She Does Not Talk
She does not talk
To me any more
And does not look
At me
Just
Strolls about
All day long
With downcast eyes.
Today
I saw her
In the sunshine
Crouching
As only she can
With gentle hands
Touching
A flower stalk
And talking
To the petals.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Related quotes
You”re Still You
The same hair curling on your head
At 49, you look younger,
There are no wrinkles on your forehead
The cheeks still smooth and tight
Your eyes still glow
Like fireflies reflected in the mirror
The moon against the sky
The way you talk defies the years of your absence
The way you look at me
Your way your gaze flies like a butterfly
Hovering back to me like tender hands
Of a woman
Caressing my face
Like golden yellow wing
Fluttering on the petals of a flower
Indeed, you are still you
Loving me
In gentle restraint and
I am deeply saddened
By my own kind of same
Usual indifference
Of the clouds drifting
Without even the thought
Of stopping by the
Peaks of trees
As you open yourself to the sun like
A tight bud opening its petals
Finally exposing its true gentle colors
A flower blooming
To the kindness of sunshine
And the freshness of the air
That this world can offer
I spread my wings like a yellow butterfly
Fluttering away to another garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Endless verse of a nameless flora:
A lonely lovely girl was Standing at her breeze filled balcony,
her adorable heart was admiring the quiet moon in harmony,
a golden yellowish nameless flower fell on her feet,
the sweet perfume of the fallen flower blended with that chill breeze,
while she tried to hold the flower the petals they fell one by one,
she was holding just the stalk that was left alone,
tear drops that escaped from her eyes fell one by one like the petals,
she was holding someone's sweet memories like the stalk.
The moon wished that her love should blend with her love like the perfume in the air.
poem by Vimal Kumar N
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Because Youth Is A Flower
because youth is a flower
that blooms only once
one must be kind to use
hands which are gentle
a flower is fragile with
petals and sepals and
stalks not strong enough
to withstand the demands of
time
the flower that blooms today
tomorrow shall die
each moment is crucial
each bloom cannot last forever
the flowers of my youth
if well taken cared of
shall proceed with its fruits
and its seeds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Wish I Were a Flower
Oh I wish I were a flower
A most beautiful flower
This is my dream
With the gentle breeze
In the springtime I will
Hop out of my earthen bed
Listen to the sweet
Chirping of the blue jays
Singing me love songs
Standing tall waiting
For kisses from Heaven
To rain down on me
When you come by
I will smile
Knowing someday-
I will brighten your home
With the sun
Stored in my petals
Later with the warmth
Of the golden sunshine
I will open my petals wide
Waiting for my love-
The honey bee
To come and savour me
For how much blessed
Could I ever be than
To be a beautiful flower
A most beautiful flower
For your enjoyment
For your pleasure
poem by Rachel Nichols
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The White Flower
THE WHITE FLOWER
A white flower opened its petals
to reveal a golden centre – so laden
with pollen –
Just then a gentle breeze passed
and
the flower opened its petals
and the gentle breeze wafted
its resin onto the bodies
of some young girls and boys
who were playing naked by a pond
until their skin glowed golden.
HJB 1990’s
poem by Helen Bauman
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Self-forgetfulness
....Gentle smooth touch
Of flower petals,
Swallowing the kiss,
An angry buzzing bumblebee
Fluffy and painted
Like in a thousand colors
Leaving the pollen
On the fingertip,
Inhaling the pollen
For tasting the flower,
Sitting in that field of daffodils,
Yellow daffodils,
For dreaming love
Until self-forgetfulness,
For waking up,
The dew shining on the leaves,
The breast caressing,
Tasting the milk,
Caressing the skin,
Long hair touching
The increasing beard
And the flower flavor,
Flooding the mouths,
While kissing
And bearing all these....
poem by Marieta Maglas
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A Realization Of Two Things
a bud is better
seen on top of its stalk
even when it has
already bloomed
completely
it is still nicer to
see the flower stuck
on its stalk
even if it has already
wilted
it is still nicer to see
it on its stalk
even when the stalk is gone
the flower is still there
and it is nicer still
to imagine it
untouched by any human
hand
only nature
only nature has the power
to take it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Flower Shivers
The flower withers,
Dying today,
The flower shivers,
Wasting away,
A useless soul,
An early death,
Becoming cold,
Fade in stealth,
The flower dries,
The petals fall,
The petals lie,
The living stall,
Death of a cough,
Why thrive on?
You cannot slough,
You cannot run.
poem by Maddy Jones
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Of Flower And Bud
said scattered petals
'i was a flower y'day! '
wind blew them away!
said today's bud
'i'll be a flower tomorrow! '
dream floating in eyes!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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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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It Is The Details, Be Aware, And Then Be Creative
he could not believe you
when you enumerated all the parts of the flower
what he meant perhaps was only a petal
how it smells at six o'cock in the evening
when you are with him but you said, in all completer
scientific details as follows:
the flower is made of its:
1.Petals are used to attract insects into the flower,
they may have guidelines on them and be scented.
2.Stigma Is covered in a sticky substance that the pollen grains will adhere to.
3. The style raises the stigma away from the Ovary to decrease the likelihood of pollen contamination. It varies in length.
4.Ovary This protects the ovule and once fertilisation has taken place it will become the fruit.
5. The Ovule is like the egg in animals and once fertilisation has taken place will become the seed.
6.Receptacle This is the flower's attachment to the stalk and in some cases becomes part of the fruit after fertilisation e.g. strawberry.
7.Flower stalk Gives support to the flower and elevates the flower for the insects.
8.Nectary This is where a sugary solution called nectar is held to attract insects.
9.Sepal Sepals protect the flower whilst the flower is developing from a bud.
10.Filament This is the stalk of the Anther.
11.Anther The Anthers contain pollen sacs. The sacs release pollen on to the outside of the anthers that brush against insects on entering the flowers. The pollen once deposited on the insect is transferred to the stigma of another flower or the same flower. The ovule is then able to be fertilised.
he could have been sad. He wants the poetic sense of things
not the scientific, realistic approach
to something, like a flower,
the symbol of his love for you.
You busy yourself, without feelings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Hope I Am Just Like You
i know
that you will be reading this.
This is thinking about man's capacity to quit.
TO dismiss what he grows inside his heart.
He was talking about the stalk of the fruit.
His end like the sap. The white sap
of the stain of the stalk of the fruit
the banana stalk giving off the
white sap from its stalk
cut off by the sharp bolo
when it ripens
he is talking about the mouth
and the last spit of the saliva
rabid. The dog finally goes off the street
and bites everybody.
I am bitten. And i have no last word to say.
There is no reason to quit.
everything ends. There is such thing as
a natural death.
soon it will come. I am waiting.
I try to tell you that there will be an end to this.
It is obvious. Too obvious. Like sunlight
to my forehead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
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The Telephone
'When I was just as far as I could walk From here today, There was an hour All still When leaning with my head again a flower I heard you talk. Don't say I didn't, for I heard you say-- You spoke from that flower on the window sill- Do you remember what it was you said?' 'First tell me what it was you thought you heard.' 'Having found the flower and driven a bee away, I leaned on my head And holding by the stalk, I listened and I thought I caught the word-- What was it? Did you call me by my name? Or did you say-- Someone said "Come" -- I heard it as I bowed.' 'I may have thought as much, but not aloud.' "Well, so I came.'
poem by Robert Frost
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Talk 'Bout the Sunshine
Talk 'bout sunshine...
I am Waiting Overly midnight to keep light's of my only alive
and how the dark
keep my eyes wide shut
talk 'bout sunshine...
It's gonna strums The ever bloom of my heart,
strings upon your line.
and nothing can wind it out
talk 'bout sunshine...
The light softly wrapping between the breach n m0ving in into the house i built...
gives some picture i always dreaming on
Talk 'bout sunshine...
It's the dawn i'll get my page finished..
the script with no words,
but filled by emotional wave that could storming none soul but us
talk 'bout sunshine...
i'll spare the all of my nights to keep u save from harm..
n pray for the sun to strangely rise
talk 'bout sunshine...
Is talk 'bout my only one to concern..
my beauty of the most..
my heaven and my hell..
my diam0nd n my sins..
Talk 'bout sunshine...
Guess it still my half way,
coz the moonlight's still dancing around mystically
and keep you shaped as silhouette..
and all of a sudden, i found my self l0st into the misty n rainy days of night
poem by rivaldi Prasetyo
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Sunshine And Flowers And Your Way Of Loving
susnhine, spreading sunshine, warming my face
spreading this warm caress to my body, my shoulders,
bathe
take the basins of sunshine in the cups of your hands
feel
close your eyes and feel the sunshine falling in your hair
running to your ears
then open your eyes
to the blooms of flowers, the roses and daffodils in the garden
where a chair is there
where you sit
looking at me, beside you, bathing to sunshine, closing my eyes
feeling the warmth of the gazes of your eyes, the pulse of your wrist
the palm
your hands running
slowly all over me,
sunshine and hands and eyes closing
opening to dazzling color and closing again
to the thoughts of love
of you always loving me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Clumsy Hands
Life blossoms, from only a tiny rosebud,
A beautiful flower that is God's perfect design;
I tried to be gentle, to unfold the dainty petals
With these clumsy careless hands of mine.'
'The secret of unfolding the delicate flower
Is not known to numerous people such as I.
I opened this flower with love as power,
in my hands they tattered and emotionally did die.'
'So I couldn’t unfold God’s elegant flower,
As The aweosme design collapsed, within hours
Sadly, shocked, I realized, I lost all my wisdom
To enjoy the happiness of the earthly kingdom
Now the rugged path that lies before me
To unfold the moments of peace within me
Which is Covered with unseen pain around
God blessed me with many a friends so sound.
Uneasily the flower will blossom, with time again
God will not retire, let it be sun or pouring rain
Now each moment of my dawning day
God's Stars, silvery don’t fail to shine my way......
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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This Flower
This Flower
This flower with petals so soft to touch
Cradles nature's portal
Where waves rise
and sweet ambrosia falls
This flower with petals so delicate and refined
Lay at the entryway of an open vessel
Waiting with a velvet whisper
to be filled with the seeds of nature's life
This flower with petals so tame and silent
Begs the onlooker to experience it's hiddenness
And after one look, one taste
She has caught her prize
1 April 2008
The Flaw
I remembered last night.
I told the child
that that was not blood
on our friend's body,
only red flower petals
all wet from the rains,
and to be quiet,
or we would wake him up
and ruin the special dreams
that come from sleeping
under red flower petals.
There is a flaw in the face of man
called war
that begs the question:
does the memory of the dead
hold up the living?
Perhaps sleeping
under red flower petals
will cause me to forget about it.
poem by Rebekah Gamble
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Automation
a seed that falls to the ground
from a dead, rotten fruit
cracks its covering and
sprouts
a tight bud soon
from a stalk opens up to become
a full blooming flower
with petals proud and
dignified
and so must you girl
be the seed and the bud
and be the full flower that you can be
in full automation
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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