An old bee in retrospect among the fresh flowers?
['I had three chairs in my house; One for solitude, two for friendship and three for company.']-Henry David Thoreau
Is this the same old garden?
But a juvenile gardener
watches there
and variety of fragrant flowers!
I am just an old guest
with this tattered satin coat
and they do not pay any respect?
I remember the bygone days
How Roses were shivered
When I hummed and roamed around
And Daisies humbly worshiped
when my strong wings fluttered.
O the old age is sad & wearied
and nobody wants to pass a friendly smile
withered flowers too quiet and don't know why?
Anyway, I do not keep any grudges
That I can promise though you ignored?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society.
quote by Henry David Thoreau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The garden is my weeping heart
There is no fertilizer at all
But they grow without any quarrels.
Flowers in different colors
And varieties of fragrance.
I have no fence and restrictions too.
Birds, bees, butterflies and hornets idle.
Some trespassers with strong hands,
Sometimes very cruel.
Please do not pluck in that way as it's painful
And let the flowers wither.
One day I have to abandon the garden
As my soul takes wings.
But you find another gardener there.
* Spring comes and goes, yet comes again.
What a wonderful shuttle the nature is?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Flowers In Your Garden
you are telling me that the flowers in your garden
must not be of one and the same kind
or else there will be so much boredom
you are telling me the need of variety:
roses and jasmines
and suntans and daisies, colors and scents all in multiplicity
as you talk your eyelashes curve a little lower than i expected
and your mouth twitches a little bit just to show your dislike
and contempt of the word:
boredom
unnecessary uniformity, that human need of variety
equated with a taste for something new
and even unusual
i completely agree with you.
Let me take you inside my heart
where my garden lies:
flowers of different colors and scents
i have grown them all inside my heart,
feelings of love and
desire, in a variety or sorts
in a diversification of breeds
and if by now you ask me and demand
that i may tell the truth
inside my heart, in my garden of love, you are a very beautiful flower
so sweet scented and well loved and cared by me
but there are other beautiful flowers growing in there,
you are not
just the one and only, as you would like to think
that to be
and i will tell you again,
I agree with you, there is a need really
for a variety,
the one that removes the word
boredom
from the beautiful garden of our vocabulary.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why you so inquisitive of my whereabouts?
My night school's still dark
and the road I walk
Tar always black!
On the way,
I see rare night flowers,
They too have pearly white teeth
when they smile?
O the white Goddess
as passing clouds.
The white board in the gloomy class
Colored teacher writes on
with a piece of black chalk
A poem to recite;
'When forget-me-not
covers the old pauper's graveyard
Everybody thinks
It's the garden of Eden?
But in cruel Autumn
When the flowers withered
It's still the pauper's graveyard? '
[ From Father have I my stature,
my zest for earnest living;
From little Mother
my gay nature,
My love of story-telling.]-Goethe
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Double Red Daisies
Double red daisies, they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes—but no,
I root them up because they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
Double red daisy, that’s my mark:
I paint it in all my books!
It’s carved high up on the beech-tree bark,
How neat and lovely it looks!
So don’t forget that it’s my trade mark;
Don’t copy it in your books.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
poem by Robert Graves
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Old Horticulturist and the disturbed flowers
I know that you all have special likings and regards to the young gardener
Because he pours water day & night.
Behind the scene I am the Master
Who designed the garden,
But not shown any gratitude these proud flowers for my generosity.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A little angel who sings beneath an old bachelor's little sick heart
Thank you my dear little angel
Sing little louder please
As my hearing is little weak
Like the fragile little heart.
I remember once
I too sang my sad song
With my little companion viola,
Low pitch in solitary parks.
But angels were not seen
Those days.
Yes, my lost youth full of songs
But nobody knows
And only the withered flowers
Just smiled with a teardrop
In their innocent eyes
But I was little scared of unnecessary taboos
And left behind!
* I humbly dedicate this poem to my silent poet friend Dave Tanguay who resides in Florida!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Undocumented Immigrants' melancholy song fades in the serene sky?
We're the Roses
We're the Tulips
We're the Daffodils
And we're all the flowers?
But not attached to the uprooted plants
And we've no a legal soil?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A seedling's vigil
Am I ugly or lean?
My cruel gardener pour me
little water and fertilizer.
Because I don't smile with him.
But I know one day
when I grow up and bloom
definitely a handsome bee will arouse
and crave my aromatic love.
for anonymous flowers.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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unkempt illiterate flowers along the Varsity avenue?
This is an off season
But the tiny flowers
in bloom!
An undergraduate
who desperately drowns
in their smiley tears?
dedication to a dreamflower that never blooms in a real garden!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Teacher's daughter
We love each other
in the garden of love!
But you touch that fragrant flower
secretly my precious mother!
Is that a dream or reality
Knows only gardener!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A flower asks another beautiful name for her?
Poor Gardener
Why you collect
my withered petals
among the leaves
in your book of heart
that I have never seen
in the garden of love!
*A humble dedication to the poetess Sridevi I always adore her writing style!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Brief Letter To A West Virginian Hospital!
I send you fresh flowers,
A breeze non-polutted
Hope for tomorrow
And a friendly smile,
You see when you wake up in the morning
To a better World!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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
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The broken nest
The parents built it nicely
And I saw the gooey clay
They've plastered well inside
for their comfort.
But the nestlings
flew away in the serene sky
without leaving a trace
When their wings were strong enough.
O the old parent birds were looking into the sky
for their goodwill return,
But their sad chirping
Do they hear?
[Love is a friendship set to music.]-E.Joseph Cossman
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My Mother's Garden
My mother owns a beautiful
garden of flowers
Where I linger watching them
bloom for hours,
My radio on, Katherine
Jenkins singing, 'The Flower
Duet'
I could explain this like a
picture but I am no poet,
Alas let me try; butterflies
showing off their colourful
wings,
The garden also has an oak
tree with hanging swings-
Roses, daisies, jasmines,
violets, hazels, the divine
camillias-
Flowers so beautiful, their
reflections more lovelier,
As the Sun appears to bud from some petal,
I breathe my first, my heart
falls off its mantle
And in the core it once lay yours takes its place-
The light of the smile that
radiates from my face...
Many wish to see angels, sirens at sea,
But I have seen you, thats all I need to see.
Isunge Mwangase © March 17,2011
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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Knock over
I feel embarrassed.
I have sailed almost fifteen years
but I never had a nostalgia as today.
If I can borrow a pair of old wings
from a friendly bird,
I promise you to give whatever you want.
I just want to fly home and come back
definitely I'll return your wings.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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No lullabies since you all left the roost?
Scattered leaves
drift on the pond
and play with ripples
Mother tree stands!
Alone she whispers;
'Never mind they get real freedom now
The whole year they stuck with me.
And I hear the faraway thunderstorm
with her usual singsong.
That won't take a long time to bring me down
O this poor weak & skeleton!
[It's time we had uncommon schools, that we did not leave off our education where we begin to be men and women.It's time that villages were Universities.]-Henry David Thoreau, Walden.
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Gardener
The gardener does not love to talk,
He makes me keep the gravel walk;
And when he puts his tools away,
He locks the door and takes the key.
Away behind the currant row
Where no one else but cook may go,
Far in the plots, I see him dig
Old and serious, brown and big.
He digs the flowers, green, red and blue,
Nor wishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
And never seems to want to play.
Silly gardener! summer goes,
And winter comes with pinching toes,
When in the garden bare and brown
You must lay your barrow down.
Well now, and while the summer stays
To profit by these garden days
O how much wiser you would be
To play at Indian wars with me!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Thanksgiving
It's a holiday
People sit down together
Give thanks and blessings
Each other,
They talk about joy and grief of bygone days.
Though it's a holiday for us,
Some brothers and sisters
Stuck in the battlefields
And when they get their vacation?
Some disappeared on 9/11
Without saying a Goodbye.
May happy and peaceful flowers bloom on this land of opportunity!
And they can sniff the fragrance of humanity
On this precious day.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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