only in the Philippines...
against the M-16s of the
30-year old dictatorship
were the yellow flowers
the petals in full bloom
toppled the iron cannons....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To A Sacred Place
on the last day of June all the petals have fallen on the ground
but there is a hill in the place of sanctity where flowers begin to bloom
i am walking up there to see this diversity
when the petals go and leave no trace
when in another place flowers bloom without our notice
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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400 ~ Bloom
Just begins to bud,
a rose,
holding hopes and fears
behind
black-red, velvet-soft petals.
Startled by a bright, new world,
it opens,
revealing petals of humility.
Blushing, growing,
opening as it becomes
accustomed
to beauty in light.
Proud color spreads wide across,
full bloom,
not as dark as at first,
glowing
from light that has filled it.
This rose can never die.
As love,
It can lose color, wilt, fade,
but in the mind,
the rose
will forever be in bright, full bloom.
This rose stands a symbol,
to time.
What has occurred to arrive at
now?
All the bloomings have led to one bright bloom,
this rose.
As someone has made me bloom,
she is
beauty and
light. Changing
my colors, releasing
my fears,
I owe her much, love
will never die, like
the glowing bloom of this,
a rose.
poem by Stan Pelfrey
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A Golden Shower! ! ! ! !
Scattered by the broken string, bent to pick the beads.
You stood with some in cupped hands, did you my thoughts read?
Led me gently to balcony, to show Laburnum bloom.
Clusters of bright yellow flowers watch them with awe, droop.
Yellow petals formed a carpet, underneath the tree
You said its called golden shower, from far one can see.
The breeze carries the flowers, away from the loose bunch,
Just like my beads got separated, and I sat hunched.
I forgot about my rosary, as we stepped in the avenue.
Your nearness and fragrant air, tears blurred the view.
Careful not to crush the blossoms, lying on the grass
We strolled hand in hand, exchanging a glance…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The Flowers Of May
the children are picking
the flowers of May
as offering for the
Immaculate Mother
the flowers only bloom
once a year
to meet such an instant
fate
of bloom not reaching
the 30th day
tradition does not think
that much.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wild Daisies
They are Nature's natural survivors though they seem so dainty and small
And they bloom in all Seasons and weather In Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
With yellow hearts and snow white petals the wildflowers everybody does know
Even on the coldest days of Winter they bloom in the shade by hedgerow
Wild daisies distinct from all others the flowers everyone recognize
They close their petals to the night air and open their hearts to the sunrise
Even in the coldest days of Winter the wildflowers one often does see
So dainty looking yet so hardy they always do look disease free
When I was young in depths of Winter they bloomed in the fields far away
The very same species of wild daisies I see in the town park today
They must have been around forever the hardiest of little wildflowers
They even bloom in the coldest of weather in the sleety and wintery showers
They are Nature's natural survivors the poets their praises do sing
They bloom in all Seasons and weather Summer, Autumn and Winter and Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When The Flowers Bloom
when the flowers bloom
do not wait
till they wilt
their petals falling
on your feet
do not take much of the time
witnessing such death
for at the end
of this cycle
when all the petals have fallen
and what is left to see is just an empty sepal
and a very lonely stalk
you shall be reminded of your own
you shall be next, the season waits
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Primrose
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole--
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks--
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the flange of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree--
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes--
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Graves
I dreamed one man stood against a thousand,
One man damned as a wrongheaded fool.
One year and another he walked the streets,
And a thousand shrugs and hoots
Met him in the shoulders and mouths he passed.
He died alone.
And only the undertaker came to his funeral.
Flowers grow over his grave anod in the wind,
And over the graves of the thousand, too,
The flowers grow anod in the wind.
Flowers and the wind,
Flowers anod over the graves of the dead,
Petals of red, leaves of yellow, streaks of white,
Masses of purple sagging…
I love you and your great way of forgetting.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Capeweed
Originally from South Africa and quite pretty indeed
Those flowers in Spring that cover the paddocks they are known as capeweed
With bright yellow petals and a dark brown heart
From all others quite easy to tell them apart.
Unwanted in Australia or 'twould seem that way
About them the farmers have no kinds words to say
But like thistles they survive deadly toxic spray
Though quite pretty to look at on a bright Spring day.
No strangers to the paddocks they are quite well known
And they have a beauty that is of their own
In late Winter and Spring in abundance to be seen
Their bright yellow flowers dapple Nature's own green.
The farmers cannot kill them off though hard they do try
And with each passing year they seem to multiply
In the paddocks they seem to dance in the breezes of Spring
When the weather is warming and the nesting birds sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Linda And Friends' Hampton Beach Gardens
Crimson,
Sun yellow,
Fairy rose pink,
Blue, Paris lavender
And soft white -
Colors are afloat!
Some rippling flowers
At Hampton Beach
Bloom in roadside island gardens
And in their own rowboats.
The flowers
And more blossoms, too,
Welcome sandy feet, sea gulls,
And sailing butterflies alike.
The beach blossoms
Hold pure sunshine,
Delighting all ages,
From the very old
To little tykes.
How the bright petals shine
During a magical day
By the seashore
In the summery sun!
It is fun to see the beach gardens' treasures
Blooming
Around magnificent Happy Hampton!
Once the spots where the pretty flowers
Now catch the sunbeams
Were just plain dirt
Or bare, hard concrete.
Today the shimmery flowers,
Bringing joyful tidings,
Have our families and friends
To greet.
poem by Gayle Sweeney
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Teen Aged Human...
The sleek bamboo shies away,
The stems of banana weep and cry,
Petals of chosen flowers hide and see,
How elegant you are at your teens, human.
The sun flowers just follow in obedience,
Where ever you go and disobedience,
To the sun is visually noted,
Angry sun looking for another flower,
To replace this infidel yellow flower.
When you walk in the garden,
The freshly bloomed flowers,
Close their petals,
For the fear of being ridiculed,
Just in the presence of,
your natural fragrance.
After Looking at your teeth,
Pearls of the ocean,
May go for a Whitening treat and
they may want to scale off the dirt that formed them.
When the wind meet the lady human at her teens,
It tries to blow as soft as the lady walks
When the moon meets the gentleman human at his teens,
She may show him the whitest face,
On full moon day to be his bride,
On new moon day.
If the sun passes by the lady human at her teens,
he will prostrate in front of her,
to choose him as a flower,
to wear on her plaited hair.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Dream Flight Tiny Flowers
a dandelion dazzles
bright yellow petals
set among soft blades
green grass carpets
flowers waiting host bees
in pollen quest flights
petals fade to dreams
dandelion transcends
really to harness winds
assumes new dimensions
aeronautical aspirations
tiny flowers bunched seeds
together dream lift flights
to distant diverse fields
dandelion purpose blooms
dream flight tiny flowers
produce seed parachutes
compass aline on heavens
choose navigation stars
rich green grass maps
imagination showers
through blue skies
or grey black storms
watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds
souls dance time changes
through wonder ranges
yellow petals subtle changes
one day transformation clicks
into white honeycomb wishes
fades into spectral stems
preparations need seeds
in readiness to roam skies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Morning Petals
Greenish and pinky
Reddish and yellow flowers
In this season blossom,
From the East, the sun strikes
how fine is my darling's face
Angel face on screen, written
The cupid re-strikes my heart,
I'm won, here are petals,
The morning flower petals!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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On to the lighter side of life
Time for the lighter side of life
Like standing on a garden seeing flowers bloom
In a constant rain
Looking at
Red petals of a china rose,
Seeing a yellow butterfly
So lightly floating in air, fluttering
A very light sight
You seldom see, you have been too
Contained inside
The theoretical workings of your mind,
You are touching leaves
Of a maiden’s hair, it feels so light
Some morning dews like pearls still
Attached to a white rose
You touch it with your fingers,
It feels so light, you take some deep breaths
And some sighs, you stretch your body,
Touching some dancing ladies
In full array in bloom in
Sunshine, you touch sunlight
It feels so light, so light you feel like
You are levitating to all these now
You miss these lighter things,
Your head is heavy with a lot of nonsense things,
Your neck pains, your heart pains,
Perhaps it is time to breathe,
now embrace these lighter things.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nursery Rhyme
One year, two year, three year, four,
Comes a khaki gentleman knocking at the door.
'Any little boys at home, send them out to me
To train them and brain them in battles yet to be.'
When a little boy is born feed him, train him so.
Put him in a cattle pen and wait for him to grow.
When he's nice and plump and dear, and sensible and sweet,
Throw him in the trenches for the great grey rats to eat.
Toss him in the cannon's mouth, cannons fancy best
Tender little boys' flesh that's easy to digest.
Mother rears her family on two pounds ten a week.
Teaches them to wash themselves, teaches them to speak.
Rears them with a heart's love, rears them to be men.
Grinds her fingers to the bone, and then... what then?
But parents who must rear the boys the cannons love to slay,
Also pay for cannons that blow other boys away.
Parsons tell them that their sons have just been blown to bits.
Patriotic parents must all laugh like fits.
Rear the boys for honest men and send them out to die!
Where's the coward father who would dare raise a cry?
Any gentleman's aware folk rear their children for
Blunderers and plunderers to mangle in a war!
Five year, six year, seven year, eight.
'Hurry up you little chaps, the captain's at the gate!'
poem by Frank Wilmot
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The Last Rose Of The Fall
Her pink petals strewn upon the grass beside her mother tree
In full bloom a thing of Nature so beautiful to see
Where the gleaners of Nature's decay grubs, slugs and insects crawl
Last week she looked so beautiful the last rose of the Fall.
So bare and thorny looking without her leaves and flowers
The rose tree looks forlorn in the cool Autumn showers
Next Summer again pink roses she will wear
The rose tree in bloom has a beauty that's rare.
The beauty of Nature is seen Worldwide
In town parks and gardens and in the countryside
And Nature herself she lives on every shore
The one destined to live forever more.
For the gleaners of Nature who live on decay
The beautiful rose petals on the grass lay
But the rose whose life span can be measured in hours
Her fate it is not any different to ours.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Year Is Revived In New Blossoms
The year is revived in new blossoms
with a golden sun in the cobalt sky,
in my life only Your principles bloom;
bright flowers are preparing to carry fruit.
Days are hot, full of promises stretching forward
to a time of fruitfulness, of full maturity,
when suddenly nature works secretively,
when love in my life comes to expression;
the loveliness of flower upon flower is astounding.
When the loveliness of flower upon flower astounds,
there are birds everywhere singing of joy,
the year spins around from winter to summer
when Your blessings pierce the darkness,
life becomes more full of love and perfect
without any type of strange hindrance
when You create living things to Your image
when new life sprouts out after the pruning,
the year is revived in new blossoms.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Monstrare
This house a dictatorship
Learn to shut your mouth and follow directions
Or receive punishments
For your treason
You get under my skin
And leave your marks
Like footprints in the snow
Except your boots are laced with a virus
'Cause you're making me sick
This house is a dictatorship
Follow the rules and shut your mouth
Or hear the mouth of the one
That controls you with force
Stand before the almighty and choke on your words
And tremble in fear as she screams, shouts
Yells and roars
Out of frustration
This house is a dictatorship
'Cause my voice is silenced,
My actions are limited,
My thoughts are undermined
Listen to yourself and
Listen to no one else
Because you're the 'boss'
Of this world
Or just the boss of this house
This house is a dictatorship
'Cause I'm chained to the fence
Like some wild animal
That can't be trusted
I wonder if you really trust me
Let alone understand me
'Cause if you don't,
What's the point of being a good child?
This house is a dictatorship
'Cause your word is always right
And mine is always wrong
Even though you're never right about everything
Nearing eighteen with the mind of an adult
Just like you, I'm smart too
But in your eyes, I'm still five
And I can't possibly know anything
This house a dictatorship
'Cause you don't bother to comfort me
When I need it most
In the darkest of times
You refuse to talk to me
About anything
So how am I supposed to
Know what you're feeling and thinking?
This house is a dictatorship
'Cause you always yell and scream
Until your throat goes hoarse
And you do it with no remorse
You see things from your own perspective
And you dread compromise
'Cause it's either your way
Or no way at all
But things have changed
Now I speak my mind
Because I'm no longer a shy ten year old child.
Now I tune out your yelling and screaming
Because I'm no longer a scared ten year old child.
Now I don't speak a word at home
Because there's no point.
Now I lose myself in Xbox and the computer
Because I can't talk to you.
It's not even about being disobedient
Or disrespectful.
It's about not being a kid anymore
And not being treated like the young adult I am.
And I know for certain
That this house is a dictatorship
'Cause you'll be mad if you read this,
Even though there isn't another way;
Even though you made it this way.
poem by Ronnell Evans
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The Garden
Like a Garden we flourish
With colour and life
Each of us different
Each of us bright
The petals of colours
Flutters in the breeze
As we reach for the sky’s
Full of life full of dreams
The sunshine’s down
Upon the garden of life
Spreading its warmth
To give us more life
Making us want nothing
Just being content in the sun
We grow and we spread
Our petals to bloom
Sending out pollen
To cultivate our seeds
As we grow in the warmth
Of our loving god’s embrace
poem by Kaila George
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