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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Reminds Me Of You
A bunch of dead flowers, kept in a vase
And its all that remind me of you
Why do I keep them, well might you ask
Theyre all that remind me of you
Two seperate people, two seperate ways
And I hope they may pass again
Withered and dead like, your love for me
And theyre all that remind me of you
Once fresh and green now no, honey for the bee
Theyre all that remind me of you
A bunch of dead flowers kept in a vase
And theyre all that remind me of you
Why do I keep them, well might you ask
Theyre all that remind me of you
Theyre all that remind me of you
Theyre all that remind me of you
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zen and the art of plastic flower maintenance
From time to time, when
I’ve been meditating, and
these things matter, I pick respectfully
the plastic flowers from their vase,
wash the vase, wipe the dust
off the leaves with a moist cloth,
dip the flower-heads in water
as one would give someone
a holy bath
and then replace them in
a slightly new position in the vase,
a slightly new position on the table.
absurdity and
something beautiful
have met and got along together rather well.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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
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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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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
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The flower vase
Flowers are there to invite bees;
They aren’t there for you and me
To pluck and bring them to our vase
Or make essence out of them, mind.
21.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A sombre romance
A sombre romance
~
Dying flowers in a vase
Mindless routines becoming motions
Without a thought of feeling
Carrying on for the sake of it all
A kiss cold to the lips
What this house has seen in our time
Were these walls to talk
How they would speak about
A sombre romance
The bottles of wine shared
Over a film and Chinese
The tiring pretence
That things are as they were
That nothings changed
New flowers daily, smaller bunches
Forced into a crowded vase
Nothings new anymore
Even this old pretence
Why we keep denying the inevitable
That even the walls know
This sombre romance
Has seen its day
poem by Matthew Holloway
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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
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Artificial Flowers
Artificial flowers to me are out of place.
You put them in your home
in a decorative vase.
They have no scent.
They look unreal
and collect too much dust.
Artificial flowers I suppose
are better than none.
But I'd rather have a petaled stem
even if it was just one.
A rose, a lily or violet
breathe like you and I.
Artificial flowers don't
even know how to die.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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When All Is Quiet
When all is quiet
And not a human in sight
I think of your precious vase
Carelessly broken by me
Again
But then
You thoughtfully remind
Me with a smile
That it was not the last
Or only one
For that resides
Within my heart
Pouring water that flowers
Each flawed part
To start anew
Such is the love
You have for me
And I for you
poem by Harriet James
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Consuming jealousy
I am jealous of the air you breathe,
of the soap that cleanses your body,
I am jealous of the rain that pours on
your face, and the sun that warms your
winter days, I am jealous of the way
you love the flowers and the vase they
wear, I am jealous of the sheets your
bed wears, that can touch every part
of your body, I am jealous of the mirror
that sees your face every morning day
and night. I am jealous yes I am, even
when you let my winds fly free and they
traveled to many seas, I am still there
facing my awe, consuming my flesh,
and my body speaking a language I can't
even comprehend, like a dark rose, that
lies on an empty vase, what do you do?
when the live you had, is gone and the
one you were living for, what is
there left? where do you go, what
doctor can cure the injured heart, doctor
love is just a tale, there's no cure for
the injured heart, nor there is for an
empty vase.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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flowers For Sale
'Flowers for Sale'
the sign did say
amidst this glorious sun-filled day.
And as she sold them one by one
a little dimmer became the sun.
The daffodils, the hyacinths
and pansies in colors aglow
had been her prize posessions
as she watched them grow.
But why should she see beauty alone?
Is it not better to share what's grown?
And as she saw each patron's face
she pictured her flowers in a vase
in a home, on a porch or portico
as her flowers for sale all did go.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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
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Anniversaries
for all
the things that we both know
we don't talk about them
we start talking
about those that we pretend we do not know
you choose the words
like the way you put the right flowers in a vase
at the headboard of the bed,
and i choose the words not to hurt you
we do not look at each other's eyes
we refrain the touch
of the hands
you leave the flowers there
and i look to another direction
there are things that remain
to be done
we ought to
and then the flowers wilt
nights come and go
and then the following morning
we choose again
words, flowers,
we continue
not talking about what we already know
i guess
this is the only way how we can survive
the travails of marriage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Piece By Piece
Sitting on a corner street
Children playing at my feet
See the smiles on ice cream faces
Feel myself begin to sink
As the wind blows though my skin
Leaves me open to temptation
Cause nothing ever lasts forever
Were like flowers in this vase together
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Killing me now its so hard to breathe
Sucking back a cigarret
Thinking about new regrets
Trying to be someone youd like to be
Passing faces on the road
Where the hell can we still go
Leaves us open to temptation
Cause nothing ever lasts forever
Were like flowers in this vase together
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Killing me now its so hard to breathe
Its so hard to breathe
But its worth fighting for, its still worth fighting for
Its worth fighting for
Cause nothing ever lasts forever
Were like flowers in this vase together, you....
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Its killing me now its so hard to breathe
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Its killing me now its so hard to breathe
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Lovely Flowers
inside the vase
there are three lovely flowers
delightful accents
this morning when the sun
arrives
by the window
i do not wish to be a butterfly
neither a bee
i simply want to be plain
water.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart Is A Vase
A heart is a vase
Love is a flower we put in the vase
Passion is the water for the flower
But romance, respect, trust, and commitment
Is the sunshine that makes the flower bloom
(2011)
poem by Michael Ernst
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Ode To A Crystal Vase
Oh the sparkle
from the cuts so clean
make by yourself
an exquisite scene.
But when you are holding
the flowers I choose
It's then that your charm
can then confuse
the onlookers who must make their choice
and exclaim aloud
with their voice.
Ah! the beautiful
flowers I see
or that vase
is really extraordinary.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Vase Built With Love
For Melvina Germain
Who suggested I write something about a simple vase.
A vase stood on the mantle piece
and two red roses within it stood
one for each heart for whom the vase belonged.
A century before on a potter’s wheel
the vase was carefully crafted by two loving hands
then fired in an oven to keep the love within.
It was then decorated with the same loving care.
The images on it told a story
of two lovers parted by a war.
It told how they had met down a leafy lane
and how their love had grown.
Then came the thunder of an approaching war.
It recorded their last kiss together
before the war tore them apart.
It also told of the years of agony
of waiting for his return,
then of the joys of reuniting,
and how after so long
their love began again to burn.
All this lovingly painted
so everyone could learn
that love never diminishes
even when separated by a war.
18 October 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Vase
the vase where
your flower is put
is filled with
mosquitoes
do you still want to
put it there?
in this lousy metaphor
my body is the vase.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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