En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The flower vase

Flowers are there to invite bees;
They aren’t there for you and me
To pluck and bring them to our vase
Or make essence out of them, mind.
21.02.2009

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers In A Vase

A bunch of flowers
Sat in a vase
Colourful and lonely
A mind looks at them
Wondering
What is it they have to say
Are they a thank you
Or a gift of love
Are they an apology
Or given in remorse
Perhaps they are for nothing
Given to bring a smile
The mind looks on
Wondering for a while
The flowers sit in their vase
Unmoved by thought
Or the reason given to them
A little water at their base
To keep them fresh for a while
They are the end of the day
Just flowers in a vase

poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love is selfish

Women love flowers; Flowers invite bees;
Bees run for honey. Where’s love mutual?
Each one runs to pursue its own goal.
I love you to my pleasure, not yours.
09.01.2000, Palakkad.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rivalry only yields fruits.

Plants vie with each other
To give flowers in different colours.
They have to catch eyes of bees.
Bees vie with each other
To imbue force with their breeds.
They have to be early birds.
Flowers are colourful.
Bees are black moors.
A perfect combination.
Woman, mind your face.
Man, mind your force.
25.04.2002, pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cut Flowers

If you love me - please never bring me cut flowers
Because I know that they will die soon after a few hours
I would feel that whatever the flowers represent
Would be equal to the time we have left to spend

Straight stems, soft petals and a lush green leaf
The hours and minutes are numbered - you better believe
Picking a flower is like a sure sentence to death
Like taking a fish out of water watching his last breath

Cut down their life brutally shortened with a sharp knife
All hope diminished knowing that they will not survive
Sure the flowers may get nourishment from the water in the vase
But their life is over as they know it in just a few days

So do not buy any cut flowers for me pretty please
I rather watch them outside visited by many bees
It is so beautiful to see them sway softly outside
And so sad to see them slowly die and lose their pride

© 2011

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers

Do you not say
I’m omnipotent,
Omnipresent?

I created you,
Your family
And the nature
Around you.

Would I not be able to
Smell and see the flowers
That surround you?

Why pick them up in lots,
Pluck them off their
Lives, sew them with
Needles, and gift them
As garlands to an image
Of me: your temple deity.

What joy I get, tell me?
If I see my creations
Being ravaged by man’s
Ruthless hands. Like you,
They would love to live
A carefree life of freedom
And sunshine.

Why smother them
Prematurely, wither them
With your plucking fingers?
Don’t crush them to offer me
Pushpanjali.
Let them breathe in the
Breeze of the garden
Where they belong…
Let the bees savour their nectar.

Do not give me bouquets
Of dying flowers…
I’m just as happy
To see them
Blossom :)
In the branches of
The swinging trees.

Why make them bare and barren?
They look so naked without their
Adornments – the beautiful flowers
That drape them in beauty…
Listen to me, my dear devotee.
You happen to see me everywhere,
Don’t you?
You talk of my omnipresence,
So why don’t you see
That I don’t need
Flowers from thee
To please me.

They are there for nature to show us
How flowers look beautiful in their
Natural beauty…don’t pluck, please.

Won’t you heed me?

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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First Day Of Spring

I know today's the first of spring.
I wonder what the spring will bring?

I know it will bring blooming trees
and pollen that will make some sneeze.
I know it will bring lots of flowers
to stir our senses and feelings for hours.
I know it will make the earth come alive
and bees and wasps building a hive.
I know it will start the ritual of love
and an increase of cloudless skies above.
I know it will bring springtime rain
that will end with rainbows that can't remain.
I know it will make me happy to see
the warmer days and tranquil sea.

What I don't know is what I will do
if springtime wishes don't come true?

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Beauty is for women

Flowers dress themselves in different colours
To attract bees, who are not colourful.
Flowers mind visits of bees, not their colour.
Hence women dress to get spotted.
20.09.2000, Vijayavada

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Ode To A Crystal Vase

Oh the sparkle
from the cuts so clean
make by yourself
an exquisite scene.

But when you are holding
the flowers I choose
It's then that your charm
can then confuse

the onlookers who must make their choice
and exclaim aloud
with their voice.

Ah! the beautiful
flowers I see
or that vase
is really extraordinary.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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The garden is my weeping heart

There is no fertilizer at all
But they grow without any quarrels.
Flowers in different colors
And varieties of fragrance.
I have no fence and restrictions too.
Birds, bees, butterflies and hornets idle.
Some trespassers with strong hands,
Sometimes very cruel.
Please do not pluck in that way as it's painful
And let the flowers wither.
One day I have to abandon the garden
As my soul takes wings.
But you find another gardener there.

* Spring comes and goes, yet comes again.
What a wonderful shuttle the nature is?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Reality of life...

All those minding the attitude of multitude,
Aren't dragged into the den of solitude,
All those who are at the den of solitude,
Aren't minding the attitude of multitude,
All those who learn to read the mind of people,
Aren't energized to be useful,
All those who are energized to be useful,
Aren't reading the mind of the people,
All those who succeed are not intelligent,
All those who are intelligent are not successful,
All flowers that bloomed will not become seeds,
All those seeds not produce flowers indeed,
All those who succeed in life are not intelligent,
All those who are intelligent are not successful, .

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Sulking Flowers

Comparing the bees to the wandering males of human species,
Disheartening the waiting souls at the threshold of floral genesis,
For the pollen these bees brought unknowingly,
The generous flowers tip the nectar unconditionally.

Bees are the messengers, not the rapists as human,
Bees are the servants, not the incest driven as human,
Bees are the courier carriers, not the molesters as human,
Bees are innocent, not the illusionists scoundrels as human.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Zen and the art of plastic flower maintenance

From time to time, when
I’ve been meditating, and
these things matter, I pick respectfully
the plastic flowers from their vase,
wash the vase, wipe the dust
off the leaves with a moist cloth,
dip the flower-heads in water
as one would give someone
a holy bath

and then replace them in
a slightly new position in the vase,
a slightly new position on the table.

absurdity and
something beautiful
have met and got along together rather well.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Knees Of My Bees

we share a culture same vernacular
love of physical humor and time spent alone
you with your penchant for spontaneous events
for sticky and raspy, unearthed and then gone
you are a gift promised sent with a wink
with tendencies for conversations that raise bars
you are a sage who is fueled by compassion
comes to nooks and crannies, is bound for all stars
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you are a spirit that knows of no limit
that knows of no ceiling who baulks at dead-ends
you are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers
not seduced by illusions of fair-weather friends
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you are a vision who lives by the signals of
stomach and intuition as your guide
you are a sliver of god on a platter
who walks what he talks and who cops when hes lied
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak

song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Petal Game

pick a flower
to play the petal game
pluck a petal
he loves me

pluck a petal
I don't love him
pluck a petal
he keeps getting closer
pluck a petal
I keep pushing him away
pluck a petal
he is always around me

pluck a petal
I hide away from him
pluck a petal
he is always protecting me
pluck a petal
I just punch him in the gut
pluck a petal
he never seems to get it

pluck a petal
I really hate his guts
pluck a petal
he just really bugs me
pluck a petal
I need a new flower now
pick a flower
to play the petal game

poem by Amber Lyn Charneski
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Apiary

All the flowers get together
as a trade union
and made a complaint
to the Apiarist.
The bees were kept
without their consent
and they grumbled
bees are freelance
and why did you
obstruct their freedom?
Oh! what a lovely pageant
when flowers are unified?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nature's mystery

Colour of petals is to invite bees;
Colour of berries is to invite birds.
What for is colour of carrot? Who knows?
The Nature's mystery is beyond the grasp.
27.04.2012

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet

Whenever you feel melancholic and low,
Just cut some beautiful dainty flowers,
And add tall stems of lemon green foliage.
Mindfully put them in a clear crystal vase.
With patience see how to bring out the best,
From these gifts of God, in such a way,
That whosoever walks in feels blessed
To see them on the table on display.
Before you know clouds of sorrow depart,
And you wonder why you felt so sad.
All it takes is flowers to feel light hearted,
And you feel joyous and your heart expands.
Doing up flowers is like meditation,
It takes you out of your ruminations.

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A vase of flowers

I saw a vase of purple-pink roses
lying on your dark brown buffet
and simply had to have it.

“Who painted this, ” I immediately enquired
loving the picture more with each look
that I took of it
as it’s not your thing
to paint still life’s with flowers.

“I painted it. It’s like painting pillow slips, ”
you replied and astonished
I looked at it again
and this was on board
and not in water colours
but done with oil paint.

The folds of the cups were edged
in ridges along their lines
using the techniques
of your abstract paintings
and one smaller unopened bud
laid next to the bowl
almost running into your name.

Little pink flowers was in the background
where the transparent vase with green stems
was against the wall on a tiled floor.

[Reference: Vase with roses by Mandi Engelbrecht. (This painting belongs to me.) ]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Luck Favours The Commoners

Strong bees target at terminal flowers.
Some miss, some fail, some trail and a few hit.
Weak bees stumble on flowers that lie low.
They hardly miss the targets and get through.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Avoid Intrusion

Why stir a hornet’s nest and get stung bad?
Why break a termite-hill, disturb the snake?
Why irk the warrior-ants and make them mad?
Why pluck the beehive live to honey take?

’Tis wrong to get into others’ domain,
And doing this knowingly could bring Hell;
Though maimed, the first attempt could be in vain;
You must have skills before the cat, you bell.

Good and bad things happen almost world-wide;
Intrusion is something all well detest;
Some foolish men, women have also died;
To keep off from trouble-mongers is best.
Do not invite undue troubles to self;
You can’t discern the Angel from the Elf.

7-11-2002

poem by John Celes
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