Envy Not Her Flowers
envy not the flowers
that bloom in her garden
red roses
taking the colors of blood
the roots
unadulterated pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Rainbow Garden
I have a Rainbow Garden
For inside of it you’ll see
Every color you would find
What a rainbow ought to be
The blue is for Forget-me-knots
Yellow for Daffodils
Red is for my gladiolas
My flowers are such a thrill
Green creates the many leaves
Of my Rainbow Garden too
I get such peacefulness
I would love to show it to you
My roses, oh I have many
My palette of color shades
I must enjoy them daily
For the time for them will fade
So if you’re feeling weary
And you don’t know what to do
Plant flowers of all colors
And have a Rainbow Garden too!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Venus in the Garden
'Twas at early morning,
The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,
When in a sweet, embowered garden
She, the fairest of the goddesses,
The lovely Venus,
Roamed amongst the roses white and red.
She sought for flowers
To make a garland
For her golden head.
Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,
In that sweet garden close,
Offered incense to the goddess:
Both the white and the crimson rose.
White roses, red roses, blossoming:
But the fair Venus knew
The crimson roses had gained their hue
From the hearts that for love had bled;
And the goddess made a garland
Gathered from the roses red.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Garden Of Roses
My garden of roses is dead
All the most beautiful flowers have wilted
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Like my love and my nurturing was nothing
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Nothing but dust in the wind is left
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Everything's gone and I feel so empty
And now the winter is here
poem by Triin Kann
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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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When The Roses Bloom Again
When the roses bloom again,
I know that spring is here.
When the roses bloom again,
love will fill the air;
hearts will start to flutter
like a small bird on the wing.
Voices from the rooftops
will once again begin to sing.
When the roses bloom again,
to my loving arms you will come.
I will feel the warmth and tenderness
of your loving embrace.
When the roses bloom again,
everything will be as it always was.
The perfumes of a new day
will fill my world with love,
and all this will happen
when the roses bloom again.
26 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Look at the hands striking the clock
You time has emerged
A young dawn like grass of midnight
Blood born in veins through the poppy pain
Will bloom like the roses in your garden
Those roses for which you know
Are hearts transplanted of a moment choked
They open up to you in a smile
They leaf alike call your hands into the growth
And you by the window
You who hasn’t lost the hearts as yes
You cry into the night
With the time cracking from behind a built in panes
Towards you
Why
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Love Aches
Have you ever craved the waves of flowers perfume
That float in the garden of roses under the moon sheen loom
They come and go whence no one knows at night gloom
As spring renewed his reign in colors and in splendor bloom
Thoughts of sadness wave and sail in my mind
They come and go leaving memories of pain and agony behind
Like that keen fragrance in the garden, born on the wings of soft wind
And yet none of the flow of thoughts is soft, soothing or kind
But in the instant the thoughts of air remain
To ignite the memory I knew of laughter and of joyful pain
Of times unlike now that will not come again.
The mountains of aching thoughts the earth under heavy clouds of rain
I try to catch and subdue my mind of these many tunes
Like tears of light fallen from the forlorn moon,
Flattened, scattered and bright on a dark lagoon,
Where high reeds lull and sway by echoing duns
But my mind is dissolved under such bare
My anguish floats away, I am too timid, for who can hold
The pain of Youth, the perfume of a flower or a moon so bold?
Where one can ask the strength to dare?
Winter Sunset
Roses in the sky,
Roses in the sea
Bowers of scarlet sky-roses
Take my heart and me.
God was good to make,
This December weather,
All this sky a rose-garden,
Rose and fire together.
To the East are burning
Roses in a garden,
Roses in a rosy field,
Hesper for their warden.
Yonder to the West
Roses all afire,
Mirror now some rare splendid
Rose of their desire.
Pulsing deeper, deeper,
Waves of fire throb on,
Never were such red roses
At sunset or dawn.
Roses on the hills,
Roses in the hollow,
Roses on the wet hedges,
In the shining fallow.
West wind, blow and blow!
That has blown ajar
Gates of God's great rose-garden,
Where His Angels are,
Gathering up the rose-leaves
For a shower of roses
On the night the Lord Babe
His sweet eye uncloses.
All the sky is scarlet
Flaming on the azure.
O, there's fire in Heaven
My heart aches with pleasure.
Leagues of rose and scarlet,
Roses red as blood:
All the world's a rose-garden.
God is good, is good.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Rose Scent Danger Perfumes The Air
behold bloom of blood red roses sing
bud was tight intensity feeling growing
bloom was red petals wonder spreading
roses sweet full bloom entice mystic heaven scent smelling
fresh youthful complexion jasmine tears silk sheen waxing
sharp thorns do pierce blood prick conscience world relaxing
snow dusts rose bushes stripped bare in judgements pending
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Less’er Love, And A Rose, In My Garden
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…at times I have lesser love
And in less is more, very much more
…………….and there is this garden
..the garden, ours by the Grace of the Life Force, supreme God
..there is this Rose, and those Roses there… all chose a place to be
I, the Gardner choose the blooms from which Rose goes to the glass next my bed
I love this Rose, and less but similar those other
….they decide when to bloom
In sping late winter their souls weep, as I sheer, as I must
In spring and summer and early winter we rejoice as they bloom abundantly
…..every night one bloom from The Rose that’ad also chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…..only one Rose reads to me… I a lesser Gardener
Lesser, cause I’m only able t’love one Rose…..this Rose here
….those Roses there, some’r lessor Roses, some’r superior Roses, are my friends
Lesser in texture, shape and fiber and fragrance
Some superior in texture, or shape and or fiber and or fragrance
Friends equal in dimension with the Rose, but less in love than the Rose
…..every night one bloom from The Rose, that’s chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I, the gardener…. I prune, sheer…. at times
These other Roses who chose my garden
...so valuable in a muchness o’ Friendship,
…the quality their love much the same as that The Rose
Different the lesser my love, even though my caring equals that towards The Rose
We are blessed, those of us in the garden
…the magnificence of this garden in my life is the sumtotal of you all in my garden
I drink your fragrance intoxicated with love
I love The Rose, and my friends these other Roses in the garden Bless this love
poem by Johan Fourie
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Blood Red Roses
Blood red
The roses she'd
Always received
Blood red
Blood red
The sole chroma
Of her world
Blood red
Blood red
Spurted out from
His thorn-like barbs
Blood red
Blood red
Her anguished life
Assiduous
Blood red
Blood red
Her favorite
Shade of roses
Blood red
poem by Alice Vedral Rivera
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I Will Buy You A New Life
Here is the money that I owe you
Yes so you can pay the bills
I will give you more
When I get paid again
I hate those people who love to tell you
Money is the root of all that kills
They have never been poor
They have never had the joy of
a welfare Christmas
(yeah) I know we will never look back (yeah)
You say you wake up crying
Yes and you don't know why
You get up and you go lay down inside
My baby's room
Yeah I guess I'm doing okay
I moved in with the strangest guy
Do you believe he actually
Thinks that I am really alive?
I will buy you a garden
Where your flowers can bloom
I will buy you a new car
Perfect shiny and new
I will buy you that big house
Way up in the west hills
I will buy you a new life
(yes I will)
I know all about that other guy
The handsome with athletic thighs
I know about all the times before
with that obsessive little rich boy
They might make you think you're happy
Yeah maybe for a minute or two
They can't make you laugh
No they can't make you feel
The way that I do
I will buy you a garden
Where your flowers can bloom
I will buy you a new car
Perfect shiny and new
I will buy you that big house
Way up in the west hills
I will buy you a new life
I know we can never look back
Will you please let me stay the night
No one will ever know
I will buy you a garden
Where your flowers can bloom
I will buy you a new car
Perfect shiny and new
I will buy you that big house
Way up in the west hills
I will buy you a new life
I will buy you a new life
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Beautiful Garden
A blooming garden
The Garden of Eden.
The flowers grow.
Where butterflies go.
Rainbow colors.
Hot summer showers.
A butterfly lands
On lass's hands.
True Human To Serve
Garden as such looks so beautiful
Different colors with flowers plentiful
Each one smells differently and spreads the fragrance
No one can notice how and which one does it at once
To bring them together and show it as one
The fragrance doubles power and presents as unique one
With one show whole environment is like perfume
As if hatred has disappeared and loves only to consume
Can we not act as garden flowers to smell?
With different culture, races and tolerance to tell
To brethrens all over world that yes we stand as one
So far human blood is concerned we can be separated by none
We shall act, cry and suffer together
But not yield to any division either
We want no more pathetic shows
As we feel their presence to grow
No matter what we profess
It hardly caters the need to resurface
We shall take care of ourselves
Behave as true human and serve
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Red Suntan In My Wife's Garden
she keeps cutting the stalks of the red suntan
as i watch with disdain
since there will be no more suntan flowers
to view this bright morning in the garden
she notices my obvious disturbing action
and she comes with a clear reaction
saying they must be pruned regularly
for them to give more flowers for the day
it is more like the way God prunes us
albeit there may be pain and even bleeding
but that's the best way for more flowering
the secret to the blooming is in the cutting
and then i ask myself deep in my heart
i must have caused her so much pain
since she has bloomed so well in fact
like the red suntan flowers in our garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring Flowers
O THE rare spring flowers! take them as they come:
Do not wait forsummer buds—they may never bloom.
Every sweet to-day sends, we are wise to save;
Roses bloom for pulling: the path is to the grave.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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They Are The Ones That Others Envy
I have issues with people who leave people...
Begging on the streets with nothing to eat.
Or treat others like they're not even human equals.
And then look disgusted like they are diseased
No human being can teach a cat hygiene.
Nor can you teach a grown up to be clean.
Nobody should be teaching who to respect.
That should be a given and not a pick to peck.
I have issues with the snots with turned up noses.
As if they have scents of champion roses.
Ooo I can't believe these people are the ones who stink.
And-they-believe,
They are the ones that others envy?
Who made them runner up for fresh sainthoods?
Who showed them evilness was anything good?
Who gave them rights to think they beam like light?
And who told them they approve the Sun that rises high!
Yes I have issues with the snots with turned up noses.
As if they have scents of champion roses.
Ooo I can't believe these people are the ones who stink.
And-they-believe,
They are the ones that others envy?
They believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
And they believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
They believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
And they believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
I have issues with the snots with turned up noses.
And they believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
I have issues with the snots with turned up noses.
And they believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
And they believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
And they believe,
They are the ones that others envy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Planted A Seed
I Planted A Seed
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Monday, April 26,2010 @ 1: 22 AM
I planted seeds and watched them grow
Each day I fertilized, pesticide, and watered the seeds
Weeds couldn’t strangle my seeds I made sure
They flourished in fertile soil gaining strength by the day
I tended my garden daily without fail
At night I made sure comforted they were
Kept them safe from the elements to flourish
Strong they grew so proud I was of my seedlings
Exquisite blossoms grew from the seeds I sow
Blessed was I my garden full of life and magnificence
Gracious flowers from seeds bloomed respectfully there
Rare colors of light bloom in my plot
Flourished flowers came and went in seasons due
Now fully mature they need tending no more
Their colors now turn a pale winter blue
Scornful now my flowers turn a shadowy brown
Fields I no longer tend dry from disuse
Efforts made gallantly on unappreciative ears they are falling
Ostracized be by flowers lacking in devotion
Buds turned left the farmer to burn in summers heat
One seedling still cares and is always there
Never far fledged the one daffodil looms
In shadows bloomed now to a spectacular delight
In sorrowed fields once a daffodil is now in full bloom
In loving care suffered they not from abandonment
Tender the care giving for the farmer was driven
Success was a must for crooked the journey was laid
Apples of my eyes for I planted seeds and watch them grow
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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The Wind, One Brilliant Day
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses.'
'I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead.'
'Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.'
the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
'What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?'
poem by Antonio Machado
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