Sun, Sun, Sun
master sun
do not be too harsh on her
for she is a dainty flower
all white and too tiny
for the heat of your hands
let her go
let her petals fall at the right time of the day
just one day
let her be.
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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Queen Anne's Lace
Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth--nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
thefield by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand's span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over--
or nothing.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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The ROSE Healing - God's Design
When spring comes to us,
Scent of flowers in the air,
A tiny little rosebud,
A flower of God's design.
Perfect in His possession,
Always in His hand,
God unfolds the petals,
The secret's unknown to me,
The tiny little rosebud,
A flower of God's design,
Unfolds with perfection,
The rose in His hand.
As my life lies before me,
With it's joy and distress,
He is always near me,
Unfolding all life's petals,
The flower of His design,
Forever in His hand.
poem by Eva L. Shaw
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Thou Tiny Little Rosebud
Thou tiny little rosebud
What beauty do you hold?
The secret that's within you
will open and unfold
A color that becomes you,
A red or pink or white.
Your petals just like velvet
Behold! a wondrous sight.
In morning there are dewdrops
that glisten where they fall
on petals that will hold them
'till sunlight dries them all.
Thou tiny little rosebud
protected by the thorn,
beloved of all the flowers
I'm glad that you were born.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Life History of The Little Flower
The delicate petals fanned the tiny flower,
Waking fragrantly after the nudging shower,
Shyly it peeped around the beautiful bower,
Not realising its immense power of attraction.
Its quaint face and vibrant eyes,
Made onlookers feel grateful and wise.
Emotions, spirits and thoughts nobly rise,
In appreciation of the aesthetics of nature.
It looked at the sun and the shadowy moon,
Not knowing it would miss them soon.
Life is so brief. It was getting to be noon.
But that did not dismay the flower at all.
A bee saw it from the corner of its eye,
Skilfully it zoomed down closer to pry,
Lighting on the flower with spirits high,
It soon zoomed away with its fill of nectar.
A butterfly as dainty as the flower,
Lighted on the masterpiece in the bower,
Soon it flitted away there being no bar,
To enjoy the pollen it carried with it.
The sun went down and a mild breeze blew,
A gust attracted by the flower covered with dew,
Wanted to be friends with such beauty true,
So it approached it with furious excitement.
Reaching the flower it stopped in awe,
Never having seen such excellence before
Impetuously let out a loud, exultant roar,
Encircling the flower to strengthen their bond.
The pearly flower did not know where to look,
The rush of wind its petals vigorously shook,
The blast was playing the game to the book.
Soon the fragile flower lay completely bare.
As the petals floated away in all directions,
The naughty gust being ashamed of its actions,
Quickly rushed off. That was its heartless reaction,
To the demise of the ornament of the bower.
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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One Bloom
The tiny flower raised up its face to me,
and seemed to say, oh, how I do agree,
that in fact its such a delightful day,
with my friends around me in full array.
We brighten all the green hedgerows cut neat,
and ask, ‘please do watch where you put your feet’.
The tiny flower danced in the cooling breeze,
and down I knelt beside it, on my knees,
seeing such sweet beauty there in its face,
gracing this warm, sunny and pleasant place.
Smiling at the ever changing weather,
the cold wind, sun, rain and snow together.
The tiny flower actually made me think,
how such a dainty thing, blushing so pink,
could lift my spirit, wonderfully high,
when here I am, simply passing it by.
And yet it had caused me to stop and stare,
at this one bloom so extraordinaire.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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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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Elegy To A Bee
I found a bee upon the grass
Who faced his final hour
And cupped him gently in my hand
Then set him on a flower.
A sweet white rose that nestle him
In petals, cotton soft,
Whose fragrance, as he breathed is last,
Bore his soul aloft.
And though his tiny body lies
Within the roses' breast,
His spirit shines, his song still hums
In every flower he kissed.
poem by Karen M. Stakem
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Little White Dainty Daisy Opening Upon Such An Early Morning
little white dainty daisy
too fragile to believe that this
mighty bee
loves her
too young a bud
to open upon an early morning
the hairy bee rushes to take
everything from
dainty daisy
all her nectar
the might and force of the sucking and the sting
are too much
for her taking
upon the ground lies
the purest of all petals
when the sun & winds & clouds finally come
oh, there is so much weeping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A little Flower
A flower grew out of the ground
A tiny flower from the dirt
A tiny living soul from underground
A baby crawling from the dirt
A little innocence of wild color
A tiny spark of hope
A tiny pleasure free of charge
A flower that i called my own
A little baby ran towards it
A tiny flower crushed beneath the feet
A little human innocence
A little bliss destroyed by ignorance
A little flower dead on the ground
A little baby jumping up and down
And only me from my own window, witnessed the death of my own flower beneath the feet of blissful child without idea of his first crime...
poem by Dmitriy Kokarev
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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
Bumblebee
It seems to be a perplexity
And this's a dainty innocent flower
Mozzarella like petals be careful,
You should land on a Sunflower
She's very strong like Sun
And hold you forever.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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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By the Peonies
The peonies bloom, white and pink.
And inside each, as in a fragrant bowl,
A swarm of tiny beetles have their conversation,
For the flower is given to them as their home.
Mother stands by the peony bed,
Reaches for one bloom, opens its petals,
And looks for a long time into peony lands,
Where one short instant equals a whole year.
Then lets the flower go. And what she thinks
She repeats aloud to the children and herself.
The wind sways the green leaves gently
And speckles of light flick across their faces.
The charms of the ordinariness soothe the threat of anxiety.
poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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White Heat, Red Hot
The fathers son, thy kingdom come, electric ecstasy,
Deliver us from all the fuss and give us sanctuary.
Lead us all into arena, magnificent in death.
Well let us serenade the sinner, well follow in his step.
White heat, red hot burns deep, white heat red hot.
The fury songs, venomous wrongs so rich in tragedy,
An overture forever more to senseless victories.
Give to us this day of glory the power and the kill
So we avoid the wrath and all the almighty fire of
White heat, red hot burns deep, white heat red hot.
The heats hot burns a lot.
Who are not cut out to fight this day will surely fall.
The few who stand to take command forever and ever are men.
Prepare to fight, unsheathe your scythe a ghastly beam of ill
To slice the life with blinding light and seventh dimensional skill.
The centuries of dedication inherited till at last
From years of solar gladiation can only end in
White heat, red hot burns deep, white heat red hot.
The heats hot burns a lot.
Who are not cut out to fight this day will surely fall.
The few who stand to take command forever and ever are men.
White heat
Red hot
White heat
Red hot
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A May Wedding
A May Wedding
As a bride who has the long veil around her head
The dogwood has white petals and they hide branches on the tree.
When it is time for her to kiss the groom
And the petals fall gently.
They become a white cloth spread neatly.
This looks like a wedding dress with a long train behind her
As she is walking down the aisle in the room
The wedding bells are ringing until she is out of sight
The wind appears and I see white doves in flight.
poem by Meg Harrison
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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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A Poem About Excitement To Something Huge And Spread Like Space
i am tiny, like a nit
wit, and i look at you
spread like wall paper on the wall
something is beautiful there
like a face
something in there excites me
like a pulse on my wrist
i am tiny and i feel so tiny
watching you
like a wall paper on the wall, you
are indifferent
i am excited like a chick hatching from
a shell
i am growing feathers
like a chicken
something in you is so huge like a world
that i have never been
i am excited like a puppy to my master
getting out of his car
i love this feeling, this tiny feeling
this world that is expanding
you are my world now, and i fall into
a regret,
when tiny becomes lost
and when the hands melt while groping for the
truth
about beauty that is lost
about existence that is deleted
simply because you are too huge
like space
and i, this atom, unseen,
colliding,
invincible, and now unknown.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Moment in Time
A single orange daisy.
Blooming from the sidewalk crack.
In the early morning.
Dew dripping off its delicate petals.
The sun is rising.
The flower struggles to survive.
Rising up from the concert it blossoms with new hope.
I’m going to live.
A small girl.
Pink dress and shiny black shoes.
She sees the flower.
The flower.
Wet petals, bursting with new light and hope.
She waddles over.
And picks it.
The flower.
It’s life.
Gone.
In just one moment in time.
-Madelyn
poem by Madelyn Burnham
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