
How you kissed my lips in the garden,
And we stood in a trance of bliss,
And our hearts seemed speaking together
In that one thrilling kiss.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Emerson
I saw the bee!
But when i came around to your garden, it turned into a butterfly;
Yes, in the land of your muse where you have a beautiful garden.
For, true love brought me closer to you.
This is about the wonderful garden of your love! !
And of all the things planted in this garden;
But, your magical works tranformed this bee that i saw into a butterfly,
However, i will always like to visit this garden of love.
I am Emerson and, this bee that i saw attracted me to your beautiful garden;
And like the muse of true love in the land of beautiful flowers,
But, this magical touch will always be in my mind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Blue Boy
Lady called the blue boy, love,
She took him home
Made himself an idol, yes,
So he turned to stone
Like a pilgrim she travelled
Ta place her flowers
Before his granite grace
And she prayed aloud for love
To waken in his face
In his face, oh __________
Sometimes in the evening
He would read to her
Roll her in his arms
And give his seed to her
She would wake in the morning
Without him
And go to the window
And look out thru the pain
But the statue in her garden
He always looked the same
He looked the same, ah _________
Bring her boots of leather
And she will dance for him
Shyly from a feather fan
Shell glance for him
Here he comes after midnight
To find her again
He will come a few times more
Till he finds a lady statue
Standing in a door
In her door, oh __________
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose Garden
I watched you in your
garden,
Roses growing every-
where.
Flowers were so lovely,
Perfume filled the air.
Touching them so
gently,
Creating a bouquet,
Tieing yellow
ribbons,
So they would'nt blow
away.
As I left the garden,
On that summer day
I turned and looked
once more,
Then slowly walked
away.
I admire your lovely
garden,
So happy I would be,
If I were the rosebud,
You touched so
tenderly.
poem by Heather Burns
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After A While...
when he was about to
leave me
for good, (that is what is usually
said)
he told me
Be not proud
for you too
shall have a share of those pains
just like the rest
and it is only when every
flesh of your body
gets numb
(i.e. it is too familiar
with pain that
it does not react anymore
to any
stimuli)
that you finally get
that reward
of what you have always sought
that
eternal peace
(i.e. it is not that the mind
becomes blank
like the closure of the windows
of the day
where you are led
into a dark room where you have
no choice but
sleep
forever,
no, no, no
it is not
it is never meant that way
it is this
you sleep
you are too tired
for almost everything
you do not remember
what happened
you wake up
light touches your face
plays with your
eyelids
you rise
again
a whisper leads you to
the door that opens
into a garden
it is such a beautiful garden
flowers that you have first seen
scents that you have never smelled before
there are sounds of
chirping birds
blue clouds
clear skies
a peaceful path
that takes you
to new friends
yes, my dear,
you are into another new beginning
you write again
those new letters upon a new language
that surprises you
with a higher
level of
understanding
yes, it is the wisdom
that faces you
upon a first
meeting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beauty In Essence
I read beautiful sentence 'beauty is joy forever'
How best to understand 'beauty lies in the eyes of beholder'
I was restless and decided to search
But I had imagined it as beyond reach
God only knows how to define beauty
He has created it and certainly is his duty
I shall have to feel or be the part of beautiful universe
If I am granted black color then it should not be the cause of curse
Oh God! What a project I have taken on hand?
Not even almighty has tried to understand
It was freely distributed on earth by nature
Many flowers have come up in garden to reassure
'No, it can't be as simple as that' I was amused
I opened eyes but in misbelieve refused
Why was it not attracting as it should have been?
I thought for a while but lacked the power to be called divine
Wherever I moved and tried to guess
I saw the same power with divine face
He was there in each particle
Each one speaking itself as independent article
I found beauty in black eyes
With same attraction and force it tried
Not that white lacked any appeal
But black represented nothing to repeal
I raised my hands and looked at his mighty power
Only rain god had the blessings to offer
Bring life and beauty to earth in general
So many appeared quickly and many disappeared with funeral
I tried to read and decode the beautiful language
I was not young enough to understand that page
Where all the material was available to feel beautiful
But I found it at no place and remained unsuccessful
I find each object better than the other
Among the females I could see only mother
In the garden I could find only rose flower
Where else I need to go now to find beautiful cover?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Birthday Song
Written by kim & ricki wilde
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Theres a forest, a beautiful place
The sun always shines upon your face
And the wind blows away
The troubles inside your mind
Youll find your secret garden
A place that nobody knows (nobody knows)
Where you can go
(scarlett) the world looks bright today but one day youll want to cry
(scarlett) (ah-ah) and when your sky looks grey theres one thing I hope youll know
Theres a place you can go
In the distance, your life in the wings
Who knows what emotions it will bring
But the secrets you hold will help you through anything
(ah-ah) youll find your secret garden
(ah-ah) a place that nobody knows (nobody knows)
Where you can go
(scarlett) the world looks bright today but one day youll want to cry
(scarlett) (ah-ah) and when your sky looks grey theres one thing I hope youll know
Theres a place you can go
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Oh so dont be afraid
If you trust the voice inside of you
Itll guide you on your way
On your way
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
(scarlett) the world looks bright today but one day youll want to cry
(scarlett) (ah-ah) and when your sky looks grey theres one thing I hope youll know
(scarlett) youll find your secret garden, somewhere that you can go
(scarlett) (ah-ah) somewhere where you can grow
Scarlett
Theres a place you can go
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ad lib to fade
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
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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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