The Prettiest Flower You've Ever Seen
What's blue, yellow, red and green?
Why it's the most beautiful flower you've ever seen.
It grows in Melodie's garden,
Where everything is golden.
It was pollinated by Butterfly Queen Emma Jean.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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A Blue Rose!
Genetically modified flower blue rose is unique!
Rose colour gives hope of future by its very look;
Red rose is unique among flowers as it is queen
In the flower world nobody can deny having it!
Yellow rose shines bright in the long green garden
Full of many trees and other flower plants broad!
Pink rose flowers are many everywhere as border
Mainly in the botanical garden of hill stations here!
Blue rose, a new addition in the flower kingdom
Among lavender, blue bells and rare kurinjis of
Light blue, violet and ink blue colours everywhere
Stands majestic and having healing touch to all!
Rose is rose by whatever name it is called and also
Rose is rose by whatever colour it is produced ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Birth Of The Yellow Butterfly
on the gumamela leaf
the small cocoon hangs
there for days and
you wait for the
usual surprise in this
garden
it wriggles out and
pulls itself from
a tight house
it holds itself at the
tip of the leaf and
gets a fan from
the wind and then
stretches itself
and spreads its
wings and finally
flies away
how beautiful
to see
the birth of another
yellow butterfly
regally erect and
flutters from flower
to flower like she
were a princess
in her green castle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little Butterfly
I saw a little butterfly
Flying By to say Hi
Flying among the field of green
Admiring the Beautiful Stream
I saw the little butterfly
flying high, so high up into the sky
High above the garden green
covering the suns yellow beam
Flying all day
Flying all night
Flying into the beautiful Moonlight
Where the passion flower grows
Lay down on your pillow
and turn the lights down low
let me take you to the garden
where the passion flower grows
Close your eyes and enter dreams
as love's emotion sets the scene
and flitters through the garden
where the passion flower grows
Touch the tender petals
of the flower as she grows
a tentative endeavour
as your feelings overflow
Let me draw you to the place
where ecstasy can be embraced
the beauty of the garden
where the passion flower grows
Feel your mind exploding
in the heavy scented air
experience the shiver
as your captured unaware
A little touch of heaven
where imagination flows
the valley in the garden
where the passion flower grows.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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O Beautiful Butterfly
Beautiful, beautiful
Purple, violet, red
Spotted and varied
Butterfly, butterfly
Little Rishu does say
Come and play
Butterfly, butterfly
Like you
I want to fly
Very, very high
And view
Beautiful flowers
And playing kids
Who oft skids
While running
Playing in the garden
O beautiful butterfly
Come and take me high
High above in the sky
O my sweet butterfly, butterfly
Shashikant Nishant Sharma 'साहिल'
==========©SNS==14 November 2010==Patna==========
{This poem was written on the children day on seeing my little nephew playing in the garden.}
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Lone Yellow Flower Waves In The Open Fields
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green;
lone yellow flower has no one to blame
and it seeks none to praise
for it knows all life comes in
when the conditions are right;
lone yellow flower knows
death comes in like the wind;
lone yellow flower
is never alone
for it is a part of the expression
of the earth and time and the universe;
lone yellow flower sees what is before and around
lone yellow flower observes what is within and about
and so lone yellow flower lives with no delusions
no beliefs of heaven and hell
fears none and does not live or die
to please or amuse or appease;
and lone yellow flower
blossoms and shines
and shrivels and ceases
in harmony
with what actually is;
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Be You Too Full
Goodbye to our lives lived in disguise.
And goodbye to all deceit.
We might have known those masquerades,
But above that now we reach!
It's a new tomorrow that we've got.
It's so new in many ways.
Yesterdays are gone...
And none of them with us stay.
It's a new beginning that we'll start.
All mistakes we've made erased.
True wishes for our happiness,
Are raised,
To praise...
Like a flower grows,
ooo-ooo-ooo
Beautiful-beautiful...
Be-y ou-too-full,
Like a flower grows.
Goodbye to our lives lived in disguise.
And goodbye to all deceit.
We might have known those masquerades,
But above that now we reach!
Like,
A flower grows,
ooo-ooo-ooo
Beautiful-beautiful...
Be-y ou-too-full,
Like a flower grows.
Ooo-ooo-ooo
Beautiful-beautiful. ..
Be-you-too-full,
Like a flower grows.
Ooo-ooo-ooo
Beautiful-beautiful. ..
Be-You-Too-Full,
Like a flower grows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Death In The Morning...!
A single solitary sun ray
Dashing through the morning dew
Touched the side of the little yellow flower
Trying to wake up spredding yellow petals
A top the green grassy hill...
The birds washing their faces
Whistling little tunes
Glanced at the flower
With a delight in their eyes...
Like the blade of a fencing sword
Racing through the wind
The sharp edge of the grass cutters cutter
Caught the little flower
Chopping it into thousand yellow specks...
Among the green slivers
That showered back on to the grass
Little golden yellow specks
Smiled sadly a last smile
Shattered dew drops
Lazily settled down
Kissing the yellow dust
Trying to feel the flower
Trying to kiss its face...!
poem by Rowving Smith
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Storyteller Emma Jean
I’m wearing a sparkling blue ring,
from precious Mother Emma Jean.
This ring gives me power to storytell,
Emma Jean told stories and she did it well.
Now she told a story I will never forget,
she weaves the story of the “Headless Horseman”.
telling her story in Missouri at a really young age,
better then Grimm’s Fairy Tales writes it on the page.
Her voice changes in fluctuation and stance,
weaving words like a rhythmic dance.
Even though Emma Jean’s gone,
I will tell her stories so they will live on.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.15,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emma Jean’s Free
Emma Jean is flying free,
flying over the fields of green,
For when she was on this plane,
she had to walk with a cane.
Now she’s free as free as can be,
with her beautiful colored wings.
Flying up through the trees,
She can see everything.
From colors bright to bold,
like pink, orange and gold.
Being a butterfly in the sky
she is so happy again in time.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.9,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The Shortest Moment That The Butterfly Tries To Speak
how many flutters of its wings is its lifetime?
not a hundred, this butterfly with blue shaking lines on its wings
some dots of black on the lower tip
some flaps of dust as you hold it.
we love to see it freely hovering from one flower to another
blending with its colors, it is not trying to hide anything
beautiful, it is showing itself, beautiful butterfly,
how gentle, soft to our hearts as we watch it
there is no sound of its wings and its graceful feeding on the nectars
then it rests on a leaf. we leave it there.
the wind last night was strong.
we see the leaf where it stayed on the pebbled ground.
there are no wings. there is no trace where the blue butterfly is.
how many flutters did that butterfly make?
such a brief moment, yet so beautiful
that is the message of the life of its lost wings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thorn in the Heart
The flower that I wasted time to shine on because water was all you needed
I sprinkled other flowers of knowledge and the results didn't show if it took or not
You still glowed your beautiful red
I still remember the light on your golden pedal eyes
I remember the fragrance that seeped from your arum colored skin but you're no lily
You are the flower that is adored by even the man with little knowledge of why you are so beautiful
But to be fair, you have not an idea of why you make men smile and women envious
You believe it is from your pedals, I believe it is from your buds protected within the pedals
But who am I, but a gardener with an eye on the most riveting flower that grows in a garden that is not my own?
To the only flower that I held close to my heart: Rose.
poem by Leonard Dantzler
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You”re Still You
The same hair curling on your head
At 49, you look younger,
There are no wrinkles on your forehead
The cheeks still smooth and tight
Your eyes still glow
Like fireflies reflected in the mirror
The moon against the sky
The way you talk defies the years of your absence
The way you look at me
Your way your gaze flies like a butterfly
Hovering back to me like tender hands
Of a woman
Caressing my face
Like golden yellow wing
Fluttering on the petals of a flower
Indeed, you are still you
Loving me
In gentle restraint and
I am deeply saddened
By my own kind of same
Usual indifference
Of the clouds drifting
Without even the thought
Of stopping by the
Peaks of trees
As you open yourself to the sun like
A tight bud opening its petals
Finally exposing its true gentle colors
A flower blooming
To the kindness of sunshine
And the freshness of the air
That this world can offer
I spread my wings like a yellow butterfly
Fluttering away to another garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storyteller Emma Jean
I’m wearing a sparkling blue ring,
from precious Mother Emma Jean.
This ring gives me power to storytell,
Emma Jean told stories and she did it well.
Now she told a story I will never forget,
she weaves the story of the “Headless Horseman”.
telling her story in Missouri at a really young age,
better then Grimm’s Fairy Tales writes it on the page.
Her voice changes in fluctuation and stance,
weaving words like a rhythmic dance.
Even though Emma Jean’s gone,
I will tell her stories so they will live on.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.15,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emerson
I saw the bee!
But when i came around to your garden, it turned into a butterfly;
Yes, in the land of your muse where you have a beautiful garden.
For, true love brought me closer to you.
This is about the wonderful garden of your love! !
And of all the things planted in this garden;
But, your magical works tranformed this bee that i saw into a butterfly,
However, i will always like to visit this garden of love.
I am Emerson and, this bee that i saw attracted me to your beautiful garden;
And like the muse of true love in the land of beautiful flowers,
But, this magical touch will always be in my mind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Blue Butterfly
blue butterfly
so blue fluttering alone
hovering on my yellow green leaf
and stopping for a while
on my shiny, brown twig
tell me if i am smooth
just tell me if
if am good
then leave
blue butterfly
do not ask if my heart is real
do not ask if you can have it
i do not have a heart anymore
for you see i am just this
tree, this twig, this leaf
but blue butterfly
if ever i have a heart
please
do not ask about it
i give it to no one
i am smooth
i am too good
to be owned by
someone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Golden Daffodil's
Oh, what joy my eyes behold
To see such beauty there unfold,
And my heart with pleasure fills
When sun from ebbing winter days
Bring forth the Golden Daffodil's.
Lovely flower, majestic king
Who God awakes in early spring
So cloth'd in all your golden hue
No flower on the garden scene
Is as beautiful as you.
With silent voices and knodding heads
Gayly dancing in swirling beds
Your beauty in the garden spills,
And lifts the lonely hearts of all
Oh, Daffodil's, Oh, Daffodil's.
Dazzling in your sunny place
You fill the garden with poise and grace
Your smell is sweet, your color bold,
And for the often pensive mood
You are the flower to the soul.
All too soon under an early spring sky
Leaves will yellow, crumble and die
Sweet flower that we long to stay
Slips away in peaceful sleep
To stir our hearts another day.
By
Richard Netherland Cook
poem by Richard Netherland Cook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emma Jean’s Free
Emma Jean is flying free,
flying over the fields of green,
For when she was on this plane,
she had to walk with a cane.
Now she’s free as free as can be,
with her beautiful colored wings.
Flying up through the trees,
She can see everything.
From colors bright to bold,
like pink, orange and gold.
Being a butterfly in the sky
she is so happy again in time.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.9,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A flower to kiss
Aflower to kiss,
the flower yet to be flowering
So cute but not yet cluttering
in the bowl, the flower is the sent
The yet beautiful but greatly cute
The flower, flowering a glory
Then, now the smell is the scent
Glory, glory is the name
The rose flower standing amiss
The rose flower that tantalises
In the midst of the green garden
Such a light in the natural eyes
The golden eyes sparkling
In the flower, so flowered
In the flower, yet to kiss
So eyes get the truth
In the flower of the days
Each day, tomorrow and yet to reborn
The world flower, flowered, flowering
And the flower, flowered yet to kiss
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Summer Rainbows
It's that beautiful summer sky..
Like blue raspberries
I dare to try...
Freshly squeezed home made orange tropicana...
To wash down my yellow banana...
Ruby red cherries
How sweet the summer berries..
Dark green rhines
Of sweet red watermelon..
The perfect scenario of heaven...
The perfect summer rainbow...
There are sweet little secrets
In our green crowded garden...
They do grow...
So the next time
You look into that beautiful summer sky
With your fruitful eyes...
Take a bite of that summer rainbow
In your garden
Just below..
poem by Saundra Diamante
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