I Am About To Sleep
darkness comes
it is routine, nothing is mysterious about it
and as usual i am about to sleep
but you are there knocking at the door
of my heart
bringing me a bouquet of vowels
looking like petals of the
blue flowers in the desert
i let you in and i take the bouquet of vowels
and shower it
sprinkle it
with the salt of my tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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My First Bouquet
He brought to me a sweet bouquet
that sparkled in the light.
I touched the hand that picked the flowers,
daisies all so white.
When he left I held them close
afraid that I might cry.
If only I could keep them
and never let them die.
But tears that flow
and flowers that grow
can both be dried you know?
Thinking of this brought a smile,
never a falling tear.
My first bouquet would last forever
inside pages I revere.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bouquet
He brought to me a sweet bouquet
that sparkled in the light.
I touched the hand that picked the flowers,
daisies all so white.
When he left I held them close,
afraid that I might cry.
If only I could keep them
and never let them die.
But tears that flow
and flowers that grow
can both be dried you know.
The thought of this brought a smile
and never brought a tear.
My first bouquet would last forever
between pages I revere.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The big political news, Arnold Schwarzenegger announced he's running for governor of California, and already, people are chanting, 'Four more vowels, four more vowels.'
quote by Craig Kilborn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose Bouquets
I lay down
frilly covered
bouquet still
at my side;
lovely gown
arrayed
I lay down
rose petals all around
my arms at my side
my groom
outside
murmuring.
I am prepared
for this my surrender
or this my consummation;
this my mistake?
The Unknown?
The Alone?
The Bride.
Where do virginal brides go;
they hide in the rose petals
and wait.
I plucked a rose from
my bouquet-
gathered my
wits
and sat up on the bed
to walk to the door
to greet
my new husband;
face to face.
Bride I thought,
should stand up
because marriage now
means
more that courting;
marriage here begins
true partnership;
meet him at the door.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Danish Language
With vowels and consonants
like English or Cebuano
but with ø, å and æ,
strange vowels to read
What is seen or read
is not the same as heard or said.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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A Return Of A Raw Memory
Destiny and Fate played with my memory-
Comin' round' to my back door-
Knocking-knocking-knocking...
Bringing back my days of yore;
All of my memories came flooding-
To back when Fate and Destiny became one...
Back to when you and i where like the endless blue sky...
A couple who shined as the Sun;
We were all that glittered as Gold...
We were all that mattered way back then-
Together as one we shown as the Sun...
Destiny and Fate are playing with this memory again;
Gone are the smiles that finally came 'round...
After our most bitter good-bye...
I was so over you-once we were through...
That i had nary a tear to cry;
But Destiny and Fate played with my memory-
They came 'round to my back door...
Knocking-they just kept knocking...
Bringing back all of our days of before;
Now the tears are coming...!
In remembrance of our once endless blue sky...
Storm clouds are forming over it...
And the Sun has disappeared upon high;
Gray clouds now cover the Firmament...
And my tears they fall as the rain...
Destiny and Fate have had their way-this day-
Leaving my heart and soul in endless pain;
poem by Theodora Onken
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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
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Life Giving Force
the earth is a bouquet of flowers
it bears good news
adam bears good news
adam is a bouquet flowers
he is earth exemplified
life giving force of earth
which inch of earth has
not really teemed with life?
those who had passed away
are in the flowers, in the trees -
standing tall
adam is a bouquet of flowers
earth exemplified
the beauty of its life giving force
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Subterranean
My tears fall like rain
From the longlasting pain
When I look at your eyes
My heart just dies
Beauty divine
I hope you'll be mine
Open your arms
For all time
All dressed in white
Bringer of light
Spend time with me
All through the night
Beauty divine
Your tears taste like wine
Come to me
For all time
My spine shivers with the touch of your lips...
My pale skin turns red when we kiss...
Piercing your nails deep into my back...
As I slowly kiss your ivory neck...
I started to cry after hours of joyful sin...
My tears turned to roses as they embraced your skin...
I gathered them to a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers...
A bouquet of the most secret and ancient powers...
My amber heart started to glow as I died really slow...
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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
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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
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John Ballard
In the lust of my strength
I cursed God, but he paid no attention to me:
I might as well have cursed the stars.
In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resolute
And I cursed God for my suffering;
Still He paid no attention to me;
He left me alone, as He had always done.
I might as well have cursed the Presbyterian steeple.
Then, as I grew weaker, a terror came over me:
Perhaps I had alienated God by cursing him.
One day Lydia Humphrey brought me a bouquet
And it occurred to me to try to make friends with God,
So I tried to make friends with Him;
But I might as well have tried to make friends with the bouquet.
Now I was very close to the secret,
For I really could make friends with the bouquet
By holding close to me the love in me for the bouquet
And so I was creeping upon the secret, but --
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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A Desire To Taste A More Appetizing Flavor
Within a split second,
A decision to pick happiness over grief...
Will free one shackled,
To a belief that a routine kept...
Will ensure a healthy mental outlook.
And that 'someday' someone not yet known,
Is going to come knocking on one's door...
With a delivery of a bouquet,
Gift wrapped in floral scents.
And packaged with an assortment of chocolates!
These scenes might be witnessed on TV.
But an active participation in one's life,
With a desire to taste a more appetizing flavor of it...
Is going to require more than a wish.
The likelihood of someone walking down the sidewalk,
In one's neighborhood...
Making announcements,
Of what is available with choices to make...
And who's name with preferences is on list,
Is as remote as a stranger offering to pay one's rent or mortgage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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
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Watching
I watch his mouth move,
his lips;
they hypnotize me.
They are sensuous;
alive in their movements
I like the way they
form vowels;
the top one curls
with the word 'so'
form vowels
like 'oh' deliciously;
and the bottom one
to pouts at me
both open softly
his white teeth showing.
He says
'hummmm'
and they rest
one atop the other
soft sound vibrating them
on their fleshy palette..
I remember best
those lips
pouting outward
slightly
saying 'I do'
I remember his lips
saying 'I do'
at the wedding.
I 'll always love those lips
Still do.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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As I Plant A Bouquet
“But can I feel the
salt in her tears
stinging my skin
I wonder aloud...”
sridevi data (2010/08/22)
And as I let my fins
brush the water’s edge
my mermaid’s mind
begins a tune
with shimmering ripples
of the sea
making sweet sound like a sitar
as I watch the glowing
sea anemones winding waywardly
around the bed-rock where I sit
waiting for the choir
of blue dolphins
in the heart of the sea
only to echo in this moment
the rhyme and rhythm
of my handsome mariner
as I plant a bouquet of sea-shells
upon my dark and curly hair.
poem by Leonard Dabydeen
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For Courtney: With Wings
This morning,
at about ten after eight,
eyes still aching
from all of those tears,
I stand at my office window
and look out
at an impossibly orange sun
climbing into
a blue celebration of sky.
In the background,
the haunting beginnings of Carrickfergus:
aching flutes and yearning pipes
calling,
beckoning my heart
to yours.
And in this moment,
hands in the back pockets
of worn blue corduroys,
squinting through a salt-stained window
on the last (and much welcomed) Thursday
of a sad and sadder January,
I see
(or seem to see)
drifting through my soul (and yours, sweet child)
a pale bouquet
of Emily Dickinson's feathers.
You, the eternal bruise and brilliance of my heart.
You, the memory that whispers endlessly
of wonder and wings.
Good Morning, Court.
Thank you for coming.
January,1999
poem by Will Thomas
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Wedding
The bell ringing,
The happines bouncing,
The choir singing,
The priest blessing,
The prayer enchanting,
The vow echoing,
The tears pouring,
The ring exchanging,
The people gathering,
The champagne bursting,
The sprinkle showering,
The hand bouquet flying,
It's yr wedding,
Aisle is the beggining,
And grave is the ending
Wish u happiness- ever lasting
For HH Jung & Anuradha
poem by Niken Kusuma Wardani
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