Love shifts by the successor
Flower that blooms at sunrise
Stays and withers at sunset.
Next day, another one does.
Love that blooms every time
Withers soon for the next one.
06.10.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rubaiyat 14
Since the flower withers in the dark,
The bud blooms to leave its mark,
Happy is the heart, light as a bubble,
At the tavern is naked, stark.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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There's A Moon Inside My Body
THE moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it:
The moon is within me, and so is the sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it.
So long as man clamours for the I and the Mine, his works are as naught:
When all love of the I and the Mine is dead, then the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away.
The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers.
The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass.
The Moon Shines In My Body
The moon shines in my body,
but my blind eyes cannot see it:
The moon is within me,
and so is the sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me;
but my deaf ears cannot hear it.
So long as man clamours for the 'I' and the 'Mine',
his works are as naught:
When all love of the 'I' and the 'Mine' is dead,
then the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away.
The flower blooms for the fruit:
when the fruit comes, the flower withers.
The musk is in the deer,
but it seeks it not within itself:
it wanders in quest of grass.
EVERY FLOWER -Acrostic
Every flower that blooms withers
Very true is the tale,
Even the brightest and the pale;
Rich in softness, fragrance, beauty and colors
Yet they give out pleasure to others
Fresher they bloom, duller they wither;
Look at their wonderful journey
Only once they bloom, yet they live on
Within the minds of all, as recollection
Even after many years, as honey
Rightly are they GOD's best creation!
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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from flat leaf’s edge born
blooms alit, aglow, the flowery bulb at night
withers by morn – ‘Star of Bethlehem! ’
quote by by John Celes
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Love That Won't Last
when i tell you that i love you
please do not
ask something that lasts
forever
for i am a man
simply a man
and i am
not
immortal
my love lasts
while i last
i last only for a moment
like a flower
that blooms today
and then
tonight is blown away
by the slightest
touch of
this
divine sigh
do not see me as a bud
of this
flower that in your mind
blooms and will last
forever
i am man i am mortal
at any time i may die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Tonight I Draw Your Hair
Tonight I draw your hair,
A hair of simplicity,
With a mysterious beauty,
That no one can ever resist,
A hair that blooms with the sun,
That always shines every sunrise,
And turns into deep black at sunset,
A hair of smooth silk,
That touches my face like a baby,
And comforts my soul into a sleeping baby,
Like the lullaby that can put me into sleep,
Your hair blooms unlike any other.
-GanNi
poem by Geovanni Leaño
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Breaking Up
What will you do when your love really ends?
Can you rely on your so-called friends?
Or is it a question of 'Well, it just depends
On whether I can get a baby-sitter'?
No wonder you feel so f*cked-up and bitter,
Your girl two-timed you and you wanted to hit her -
That's unacceptable and she'd call the police,
You're angry and scared, you just want some peace
To work it all out and find a solution,
There's no need to start a damn revolution!
She was always so 'clever', always knew best,
But from her innocent smiles you would never have guessed
Her talent for b*tching and being a pest,
No wonder her mum and dad were distressed!
She liked to make out she was the boss
So ditching her now's not exactly a loss,
But will anything ever be the same as the bliss
Of the fire and the passion of her first sweet kiss?
Look at it now, Spring's tenderest flower,
It blooms and it withers in the space of an hour.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Identity
Every flower that's ever lived
has had its bloom, then died.
The beauty was while blooming.
It's how it's identified.
Every love that's come about
has bloomed and never dies.
The beauty in this is the knowing
that it lasts after the goodbyes.
For love is stronger than 'death do us part.'
It stays with the one left behind.
And for the one that leaves and goes their way
You still are in their mind.
Only the body withers away.
It lived and than it died.
But like the flower that had its bloom,
Love is how it's identified.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Behind The Veil
The withdrawing bees sit on the blooms,
Dusts of yellow fall and start to groom,
The prosecuted flowers, accused of waywardness,
The bees are brought to identify, the lady pregnant,
Points the finger at one, who is in prime,
To take care her deposit in the silent shrine,
Bees get off guard, wrong genetic code,
The community of bees not to want to ride,
And conspire to keep the blooms on guard,
Each matured flower to be covered,
From the wavy petals to the leggy stem,
Just an opening for the rays to peep in,
The blooms on cover, not to attract the bees,
The blooms watch and enjoy exclusive.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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There Is A Rose...
There Is A Rose...
There is a rose that blooms for me
Tucked away so quietly
Hidden for only my eye to see
And holding on to my heart's key
There is a rose that blooms for me
There is a rose that blooms for you
Just beyond your loving view
Waiting to be born anew
Waking to your heart's cue
There is a rose that blooms for you
13 Jan 2008
Syrian Military Attacking Killing Civilians
Syrian military
tanks aircraft are attacking
are killing civilians
with Russian
political military...
aid civilian Arab
blood flows
blood red black rose withers
those Russians
those Russians
living before frost
ice thaw
say how can you expect...
dictators
to leave
blood red black rose withers
without sowing
killing fields
with thousands
millions of rebels
exterminated
are not model...
civilians
not citizens
blood red black rose withers
plus misfits
did not conform
to official
party policy
insanity insanity...
there can be
only party
blood red black rose withers
Russian tradition slay civilians
put in ice box grave Gulag...
have they not heard
Stalin is dead...
dictatorship is dead...
martyr minds
beyond the wire noose...
blood red black rose withers
beyond the wire noose...
are already free
blood red black rose withers
do not blame Arab
dictator
for civilian deaths
in Aleppo? ? ?
without Russian Chinese
political muscle flexing
merciless
backing blood would not flow
backing blood would not flow
in black rose freedom
blood red black rose withers
poem by Terence George Craddock
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New Zealand
good news from Rose
a flower blooms in her garden
i am not sure what it is
she is in a hurry
she jumps with joy and she hangs up
a miracle, a miracle she calls me
i do not know i refuse to know
we have been unlucky here
and faithless
but we do not mind anymore
Rose is happy and that is enough
whatever it is
she deserves it
a flower blooms in her garden
and she concludes
it is God-given.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fragrance Of Virtue Rises To The Heavens
The blissful flower landed on the earthly dirt
And rooted its seeds on the bosom of mankind.
The flower blooms only in fruitful pure heart
Which grazes its petals like one hungry hind.
Virtues are the atoms of God, the holiest one.
The more we attain it, the more we appear near
To Him, His being, Virtues and godliness anon
As our soul drenches with immortal holy tear.
The earthy flower blooms, dies in perched air
With a fragrance that melts, melts, melts away.
But the fragrant flower of Virtue is always fair,
Its fragrance rises towards heavenly stairway.
poem by Osman Gani
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Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
By: Adam M. Snow
Just like a rose that blooms yet withers away;
we are here to live but not here to stay.
We need to learn to love, forget how to hate;
and free ourselves from a terrible fate.
We are here today, yet gone tomorrow;
so leave estray all doubt and sorrow;
soon we'll be gone and some be damned to Hell;
stand firm on the Rock and all will be well.
We need to wake up and open our eyes;
so that we may see through all of our lies.
Life is fragile yet it can end unexpectedly.
So why do we still see blindly?
We are only here today, yet we'll be gone tomorrow;
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Evening Primrose
When once the sun sinks in the west,
And dewdrops pearl the evening's breast;
Almost as pale as moonbeams are,
Or its companionable star,
The evening primrose opes anew
Its delicate blossoms to the dew;
And, hermit-like, shunning the light,
Wastes its fair bloom upon the night,
Who, blindfold to its fond caresses,
Knows not the beauty it possesses;
Thus it blooms on while night is by;
When day looks out with open eye,
Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun,
It faints and withers and is gone.
poem by John Clare
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What The Heart Of The Poet Said To The 'Bulletin
Tell me not in future numbers
That our thought becomes inane,
That our metre halts and lumbers,
When the Wattle blooms again.
Lies of great men all remind us
We can challenge and restrain
Such attempts to bluff and blind us,
When the Wattle blooms again.
Therefore take our gage of battle!
Freedom reasserts her reign:
We are not dumb, driven, cattle
When the Wattle blooms again.
Doubtless ANSWERS, weekly, daily,
Adding to his heap of slain,
Feels a jar, when Nature gaily
Bids the Wattle bloom again.
Nocent censor! time thou learnest
All this contract may contain —
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
But the Wattle blooms again.
Time may change this loyal journal
From religious to profane,
But a rhythmic law eternal
Makes the Wattle bloom again.
Trust no Flossie, howe'er pleasant,
Sweeps are treacherous, totes are vain;
Banks and scrip are evanescent,
But the Wattle blooms again.
Cultivate no fair ideal;
Own no country-seat in Spain;
All these things must go to Sheol,
Whil'st the Wattle blooms again.
Czar, and Pope, and Dei Gratia
Pass like phantoms of the brain
Never so our bright acacia,
For the Wattle blooms again.
Thus you see, austere and lonely,
Sailing o'er Life's solemn main,
One great fact is certain only —
That the Wattle blooms again.
poem by Joseph Furphy
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Another Dark Day
ANOTHER DARK DAY
From the arrays in the sky
eclipses another bright star
A curtain is drawn
A life, to an abrupt end
A flower once blossomed
now withers away.
Far away in Pakistan
A lone voice is cut in its prime
A life which stood against oppresion
A life which stood for justice
A life which stood for equality
A life which stood for democracy
Snuffed out in daylight
How bizzare
How cowardly
How cruel
This life now withers away
Adieu Benazir Bhutto
A life that counts
Better to die a hero
Than live an unsung life
The world mourns you
In our hearts, you live on
Till we meet again
Good night Mama
poem by Olumide Familusi
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A Wild Flower's Take Off
I hear the woods cry and the stream stops for a while
And fiery birds fly to a distant place.
An isolated boat drifts lazily and the ferryman is nowhere?
I sniff the fragrance of the hidden flower
And I feel someone keeps her in a cruel city.
This rare flower never blooms here again
That I am sure like a Sunset.
*Man! It sounds great. [Maxim.Gorky-The lower depths]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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