Flowers Take Your Bow
Seeds are being planted
Many hopes are being made
In a sleeping bed
Through beauty, they are craved,
In a gentle row
Graceful as they grow
While pushing through the dirt
With help from mother earth,
Reaching towards the sun
Colors shine so bright
Living from the love
To become mans greatest sight,
A beauty that is so close
Performing in a row
Expecting but a smile
For pleasure, is all they know,
Swaying in the wind
From a gentle breeze
As angels fly overhead
To protect, what we do see,
For a garden is a garden
But a flower is so much more
To open the eyes of man
By opening a hidden door,
Flowers, take your bow
That's been so long overdue
Friend, to man and child
Teacher, to me and you,
Swaying in the breeze
Living off the sun
As angles fly overhead
To protect, mans greatest love.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trees
Trees, please me
To sit and watch them grow
As from a seed,
They do breed,
And from the Earth and Wind they grow,
Reaching up towards the clouds
And swaying in the breeze,
It always makes me feel so proud,
To sit, and watch a tree.
Earth is the Father,
Protecting his precious child,
While Mother is Nature,
Giving protection from the wild.
Trees, please me
Living from a seed,
Living in awe,
And growing so tall,
Entertains both you and me.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman
In my eyes, as my eyes being but two
Their is nothing more beautiful and
exciting as a Woman true.
GOD has created His flowers and his trees,
But in my eyes He never really created
until He created Woman.
She with hair as long as the grass
blowing in the breeze.
She with eyes as bright and deep as
the sun awaiting for me.
Eyes that can search a mans soul for
his woe, and feels it with happiness.
She with a smile as a rainbow arriving
after the storm.
The smile and rainbow many men had
searched for, so to feel our soul with warmth.
She with a body and walk as an Angel,
That stops mans breadth in His lungs.
She with the gift of life, that gives an old
man the right again to feel young.
She with a scent of Her own that no one
but Her owns.
As the rose and dewdrops has their own
she has hers, but alas theirs can be owned.
GOD created the flowers and trees, and all
the beauty of this world.
And I know I wouldn't be alone when I speak.
Take your leaves, and take your trees.
Take your rose, and take your snow.
But I beg of you GOD please, women to me, leave.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Planted A Flower
I planted me a flower
Though my friends say a weed
In my garden from a forgotten seed.
So I planted it deep
And around it I hoed
So someday my flower would grow.
But my flower never came
From the sunshine or the rain
That GOD placed above its head.
And so my friends would just laugh
Every time that they would pass
My garden, my plant and I.
Gardeners were them all
As though they have been called
To bring beauty upon our sight.
And a gardener wasn't I
Just a poet in disguise
And for that reason I sat and cried.
More care to my plant I gave
And more affection to it I showed.
While praying one day my flower would grow.
And my friends would just laugh at me
When they saw me on my knees
And to my flower when they heard me speak.
To ignorance they did blame
Its a weed they would exclaim
Then they would walk away.
For a madman I must be
Trying to create a flower out of a weed
Then I would bow my head to weep.
And every night that I went to bed
I dreamt of a rainbow in my head
Which was my flower I planted with my own hands.
And every morning when I awoke
I ran to my garden, but I was torn
For my flower was still unborn.
And I could hear my friends laugh at me
Hidden behind an old oak tree
And I could see them shake their heads and walk away.
But then came one magic morning
When in my head my dreams were forming
While in my garden, my dream, had awoke.
I awoke, to gasps and jeers
I arose, to shouts and cheers
Then in my garden, I walked in bitterness and fear.
Then I saw a rainbow with a halo
I saw my friends with a child's glow
And then I heard the wind, as she softly spoke to me.
You had faith in a weed,
A weed, had faith in you.
And nature, had faith in you two.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wildflowers
The fragrances of wildflowers
are now a pleasant memory.
I close my eyes and picture them
still swaying in a gentle breeze;
but when I open them they’re gone
and where they once had smiled at me
there’s barely evidence to see
their beauty once had flourished there
in kaleidoscopic colors.
Their absence only bears to mind
that beauty last the briefest time
and one day when they reappear
my aging self will not be there
to sniff their bouquets from the air.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom
Butterflies are free
To sail the breeze
To wonder up in the sky.
To float around
With natures sound
To live, and float and then die.
Flowers are free
Along with the trees
To grow upon our Earth.
With their beauties to be seen
To fulfill Mans dreams
That is their greatest worth.
Birds are free
Like the fish in the sea
To sail upon mighty waves.
To sing their song
To swim their quests
I wish I could, as I pray.
Man Isn't free
Though He wish He could be
To grasp life by the hand.
To reach for the Stars
And not knowing, “Too Far! ”
But sadly, Man is but Man.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Weed
There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.
The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send
the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.
Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.
The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.
But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.
She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.
The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Just You
Beauty is a leafy tree
And the gentle breeze that moves it
It's the swelling of a saphire tide
As the graceful fish swim through it
Beauty is both common and rare
It goes right to the core
It lifts you up above the clouds
And leaves you wanting more
It's a gentle ray of sunshine
It's a smile that makes you weak
It's the pitter patter of raindrops
It's the words of love you speak
The most perfect beauty of all
Is raw and bare and bruised
It's the beauty when I close my eyes
And all I see is you.
Blowing Of The wind
I felt the blowing of the wind
As it enters my soul from deep within
It entered my soul, and wouldn’t let go
It is the wind from where life begins.
The wind, she is known by all man,
And from whomever sits or walks or stands
For the wind is known, when she has blown
And when she is silent, the world is alone.
The wind, it is mans friend
As I journey through the world of men,
She strengthens my soul, and she wont let go
So upon her breath, I will forever hold.
The name of the wind, I will call her friend
As she enters my breath, from deep within
She surrounds my soul, and takes a deep hold
And I pray that never will she not let go.
She is the breeze, I do believe
From the steps I walk. and from the air I breathe,
When she touches my face my sorrows are erased,
For she is the wind, the mother of the breeze.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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May I Turn You into a Beautiful Flower!
May I turn you into a beautiful flower!
More beautiful than it sounds, in the garden;
No wind shall turn you pale, with its power,
Your beauty covering it, as a shield and hidden.
The roses have a beauty, for them to bow,
And the children pose a charm, for them to pluck.
A flower so pure and gentle to touch, a dove,
And the others, decline to shine and duck.
A flower in the hair of the princess of the castle,
That the jewels in her crown and her heart shall envy.
And as long as my eyes can see, and my heart can beat,
So long shall you shine, as the beauty, as this flower.
©Anees Rahman
poem by Anees Rahman
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Jesus At Midnight
Jesus walks at Sunrise,
I wrote that once before
Through the clouds in his shroud
With tears, in his eyes.
For He stands, still searching
For the beauty that He made
But now it is gone, forever gone
For now it is Mans waste.
Jesus walks at Sunrise,
To survey the things He knew
But gone are the trees,
And the grass so green
And the peace, that once did soothe;
For the beautiful land that GOD made
It has all been erased,
And the sky above, which flew his dove
Is now filled, with Mans waste.
Jesus walks at Sunrise,
I wrote that once before
As though to be proud,
Of the beauty he brought out
As creator, and maker of our World.
He came to see His mountains
And His rivers and oceans so blue
The land so green, and air so clean
And watch the Eagles as they flew.
Jesus walks at Sunrise,
I wonder what does He see
The hate all around, and Mans ugly sound
From all of mans own disease.
But now Jesus's beauty is gone
Revealed through GOD's own sunlight,
And that I won't deny
And a tear for man I will cry,
For now Jesus, walks at midnight.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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September Afternoon
How lovely was that autumn day,
That late September afternoon
When the sun was high in a cloudless sky,
In an ocean of heavenly blue,
Just a gentle breeze to stir the leaves
Of the garden trees, while the hum of bees
Was soothing to those who lazily dozed
In the shimmering heat that made you believe
It was really July, and only the apples
That lay on the lawn made you remember
It was now September. The mallow flowers
Were still in bloom, and butterflies
Like handkerchiefs around them fluttered
Then flew across to the buddleia bush
With its bountiful nectar-rich blossom
And now and again a quarrel broke out
When the garden sparrows chirruped and chirped
And feathers flew, but it didn’t last
For peace like a blanket floated down
While overhead the swallows swooped
And turned and wheeled in graceful flight.
Such light and warmth and teeming life
Uplifts your heart, makes your spirits sing
So glad to be a child again
At home in the bosom of good Mother Earth.
poem by Pete Crowther
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Would Do For You
The Mother looks into the eyes of her child,
With the love that is so deep and true
Then she hugs her child and loves her child,
And says, “ there is nothing that I would not do for you”.
She loves her child more than she does herself
She’ll places her child above all others
For the child she would die, And not even ask why,
As the child is hers, and she is the mother.
She knows she’ll will always be there for her child
No matter the pain or a reason why,
Just to see it smile or hear it laugh
It is the greatest joy that a mother wont hide.
She will follow her child throughout her life
That being the reason why she says she lives
The love is so great for a mother and her child,
That there is nothing that she would not do or give.
She thinks of her child constantly when she is alone
She knows no pain or discomfort when the child is near,
She is only here to make her child happy and wise
While hoping never to bring her child a tear.
I now look into the eyes of my wife,
The woman who I love with a love so deep and true,
As a mother loves her child, a man he loves his wife
And with her in mind I say, “ there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you”.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Margaret
I KNOW a garden where white lilies grow,
Under the grey sweet-laden apple boughs;
It is a garden where the roses blow,
And honeysuckle covers half the house.
O happy garden, do you keep the vows
Breathed in your quiet ear beneath the rose,
Or do you tell the tale to each soft wind that blows?
Across your grassy paths she used to stray,
She moved among you like a living flower,
Her beauty drank your beauty every day,
Your beauty decked her beauty every hour.
You gave her rose and lily for a dower,
With all sweet flowers and fruits your bosom bore--
She took them all--and now she comes not any more.
O garden, if you breathe such secret things
To the south wind who loves you, tell him this:
To spread the scented softness of his wings,
And seek that other garden where she is,
And bid him bear no blossom and no kiss;
Only, dear garden, tell the wind to say
How grey the world is grown since Margaret went away!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Am He
I am he,
Spoke the acorn to the tree
Said the flower to the seed
Replied the wind to the breeze
And standing up in awe
Stood an oak tree standing tall
And below his roots did lie
The acorn who did cry
That I am he.
Like the wind who fathers the breeze
Or the flower, who nourishes the seed
To grow up and be like he
I am he.
I am he said the father to the sky
And the stars in the night
To his son that he held
To become like himself
And I am he.
I am he
Said the raven to its young
And the bear to its cub
And the wind to the breeze
That I am he.
And looking up in belief
Lied an acorn from a tree
From which that it had fallen
Knowing he had been calling’
To be like he.
So, I am he
Like the father is the child
And the flower is the seed
The raindropp to the sea
I am he!
And he is me
Replied the oak tree to the seed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Joy Oh Joy (from, Even Though There Are No Reasons)
Oh joy oh joy come here to me
With a morning coming in a song
And set my wings a little free
In rising freedom to cherish among
O love my love let me awake
Where the water is crystal clear
And find the breeze by the lake
With the time of sweetness’s air
Flowers give their blossoms sprung
And bouquets of colors to shade
In living green and seedlings young
Each garden of joy in summers made
Where love is freedom without haste
A living art that gives its pleasure
With every tincture of nature’s paste
In every unfolding we must treasure
Enjoy your freedom in summer's time
Of colors fulsome and youngish look
When growing is giving of its prime
Each day a garden like an open book
Where nothing remains in the same
Of joy to take from to give and bring
Every new morning in its fresh flame
Endlessly to admire and by joy to sing
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Sunshine Hue
Sunshine hue, sunshine grew
Shines its rays on me and you
Sunshine light sunshine bright
Not a dark cloud close in sight
Sunshine thrive sunshine grow
Sweet healing rays on all your tribe
Sunshine healing, sunshine show
The pure essence of our being
Sunshine parade, sunshine displayed
In its fractionised barricade
Sunshine tranced, sunshine danced
Gave our souls such sweet romance
Sunshine dove, sunshine above
Thanks for your sweet rays of love
So sun kissed and pure sun bliss
Sunshine blocks out all the mist
So sunshine mellow sunshine yellow
You’ve made me a lucky fellow
There is a garden where very few
can roam, not very far from home
Come closer, I am alone, just now
Go past cobwebs glistening like silver
Come closer, you're the rose
I want the most to go through
My garden of ice and snow
Blooming with rich fragrant roses
Velvety black, blue and red
Each with perfume of love
As I sleep below the roses
Loneliness has reached my skin
I need the love that ebbs and flows
Just a sip from your succulent nectar
Shall free me from this small pain
Dig deep beneath the thorny layers
And free me from your heart
That we can share the midnight hours
and know how I hunger and thirst
Just a shield me, protect me
And this shall will give me power
To become a loved once again
Without it I will fade away
I'd rather have roses on my table
Than diamonds on my neck
Where flowers bloom so does hope
Each flower is a soul opening out to nature
Perfumes are the feelings of flowers
The world is one giant rose
Smell it and pass it onto your friends
When bright flowers bloom
Parchment crumbles, my words fade
The pen has dropped...
Flowers are love's truest language
I will touch a hundred flowers
And never pick one, none
They are not long, the days of wine and roses
Out of a misty dream our path emerges
For a while, then closes within a dream
There came a time when the risk
To remain tight in the bud
Was more painful than the risk it took
Blossoming flowers are the sweetest things
Ever made and forgot to put a soul into
It is at the edge of a petal that love waits
Pure as any one of you
Who can estimate the elevating and refining
Influences and moral value of flowers
With all their graceful forms
Bewitching shades and combinations
Colours and exquisitely varied perfumes
These silent influences are unconsciously felt
Even by those who do not appreciate them
And thus with better and still better flowers
Will the earth be transformed, man's thought
Refined, and turned from the base destructive
Forces into nobler, more simpler production
One which will lift us to high planes of action
Toward the happy day when the angels
Of all this beautiful work is more acknowledged
Loved with many richer grains
Better fruit and fairer flowers from this earth
For myself I hold no preferences among flowers
So long as they are wild, free, spontaneous.
Observe this dew drenched rose garden
A rose today, tomorrow and yesterday
It was the dust, the sunshine, and the rains
Which I first saw, or desired to see, the flower
In the cherry blossom's shade
There's no such thing as a stranger
The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers
The dreams are as beautiful in friendship
Fragrant garden, there are flowers of every hue
Each with its own fair beauty and its gift of joy
None can have a healthy love for flowers
Unless he loves the wild ones freely
White blossoms slowly float down
Dancers in the wind as everything has been
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room
To my way of thinking
But even on solitary little vase
Home of a living flower may redeem it
Thought of before, in the hope
Reaching the moon, men fail to see
The flowers that blossom at their feet
Who would have thought it possible
That a tiny little flower could preoccupy
A persons mind completely
There simply wasn't room for any other thought
Let me show you the sweet smell
A delicate whisper behind the vision
Gardens are drunk from roses
And it is my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes
Flowers leave their fragrance
In the hand that bestows them
We gathered the wild flowers
There seemed one pure delight
Through the field we roamed
There seemed one pure delight
Silently a flower blooms
In silence it falls away
Yet here now, at this moment, at this place
The world of the flower
The whole of you is blooming
This is the talk of the flower
The truth of the blossom
The glory of eternal life
Is fully shining here
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room, to my way of thinking;
but even on solitary little vase of a living flower may redeem it.
There grows the flower of Peace
The Rose that cannot wither
Do not the petals flutter down
Just like this?
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened and into the rose garden with all the flowers of all the tomorrows are in the seeds of today, every flower about a house certifies to the refinement of somebody, every vine climbing and blossoming tells of love and joy and stories yet to come…
poem by Char Pattrick
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Gardner of beauty
Your beauty is like that of a Gardner tending to his flowers making life more beautiful with each day you tend to them. I could only wish to be one of your flowers in your garden and hope to feel your gentle hands as you would tend to me. Your beauty is to me as rain is to a flower, giving it nourishment for life. your beauty is my rain and it makes my love grow for you like that of the flower. Your loving soul is that of Gods warmth coming from the sun to a flower. Your love is my sun and feeling it's warmth to the touch it makes my soul grow as the flower would on a summer day. How I ask to be your flower and you be my gardener of life.
7-1-09
poem for my wife
poem by Timothy Honeycutt
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The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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My Garden
I tilled my garden until my back did hurt
Then I planted the seeds into the earth
I covered them with the sweet, sweet dirt
Excitedly I will wait for their summer birth.
I will watch and feed them every single day
Row upon row as they are laid
I will protect them by keeping predators away
And I will remove the weeds that has strayed.
I will visit my plant's every morning when I awake
And I will stay with them till the time is late
Not any of my plant's could I ever forsake
They are part of me and they are my fate.
I gave them my sweat and I gave them life
Daily I will check their growth and enjoy their sight
They relieve my tension and help with my strife
When my day is done, to them I will say goodnight.
poem by Randy McClave
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A Living Dream...
My dance of life is rythmical, a living dream...
Gliding through the meadow the moonlight illuminates my smile.
The long grass and sweet meadow flowers caress my thighs.
My head raised expectantly to greet the gentle breeze.
The salt air kissing my lips as it drifts from the ocean.
My dance of life is melodious, a living dream...
My emotions soar high as a gentle breeze moves my hair.
Diamonds of dew sparkle on the intricate webs of spiders.
I am blessed by the gifts that mother nature has given me.
I move steadily onward to my ultimate destiny.
My dance of life is poetic, a living dream...
I seek to attract your attention as I glide sprite like through life.
Each senuous movement designed to catch your eye.
Calculated, erotic, wild with abandomnent.
Seeking to share with you the beauty of peace and love...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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