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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
February Morning
white curtains laced and
see through
over the window down
below
red suntan blooming
beside mahogany tree
a sparrow is singing
upon a twig
a man sitting looking at the view
feeling so new
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Does She Like The Suntan Or The Sunflower?
i have offended a nice woman today
aldo,
i need to know what flowers will she ask
to get an apology?
will it be sunflowers as big as a hat?
or suntan with the tiny little suns?
please ask her Aldo
ask her for me
i love her and i do not want to lose her
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thief! !
Thief! !
I don't need any flowers from you!
For, i've got enough flowers in my garden.
A walk in Sapin,
Pain, chain, train, rain, drain, grain, Cain, main, stain train;
And there you will meet a lot of people ready to offer you free flowers!
But, do watch out! ! For they are pick pockets! ! !
And, in the process of offering you these flowers, another picks your purse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Do Not Go To The Garden Of Flowers
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus,
and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.
In the spring garden
In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Pruning A Very Long Poem
THIS IS A VERY LONG POEM AND I WANT IT PRUNED:
I used to like gardens, putting flowers on the row,
Tending the soil, cutting the grass,
Removing the weeds,
Pruning the lush greenery of trees
And making the flor-de-luna vines
Create a certain impression
Of a landscape,
A certain motif
A theme of gladness
Something to cherish
I take a good look around my
Little garden
And then I would sit under the shade of flowering champaca trees throwing fragrance
Sprinkling perfume
The neighbors say that the scent of ylang-ylang even reaches their houses
And the white sampaguitas so exuding
I used to dirty my hands putting soil on the flower pots
Designing landscapes of love
And patience, curves and hills,
And tend to all the colors mixing in space,
I used to
I am telling you I stopped
When I married,
My wife comes to my garden
And rearranges everything
She puts what she wants
And pulls what she
Thinks repels her
She cuts the flowers
Puts them on the vase
And uproots some species
That I love
And soon the garden has not become mine
Crowded, and strange
And what used to be my little garden
Green Bermuda grass and patterns
Red Anthuriums heart shaped
Pink Dahlias praying to the sun
Orange Gumamelas dancing in the wind
And yellow dancing ladies beaming with pride
Olive Palms waiving to passers by with all cheers
Violets so assuming
White lilies in pure dignities
Lotuses in meditation moods
Husky Cactuses confident with thorns
Finger Ferns so fine and cool
My garden
Now is a forest
The wanton chaos
My garden is gone
All the patterns changed
Drastically
And she asks me
She asks me
Why I don’t tend the garden anymore
She asks me
If something is wrong
If everything has gone wrong
She asks me if I still love my garden
She asks me if I can begin planting some seeds again
She asks me if I still love her,
AND THIS IS HOW I PRUNED IT:
I like gardens
I don’t tend the garden anymore
I still love her,
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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112
THIS IS A VERY LONG POEM AND I WANT IT PRUNED:
I used to like gardens, putting flowers on the row,
Tending the soil, cutting the grass,
Removing the weeds,
Pruning the lush greenery of trees
And making the flor-de-luna vines
Create a certain impression
Of a landscape,
A certain motif
A theme of gladness
Something to cherish
I take a good look around my
Little garden
And then I would sit under the shade of flowering champaca trees throwing fragrance
Sprinkling perfume
The neighbors say that the scent of ylang-ylang even reaches their houses
And the white sampaguitas so exuding
I used to dirty my hands putting soil on the flower pots
Designing landscapes of love
And patience, curves and hills,
And tend to all the colors mixing in space,
I used to
I am telling you I stopped
When I married,
My wife comes to my garden
And rearranges everything
She puts what she wants
And pulls what she
Thinks repels her
She cuts the flowers
Puts them on the vase
And uproots some species
That I love
And soon the garden has not become mine
Crowded, and strange
And what used to be my little garden
Green Bermuda grass and patterns
Red Anthuriums heart shaped
Pink Dahlias praying to the sun
Orange Gumamelas dancing in the wind
And yellow dancing ladies beaming with pride
Olive Palms waiving to passers by with all cheers
Violets so assuming
White lilies in pure dignities
Lotuses in meditation moods
Husky Cactuses confident with thorns
Finger Ferns so fine and cool
My garden
Now is a forest
The wanton chaos
My garden is gone
All the patterns changed
Drastically
And she asks me
She asks me
Why I don’t tend the garden anymore
She asks me
If something is wrong
If everything has gone wrong
She asks me if I still love my garden
She asks me if I can begin planting some seeds again
She asks me if I still love her,
AND THIS IS HOW I PRUNED IT:
I like gardens
I don’t tend the garden anymore
I still love her,
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enter Her Garden Of Flowers
now you may enter her garden of flowers
but first you must be wise
do not think that what look like flowers are
nothing but flowers
man be wise, there are those that look like flowers
but they are something else
do not just pick them up, think twice think thrice
in her garden
there are some flowers which are bred in guilt
and if you are not so careful enough
pick another one
that one is meant for your death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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0008 A Woman's World
She was artistic as a student,
sweet-natured, imaginative, not
overly ambitious; a good catch
for him, the fellow student with
the drive, the ambition, the great
family connections.
They married young; she did
what so many girl art students
have done: gave him all her
intelligent support, bore and raised
his children; and in the few brief moments
that she was granted for herself, took out
her student paintbox, and while the kettle boiled,
sat at the kitchen table, and beyond the view of washing-up
part painted that familiar view –
a jug of garden flowers on the kitchen window-sill..
and when he left her for
another strong woman who, however,
sculpted the cutting-edge new abstract thing
she brought up his children by herself
and when they left the nest, and she, now older,
had more time to give to paint,
she returned - as so many artists do –
to that motif, for them an eternal reminder
of that moment when the exalted mind
sees, beyond the kitchen sink,
a glimpse of that great heavenly view
beyond the garden flowers, where
she could walk into that paradise
that eternally awaits
the sweet-tempered heart..
and year by year, the modest
jug of flowers on the window-sill
became herself
and she
became that heavenly view
until the jug of flowers burst into glory
and she did what only ikon painters, praying, do
and gold and silver joined the rainbow paint
to point the way to an eternity
where kitchen sink’s now holy path;
that is more now than now
and she became,
the painting is,
a jug of Eden's flowers on a kitchen window-sill
and with all heaven in its sight
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Stepping Out Queen Part 2
It seems like it must have been something that I said
Something that somebody must have done
This is a song
Its got a whole lot of soul
When I seen you by the way before
In new york city
I think it was on eighth street, right?
Or was it in san francisco, whatever
Always put the first one first
And the second one, second
Come in the garden and look at the flowers
Thats what you were saying, right?
Come in my garden and look at the flowers
We can just sit and talk for hours and hours
Come in my garden, come in my garden
Come in my garden
Come in my, come in my, come in my garden
Come in my, come in my, come in my garden
Come in my garden, come in my garden
Look at the flowers, we can just sit and talk
And feel
As the sun come over the valley
As the sun come over the valley
I believe
I like the way
I like your face from the left side
As you go
As you go stepping out queen
Stepping out queen
Its just a windfall away, its just a windfall away
Its a windfall away
As you, as you, as you, as you go, as you go
Stepping out queen
Let me see you step out
Come on!
As you go steppin out queen
You can promenade
You can promenade
When you step
With a little bit of hip action
You go steppin out queen
Just a little bit of hip for the trip
As you go
Steppin out queen
I said give me a little bit of shoulder slide
Come on
Da, dada, do dodo, do dodo, do dodo, do doooo
Come on baby I just wanna reach out
I wanna reach out and touch you
I dont wanna talk
Do do do do do do do do do do do do do..
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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1,2,3!
I did it once,
You did it twice,
They did it trice;
1,2,3!
Playing around in the garden of love when,
The beautiful flowers started blooming;
But, there is no place like home.
Pump, dump, lump, crump, clump, jump!
And by doing what is right always;
For, the beautiful flowers have started blooming.
Rump, trump, grump, slump, sump, hump!
For, i did it once and you did it twice;
But, they did it trice! !
1,2,3!
Playing around in the garden of love when,
The beautiful flowers started blooming;
But, there is no place like home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A place to be
We often search around
For a garden of roses and flowers,
A scene to enjoy, a moment to cherish,
A place to be.
But
It reminds us of what is not done;
No need to go far,
When the buds lay near,
Touching the inside with vigor,
Kindling the heart with soothing fragrance,
Flowering of courage,
Blossoming of confidence
Blooming of strength,
Sprouting of love -
An inner garden
A real place to be.
poem by Ibrahim Ibn Salma
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Carnations in the garden
There are carnations in the garden
in colours of ruby red,
pure white and blossom pink
and some pink with deep purple inside
and others purple-blue.
I smell the sweet fresh flowers
and look at colours
hue as if by magic
into each other.
Some grow in flowering pots,
some are planted in flowerbeds,
others even in the rock garden
and the flowers at places are mixed
to catch the eye
and everywhere there’s care
and a lot of love
that went into the tending of it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Garden Fair
Flowers are blooming in
my garden fair. Their
sweet perfume fills the
air. My Garden fair is
beautiful to see., with all
its glory surrounding me.
My garden fair is romantic
and bright, and so redeeming
in sunlight where song birds
nestle in the trees, and sing
with each flowing breeze.
My garden fair is a glorious
sight, that I rush to greet
at twilight my garden fair is
most supreme with such lovely
enchanting scenes.
poem by Dr. Janice Marie Murrell
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Flowers or garden
There are beautiful blossoms
In the garden
And the garden looks gorgeous
I often think
Whether it is flowers which make
A garden beautiful or
It is a garden that enhances the beauty of flowers
But it is certain that both are
Incomplete without each other.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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If Flowers Turn
Flowers for a girl who was placed in the dark
Flowers from a world that had taken her heart
They looked so pretty, but the blood stained them
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
Pull the braids untie all of the pain from your hair
Don't let the buzzards try or they'll take what's been there
Signs appear, and the worst you fear
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
Don't look to the dark all of the pain that you want is here
Uncover your heart so the feeling can disappear
The worst winds are calling, they need you they want you
I'm in the dark and I can see a thing for miles
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
I know, I've seen the pain in your heart
Because I died for us
song performed by by Ours
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Note Of Her Life
she is my wife
she is not a little note of my life
she is occupying the full page
of my ads
for one thing
she keeps cutting all the leaves of the palms in my garden
and it is getting hot in here
when some of the bushes begins to flower
she cuts them all again
leaving my garden empty
except for the bleeding twigs of the tree
leaving the little life of others in misery
she is my wife
when she dies she will still be my wife
that little note of my life
my garden shall be full of flowers
my bushes shall bear more
and all the leaves of the palms in my garden
shall be green till the end of their
spans
opps don't take this against me
she is my wife
and she will always be my wife
a little note of my life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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God's Garden
God made a beatous garden
With lovely flowers strown,
But one straight, narrow pathway
That was not overgrown.
And to this beauteous garden
He brought mankind to live,
And said: 'To you, my children,
These lovely flowers I give.
Prune ye my vines and fig trees,
With care my flowerets tend,
But keep the pathway open
Your home is at the end.'
Then came another master,
Who did not love mankind,
And planted on the pathway
Gold flowers for them to find.
And mankind saw the bright flowers,
That, glitt'ring in the sun,
Quite hid the thorns of av'rice
That poison blood and bone;
And far off many wandered,
And when life's night came on,
They still were seeking gold flowers,
Lost, helpless and alone.
O, cease to heed the glamour
That blinds your foolish eyes,
Look upward to the glitter
Of stars in God's clear skies.
Their ways are pure and harmless
And will not lead astray,
Bid aid your erring footsteps
To keep the narrow way.
And when the sun shines brightly
Tend flowers that God has given
And keep the pathway open
That leads you on to heaven.
poem by Robert Frost
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In This Garden
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
The flowers and the grass
The stones and the water
The sculptures and all art
Sing a song
A song of beauty
A song of harmony
A song of hope
The wind whistles gently
Is it to the east?
Or is it to the west?
I don’t know and I don’t need to know
All is so beautiful
Hush…
Hush humanity
Hush…
I can feel the scent on y nostrils
The scent of the flowers
The sound of the water nearby welcoming
Peace
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With beautiful flowers
Where art lives
Hush
Play the music
Let the flowers live the music
Let the drums be heard
Let the music come to life
Play the music
Let it be heard here today
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With very beautiful flowers
Where art comes to life
poem by Jack Shaka
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