Related quotes: On a wintry morn, just...

A Walk In The Park

On a wintry morn, just for a lark,
I went for a morning walk.
All of a sudden I spotted roses bloom.
I stood spellbound watching the hues
And had my daily talk with God,
And said out aloud, Lord
How do you do it?
While we hassled, sit
And moan about life being dreary
At the end of the day when we are weary.

As I walked past flower beds,
In colors- pink, white, violet and red.
Poppy, Calendula, Pansy, Flox
Their smiling upturned faces seem to mock.
They will die in a day or two,
I thought as I saw the petals covered with dew.
They just bloom unaware of their beauty,
Has God sent them to fulfill a duty?

I wonder why we pluck flowers,
And put them in vases.
They belong here
In the flower beds, where
All can bask in their beauty
And forget about their chores and duty.

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Related quotes

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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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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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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Sonnet Of Motherhood X

I walked among the flowers that bend their heads
Low to the earth and back again to light,
Hearing them prattle of their blue and white—
Violet and jasmine in the bordered beds.
They whispered them of every wing that weds
388ഊFragrance to fragrance in the dusky night;
And, seeing them, I knew another sight,
And saw them bowing where all Beauty spreads.

I touched each petal with the sunbeams flaked—
Roses and pansies of the early morn,
Lilies that lilted of the moon’s light grace,
And left them hushed when all my joy was slaked;
For in the garden of my soul, God-born,
Each flower made beauty for my child’s soft face.

poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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Pink Flowers.

Do not text me or think otherwise
I am just picking flowers from my garden.
Last evening I picked a red rose but
Wow! It proved to be too red for my date
Today I visited the same garden
The only flower I found was a white rose.
Where is my favourite pink rose?

This morning I cycled to the market
Sure, to buy my date a pink rose
But the only roses there were yellow and purple.
Tried to enquire where I could get one
But no one knows where to find.
Went to my flower vendor but nowhere to find
Where will I get my pink rose for my date?

Tomorrow, I'll travel far and wide
Only to get this precious pink flower
And if I succeed, my date will be happy
And my heart will find a solace rest
Amidst the residue of love petals
Just with the pink flower petals.
Where will I get my Pink rose flower?

(Dedicated for my pink flower date)

poem by Aron Lelei
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By the Peonies

The peonies bloom, white and pink.
And inside each, as in a fragrant bowl,
A swarm of tiny beetles have their conversation,
For the flower is given to them as their home.

Mother stands by the peony bed,
Reaches for one bloom, opens its petals,
And looks for a long time into peony lands,
Where one short instant equals a whole year.

Then lets the flower go. And what she thinks
She repeats aloud to the children and herself.
The wind sways the green leaves gently
And speckles of light flick across their faces.

The charms of the ordinariness soothe the threat of anxiety.

poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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To dear KASTHURI - The Wilted Flower -Poem-2

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

POEM-2

WILTED FLOWER

Like a flower
That sweetly blooms
In the bower;

Shedding its beauty
All around,
As its bounden duty;

You, my dear,
Did all you could
To wipe a tear

Which others shed,
As your bounden duty
And them you led..

Like a flower,
That droops down
In its bower;

Whose beauty is torn,
From this earth
In the following morn;

You, my dear,
Were made to wilt;
Though many a tear,

Could not help,
To bring you back;
In our great yelp!

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Be The Flower

The lovely flower
in bloom
Reminds one
not of its doom
the day after
when comes the end
of its life's chapter!

Very happily
is the babe born
Though it is to be torn
one day or the other
From this world
of it's father and mother!

Then, why O man
should ye dote
on your life's span?
Do thy duty
as radiates gaiety
The flower of beauty!

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Flower’s Name

(after Robert Browing)

Through this garden her steps swept
before she opened the gate,
where roses with dew wept
and not a moment longer she could wait,
while there was something gracious in her walk
before she stopped a moment at the letterbox,
in the distance children’s voices she heard talk
while her arm brushed against the snow-white phlox.

Her feet carried her in ready steps as she passed by,
saw red carnations in a row
and her eyes sparkled bluer than the sky
while she felt a gentle breeze blow
everywhere flowers and buds did God praise
in their beauty almost casting a spell
while they were blooming for days
with more loveliness and vibrant colours than anyone can tell.

III

She found a flower much more lovely
than any other one she had ever seen
while bees were circling it lively
and to smell it she was keen
but did not know the flower’s name
while it was something precious that she did found,
the flower was blushing as if it were aflame
where it was growing in bloom upon bloom from the ground.

[Reference: “Garden Fancies: I: The flower’s name” by Robert Browing.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Thoughts On A Fallen ' Paarijaatham ' Flower.

thoughts on a fallen 'paarijaatham ' flower.

i was wading through my vague thoughts

as i walked along the roadside-

i came to senses with a sudden start-

o god! i was about to tread on a small flower

full of grace and simple beauty with a mild fragrance-

it is considered a holy flower;

it is 'paarijaatham' or ' pavazhamalli '

with one 'cm' orange stalk

and six perfectly merging white petals-

there always seems to be a swirl frozen on its petals

resembling the wheel-like weapon of gods-

memories of bygone years visit crowding me

whereupon we, brothers, rushed to gardens and groves

to gather these lovely flowers

with the greediest arms encircling in whirls

to corner these gems outwitting other valiant competitors

as they lay spread like mats on the ground

while rained in blossom-showers over our heads-

we also had gentlemen agreements among boys

not to invade the territories of others not so clearly marked out-

and to offer duty bound to our father

for his daily morning worship-

yes those were the cheerful days

as if on an expedition in the cool dawn hours

waiting impatiently for the 'keyman ' to unlock the premises-

why this flower blossom stealthily at night

with none to enjoy its fragrance and beauty?

why its life is so short-lived?

why even the whisper of a gentle breeze knocks it down?

o tree! are you so heartless to disown your kids

like some soulless mothers of their illicit infants?

or do the stars order that these star-children

also to depart at the invent of the dawn?

o tiny flower! ever you kindle sweet memories

of our joyful association from ages past-

blessed i am, o charming friend,

i have ever my rebirth as a child at your sight!

-s.chandra kalaadhar

poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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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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Beauty: [Notes for an unfinished poem]

The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,
Is that which pleases us, says Kant,
Without a thought of interest or advantage.

I used to watch men when they spoke of beauty
And measure their enthusiasm. One
An old man, seeing a ( ) setting sun,
Praised it ( ) a certain sense of duty
To the calm evening and his time of life.
I know another man that never says a Beauty
But of a horse; ( )

Men seldom speak of beauty, beauty as such,
Not even lovers think about it much.
Women of course consider it for hours
In mirrors; ( )

A shrapnel ball -
Just where the wet skin glistened when he swam -
Like a fully-opened sea-anemone.
We both said 'What a beauty! What a beauty, lad'
I knew that in that flower he saw a hope
Of living on, and seeing again the roses of his home.
Beauty is that which pleases and delights,
Not bringing personal advantage - Kant.
But later on I heard
A canker worked into that crimson flower
And that he sank with it
And laid it with the anemones off Dover.

poem by Wilfred Owen
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Beauty

The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,
Is that which pleases us, says Kant,
Without a thought of interest or advantage.

Men seldom speak of beauty, beauty as such,
Not even lovers think about it much.
Women of course consider it for hours
In mirrors; ( )

poem by Wilfred Owen
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Songbirds and Flowers

Look high to the skies with me
Over the flower-beds, beyond the lea.
Raven and blackbird fly close to heaven
Daylight delivering an angelic blessing.
~~~Thank You Lord Jesus~~~

Joie de vivre, oh joy of living.
Euphony and beauty, nature is giving.
Sun kisses the petals ~ brightens each feather
Under God's wing, hides creation's endeavour.
Songbirds and roses, we always will treasure.
~~~Thank You Lord Jesus~~~

poem by Joyce Hemsley
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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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After You Unfold As A Flower In Complete Bloom

i see you unfolding as a flower to me
i become your sun to shine upon you
as you bloom completely
i watch the beauty before me
i am warm too as you are so beautiful
to the caresses of my rays
i hold you then kissing everything
your petals your leaves your receptacles

after you unfold as a flower in complete bloom
i will make you
some dews
gleaming

then i leave in this sunset of my life
you too must fall
petal by petal
then the leaves too must die

such is the temporary nature of our meeting
so beautiful yes
so brief indeed
and no dew of time must ever be wasted

till we meet again
i will always be the sun and you shall always be the
flower unfolding
to such a marvelous complete blooming

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Falling Petal

It starts to grow in the morning dew
The beauty it shines through and through
Until one-day it is fully grown
Being grateful its seeds were sown
The flower has blossomed and it stands tall
But sadly it knows it soon will fall
For right now, it is so proud
And in the shade, it does not shrowd
For something that was once a beautiful flower
It now just withers and in a corner it cowers
It used to bloom in the light of day
Hoping its beauty will always stay
But now winter is here and the beauty's no-more
And the future of this flower has nothing in store
When the winter snow begins to settle
Thats when you see the first falling petal

poem by Jane Allan
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the Falling Petal

poem by Shirts Williams
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The Flower of Love

'Tis said the rose is Love's own flower,
Its blush so bright, its thorns so many;
And winter on its bloom has power,
But has not on its sweetness any.
For though young Love's ethereal rose
Will droop on Age's wintry bosom,
Yet still its faded leaves disclose
The fragrance of their earliest blossom.

But ah! the fragrance lingering there
Is like the sweets that mournful duty
Bestows with sadly-soothing care,
To deck the grave of bloom and beauty.
For when its leaves are shrunk and dry,
Its blush extinct, to kindle never,
That fragrance is but Memory's sigh,
That breathes of pleasures past for ever.

Why did not Love the amaranth choose,
That bears no thorns, and cannot perish ?
Alas! no sweets its flowers diffuse,
And only sweets Love's life can cherish.
But be the rose and amaranth twined,
And Love, their mingled powers assuming,
Shall round his brows a chaplet bind,
For ever sweet, for ever blooming.

poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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The Last Rose Of The Fall

Her pink petals strewn upon the grass beside her mother tree
In full bloom a thing of Nature so beautiful to see
Where the gleaners of Nature's decay grubs, slugs and insects crawl
Last week she looked so beautiful the last rose of the Fall.

So bare and thorny looking without her leaves and flowers
The rose tree looks forlorn in the cool Autumn showers
Next Summer again pink roses she will wear
The rose tree in bloom has a beauty that's rare.

The beauty of Nature is seen Worldwide
In town parks and gardens and in the countryside
And Nature herself she lives on every shore
The one destined to live forever more.

For the gleaners of Nature who live on decay
The beautiful rose petals on the grass lay
But the rose whose life span can be measured in hours
Her fate it is not any different to ours.