If
The guns turn into bouquet of
Flowers;
The tanks-
Cream-rolls;
The mortars, shells-
Chocolates,
The bayonets-
Ice-creams
Battlefield-
Cake;
Politicians' hearts-
Roses...
Country-
Only one.
War?
Never!
The poet dreams..........
And will be dreaming
Ever!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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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Always There Is More To Life
life is not
a box of chocolates,
it's a bouquet of
flowers
colors of delight
scents of desire
so light
to the heart
it is what i hold
for you
in my hands
life so full of
flowers
but always there
is more to life
we feel it
when the bouquet is
finally thrown to the
air
and another one
expectant holds
it dear
someday
life will be different
a tree full of fruits
at night
fireflies in
freedom to shine
their own
lights
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bouquet and Bracelet
Bouquet said: “My floral ring
The homage of a heart encloses,
Whose thoughts to you go worshipping
In perfume from my blushing roses.”
Bracelet said: “My rubies red,
Though hard the gleam that each exposes,
Will last when flowers of Spring are fled
And dead are all the Summer roses.”
Beauty mused awhile, and said,
“Here’s poesy!” and sighed, “Here prose is
Bouquet! I choose the rubies red!—
In Winter they will buy me roses.”
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Of The World.
Brutal mutilation
World abomination
This is where your soul will come to die
Your corpse will rot in hell
Taken, from the battlefield
On which you fell
The war in which you fought
The round of ammunition that you caught
Caused by,
Politicians holocaust.
Shells exploding
Rounds rolling
A-bombs dropped from the sky
Killing a city,
County,
Country
Destruction of the world
And we just stand
And watch it die
poem by Mark Horsfall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Is A Box Of Chocolates
love is a box of chocolates,
white chocolates,
milk chocolates,
dark chocolates,
mixed chocolates,
each chocolate gives you a different experience.
poem by Keelie Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Songs of the Lathes
The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a man that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
The cranes and the carriers they boom over me,
The bays and the galleries they loom over me,
With their quarter-mile of pillars growing little in the distance--
It is good for me to be here!
The Zeppelins and Gothas they raid over us.
Our lights give warning, and fade over us.
(Seven thousand women keeping quiet in the darkness!)
Oh, it's good for me to be here.
The roofs and the buildings they grow round me,
Eating up the fields I used to know round me;
And the shed that I began in is a sub-inspector's office--
So long have I been here!
I've seen six hundred mornings make our lamps grow dim,
Through the bit that isn't painted round our sky-light rim,
And the sunshine through the window slope according to the seasons,
Twice since I've been here.
The trains on the sidings they call to us
With the hundred thousand blanks that they haul to us;
And we send 'em what we've finished, and they take it where it's wanted,
For that is why we are here!
Man's hate passes as his love will pass.
God made Woman what she always was.
Them that bear the burden they will never grant forgiveness
So long as they are here!
Once I was a woman, but that's by with me.
All I loved and looked for, it must die with me;
But the Lord has left me over for a servant of the Judgment,
And I serve His Judgments here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a son that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Unsold Bouquets
the remaining bouquets
the flowers are still fresh
but this late valentine night
they look particularly
bare of hope for a sale
three bouquets on a table
that have become too big for them
during the day, there were
so many of them
one over the other
a city of eager lovers
head over heels
in choosing of the best roses
to convey their feelings
to their fancied
flowers, blooms, blossoms
their grace, fragrance and
semblance of intimacy
won the day for the
hot blooded men who wilted
in the face of transmitting
their innermost thoughts
to their new loved ones
so many of his hearts went
into the girl's when she
acceped his bouquet
so many of his lovelorn nights
turned into nights of hope
now a girl in a condominium
still carries a dream to have
that sweet bouquet from
her secret love
a three-year dream
a bouquet a year
that's three bouquets
three bouquets that sit
on a big vacant heart
longing to be bought
longing to be given away
longing to fill up a lonely heart
giving her life the colours she longs for
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faded Red Roses
She stood at the alter
A gown of white she did wear
With a bouquet of red roses
And blue ribbons in her hair
She waited for someone
Who was never to come
Tears leaked from her eyes
Across her cheeks did run
The bouquet of red roses
For her wedding day
Have all now faded
As time slipped away
Those faded red roses
She still holds in her hand
Years have come and gone
Waiting for this man
You’ll still find her
With tears in her eyes
As the hopes he’ll still come
Fade like the roses
Washed too much by the sun
Today she still waits all alone
Those faded red roses in her hand
Is now all that she owns
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem For My Wife
there is no card for you
or a bouquet of red roses
no box of chocolates
no phone call no text message
on this day
what you will have is me
and all the days of our lives
together hand in hand
every moment
from the first union
till we last
till we are gone and have
nothing anymore to cherish and remember
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Answer to Lost Roses
A lady received a
bouquet of roses,
It was a windy day.
A gust of wind caught
the roses,
Blew them all away.
They were tied with
yellow ribbons,
But they could not hold,
The story of lost roses,
Somehow it must be told.
Your dream ended too
quickly,
How was you to know,
The lady receieved the
roses,
They were covered with
layers of snow.
They found a place in
her heart,
It was hard to let them
go.
But she had to release
them,
To the wind, they had
to go.
To help dry up their tears,
They had to find their
way,
So they could be happy,
Laugh again some day.
Who was the sender with
a heart sublime,
The lady still awaits,
A bouquet of roses devine.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cream Of Life Is One Dream For Which You Live!
Dreams are cream of life,
Dream always and never stop dreaming,
Dreaming ability,
ability to materialize dreams, can make one unique,
When the dreamer breaths dreams,
Dreaming is not bad,
One Right dream, one right effort,
Remember all successful dreamers were full of enthusiasm and curiosity,
Being curious about facts,
Cures all ignorance,
Enthusiasm opens all possibilities,
A careful and mindful dreamer shines like a star in this world of fast sleepers,
And when awake are action packed heroes!
Eat a little, sleep little,
sing the saga of success with successful dreams,
No matter one's contribution to humanity may be so little
Make one here free,
When dues settle
Cream of one's dream For which he live
Meditation is that life itself,
Who works every instant for that dream!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bouquet Of Roses
A BOUQUET OF ROSES
When greeted by a bouquet of thirty roses
on the anniversary day,
A mixed feeling rose within, and I didn’t
know what to say!
But I thanked the Lord for that special day!
For long I had developed an attitude towards
roses you know,
As I watched its thorns and reddish glow!
When painted like the ‘Sunflower’ they neither
die or fade, -
A visual feast for the eyes, while olfactory nerves
remain dead!
Roses like humans when cut off from their
roots,
They gradually wither and fade, as roses should!
But its lingering perfume forever remains,
As I inhale, - I am wafted beyond the world of
the dead!
- Raj Nandy
- New Delhi
- 12 Feb 09
Freedom Dont Turn Your Guns On Me
politics, heritics,
selling opium flavored lies.
here come the tanks,
backed by the banks!
get in line or die!
unlawful detain, torture retrain,
and the bodies disappear.
our bill of rights
adorned with Christmas lights,
we face our greatest fears!
freedom dont turn your guns on me!
beat down, pushed around, still free.
take my job, not my dignity!
freedom dont turn your guns on me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dreamer's Poet
Dreamers dream
dreaming that
all their dreams are dreams;
and is reality then multiple-shaped
or itself a dream?
If dreams are things not real or true
or don't yet exist
then what does it mean for dreamer to
act upon the dream and bring it forth
into reality?
Was the dream just reality
not yet existent;
in waiting so to speak?
Or was it live
always there
waiting to be discovered?
Seems to me
this is much like a poem;
how the poem comes to be-
unless, of course,
the poet
is a dream too,
outside reality
paradoxical conundrum
don't you see?
And more:
could it be the Dreamer's Poet
in dreaming thus
creates the Poet
and the Poetry
both of which
become Reality
Thus?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Duet
'FLOWERS nodding gaily, scent in air,
Flowers posied, flowers for the hair,
Sleepy flowers, flowers bold to stare----'
'O pick me some!'
'Shells with lip, or tooth, or bleeding gum,
Tell-tale shells, and shells that whisper Come,
Shells that stammer, blush, and yet are dumb----'
'O let me hear.'
'Eyes so black they draw one trembling near,
Brown eyes, caverns flooded with a tear,
Cloudless eyes, blue eyes so windy clear----'
'O look at me!'
'Kisses sadly blown across the sea,
Darkling kisses, kisses fair and free,
Bob-a-cherry kisses 'neath a tree----'
'O give me one!'
Thus sand a king and queen in Babylon.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Among the Red Guns
Among the red guns,
In the hearts of soldiers
Running free blood
In the long, long campaign:
Dreams go on.
Among the leather saddles,
In the heads of soldiers
Heavy in the wracks and kills
Of all straight fighting:
Dreams go on.
Among the hot muzzles,
In the hands of soldiers
Brought from flesh-folds of women--
Soft amid the blood and crying--
In all your hearts and heads
Among the guns and saddles and muzzles:
Dreams,
Dreams go on,
Out of the dead on their backs,
Broken and no use any more:
Dreams of the way and the end go on.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coloured Roses
As we stood solemnly
looking down at that deep hole
each of us tears held in our eyes.
We bowed our heads
and a prayer to say
when someone placed a bouquet
of coloured roses on the ground
before they buried you away.
A stranger whom we did not know
smiled and serenely said to us
that these flowers represent their life,
and what they gave to us.
Red roses for the blood
that pumped around
a kind and generous heart.
Yellow roses for the smile
that they gave us
whenever we were around.
Blue roses represent the colour of their eyes
that looked at us softly when they were alive
and for the feelings, we feel within our hearts today.
Orange roses represent the sunset
beyond where they have gone today
and where we hope to meet with them again someday.
White roses for the eternal light
we all must pass though one day
and the purity of spirit they wrap around us each day.
Purple roses for the mourning cloak
each of us wear at times like this.
Theses colours represent the rainbow
wrapped around each life.
Your loved one has not left you
but passed through to the next phase.
The stranger then looked around
smiled serenely again at all of us
then slowly faded away.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield.
quote by Douglas MacArthur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanks for the flowers and roses
Thank you for the flowers and roses
The message reverberates
For the flowers and roses you sent
Everyone tells story
of happy moments we spent
as we walked down by the beach
Holding hand in hand together
Exchanging sweet kisses and affection
Getting splashed by the little waves
as they crash and hit the shore
Your red roses you sent
they are special remembrance to keep
For your warms hugs
for the lasting joy
When you held me tight
on the beach sands
Looking into my eyes
dreaming and gazing to the sky
poem by Sherif Monem
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A War Flower
They took all the flowers
and taught them how to shoot guns;
the tulips learned to emit poison gas
and the roses, my god the roses
were used to hide the blood stains
on the carpeting.
It was war;
all out war they said
and everything had to be used
because all was to be used
to ensure ultimate victory.
Dead trees were gnawed at the center
and taught to toppled themselves on unwary Geraniums marching.
The Lialics laid down hand grenades
in front and in the back of enemy Orchid buds.
The outcry against: 'flower power' was immense
'an atrocity' said many
but it did not stop.
Pigeons and dolphins learned to carry bombs;
dogs became spotters for sniper's guns;
elephants trampled the flower beds
and marched with; the infantry.
All of nature bent to war's intent
and paid the ultimate price on bloodied battlefields-
the flowers going straight to funerals-
no need to send remembrances
since
their fresh flower carcasses were already present
bullet ridden and bleeding.
So every tree, animal and plant
was used to disembowel the ecology-
misshapened and bent to Foul Intent
in the grey dawn
cracking-
artillery shells smoking and spent
bullet casings strewn about;
dead flora
dead fauna;
haphazardly arranged dying flowers
their petals weeping.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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