Manuka Tea Tree Kiwi Nectar
tiny miracle flowers
scent tuned appease
distempered souls
mānuka honey
kiwi wild flavour
wind clover
earthy oily
herbaceous
damp earth
heather
aromatic
flavour
mānuka flowers
dense branch small leaves
evergreen sirens
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Kiwi Heartbeat Poetic Chants
are tuned in distempered souls
mānuka honey is kiwi wild
wind clover flax fibre twist plait knot
ropes pull waka
rata season scarlet
letter tui bellbird chant
forest call
dawn chorus
awake spirits
melody songs
kauri earth rooted
sky stand poet
chant flies
spindle poet taxes
starvation soul
screaming write
visions boil in own blood cells
eyes boil flay flesh in vision quests
time spins fast
in seer sight
ebb tide beaches siren whales
water birth born to cry ocean songs
communicative across vast
surge arena Pacific ocean songs
mist child of Aotearoa
ride wide current ocean tides
to tip of embracing Cape Reinga
Pohutukawa
tree is rest eternal spirit
step home waiting...
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let Go, And Dance!
the burnt branch,
has a name and a prayer.
the small child understands
the language of sparrows.
tiny snowflakes shout,
even the snail leaves a trace.
the rough touch of the cat's tongue,
speaks of history and hope.
yet we go mourning,
unable to see or to hear.
we rinse our mouths,
to get rid of the taste.
we crucify flowers,
in the name of beauty.
but the blood on our hands,
has the scent of our souls!
let go, and dance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Flower To Auroville Mother-103
Look, she too joins to flavour
Smiling at each other ambrosial
Her leaves stuck to woody server
In whorls tiny flora of sweet basil
Curative culinary sacred aromatic
Hark, entwining through how well
In tangling hush joining together
Help making of a garland wonderful
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Walking Seed Own Time Lines
creative soul quite out of sorts
are you really source defined
by what you past have done?
remembered by what you have written?
does not forest, lakes, rivers,
windswept beaches, ocean tides,
ebb flow in kiwi artistic souls?
do you not hunger starve feel
beginnings are glory dawn chorus
with an eternal day sun bean streams
birth begging come write me?
past writes be they haka or poi songs
lilting lullaby soft night whispered blessings
stretching dark far back to jaw thigh bones
stretch dark far back to ancestor jaw thigh bones
ancestor blessings running sleeping
dream running in waking
eye infant sleep listening...
eye infant ancient sleep listening...
artistic walking time lines
artistic walking seed own time lines
hooks fishing catch spirit minds
wear colour cloak rainbow bird feathers...
to be an artist and deny art
is to deny self decades
may be devoted invested
into deep wound near fever social causes
delving into tunnels lighting candles
holding lamps high warming other hands
but art denied crucifies poetic souls
song of self is wine sung trodden in life caverns
art is not mainstream commercials remix copycat dance routines
gaga sales pitch rip offs
never climb stairways
to heaven sung unique songs
are tuned in distempered souls
mānuka honey is kiwi wild
wind clover flax fibre twist plait knot
ropes pull waka
rata season scarlet
letter tui bellbird chant
forest call
dawn chorus
awake spirits
melody songs
kauri earth rooted
sky stand poet
chant flies
spindle poet taxes
starvation soul
screaming write
visions boil in own blood cells
eyes boil flay flesh in vision quests
time spins fast
in seer sight
ebb tide beaches siren whales
water birth born to cry ocean songs
communicative across vast
surge arena Pacific ocean songs
mist child of Aotearoa
ride wide current ocean tides
to tip of embracing Cape Reinga
Pohutukawa
tree is rest eternal spirit
step home waiting...
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tart
Hear silver trumpets will trill in Arabic streets of Seville
Oranges roll in the gutter
And you pick them up
And peel back the skin
To the red fruit within
But the flavour is
Tart
And the flavour is
Tart
Is it something you crave?
And you say that you only feel bitterness
When you know it's a lie, lie, lie
Wild with a blackberry bush
There were blossoms of cherries to crush
There, at the edge of the asphalt tempting fingertips
They stain your hand, press too hard
They'll colour your lips
But the flavour is
Tart
And the flavour is
Tart
Is it something you crave?
'Cos you say that you only feel bitterness
Would it kill you to show us a little sweetness?
Repeat chorus
Odd, where nothing else grows
It was something like love that she chose
Always a creature of habit
When pity would do
She wore down that heel with no feeling
She kept on her shoes
Repeat chorus
Nylon was hung from a peg
And a kohl black seam ran down her leg
Fishermen look for their nets
And send their regrets
The bug lay there broken
She spoke, "Is this some kind of joke?"
But the flavour is
Tart
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Canada is the essence of not being. Not English, not American, it is the mathematic of not being. And a subtle flavour - we're more like celery as a flavour.
quote by Mike Myers
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Sage
I planted some sage along
with other herbs
and got small bushes
with blue-purple flowers
and greyish-green leaves.
We used the sage
in the cooking
and sometimes in salads
to flavour it,
but in my mother’s garden
at the front gate
a gigantic blooming bush of sage
greeted me
as if I was setting my foot
into Eden itself.
It was almost a metre high
and twice that breadth
and almost similar in shape
as the neighbour’s rondavel
across the street
and I rubbed some leaves
between my fingers
and it smelt like mint to me.
[Reference: rodavel = a type of round brick hut with a grass roof.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
0010 A day, a meadow, a miracle
This is the meadow.
It slopes from bright South
down to the West and North
from the primroses in the southern hedge
down through the violets, sometimes white,
in the western hedge tipping down
to the rabbit warren and
down to the wild garlic
in perpetual shadow in the northern ditch
shouting among the nettles
this is where, each morning in May,
the world is made anew;
there are more wild flowers in this meadow
than you’ll ever see together –
cowslips, oxslips, pink mayflowers,
wild orchids, red scabious,
yellow celandines, clover, cuckoo-pint...
and as the sun curves slowly round,
and the shadow moves aside,
the flowers, saturated with the morning dew,
shine each with a crystal drop
and it’s not until you step among them
and a small cloud of moths and butterflies rise up,
that you see the meadow is so full of life,
sipping its daily bread of dew
and in an hour or so, pollen, honey;
every day this meadow
invites, invents anew
words fresh as dew –
joy, constancy, innocence,
love, freedom, rest,
wonder, praise, and gratitude –
if every day this miracle,
what of tomorrow
and the heart?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fields of Heather
If you ever go to Scotland
on a summer day,
You'll fall in love with Heather,
Heathers blooming along the
bay.
Raising their tiny heads to
address the day,
You won't believe their beauty,
They will take your breath away.
This is a magical time, Heathers
growing wild and free,
Looking at a field of flowers,
Captivated, by their beauty.
Delicate tiny bows, catching in
the wind,
They color the landscape, lovely
blossoms blend.
Heathers hues beg our attention,
From Pinks to firey Reds,
God smiled on the appearance,
Of her beautiful flower beds.
Fragrance of Honeysuckle,
The sweetness of the Rose,
Fill the air with promise,
As Heather puts on her pose.
Petals softly speak, of luck,
And good cheer,
She'll return again, in the
coming year.
Heather, is my namesake,
I am proud to say,
Long ago, and far away,
My father fell in love with.
HEATHERS
On another summer day.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Evergreen
Evergreen
Joe tanner
Sometimes love will bloom in the springtime
Then like flowers in summer it will grow
And then fade away in the winter
When the cold winds begin to blow
But when its evergreen, evergreen
It will last through the summer and winter too
When love is evergreen, evergreen
Like my love for you
So hold my hand and tell me
Youll be mine through laughter or through tears
Then let the whole world see, our love will be
Evergreen through all the years
For when its evergreen, evergreen
It will last through the summer and winter too
When love is evergreen, evergreen
Like my love for you
Transcribed by fred
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Things Clear Only to Me
The Wind swirls around me,
It swirls and shoots up a tree.
It rustles the leaves,
And over the Dryad weaves.
The wind I can see,
And things clear only to me!
Up a branch the Dryad prances,
And with the wind she dances!
Floating, the wind goes,
Up to the roof, and slows.
To the horse weathervane,
And there it ruffles his mane.
Then down I see him turn,
Not a horse, but flying unicorn!
The wind I run after,
To hear hearty laughter.
Behind the large rock I peek,
The laughing one to seek.
There a joke is read to a troll,
from a very old scroll.
I laugh too as I go,
Now the wind swoops low.
Down to the flowers small,
Where I hear tiny fairies call.
I cannot understand the sound,
Like me with grown-ups around.
Then I watch, and sigh,
As the wind lifts a dragon high.
Up there I cannot go,
Only feel the fire blow!
This is when I turn back,
The wind has gone slack.
I no longer see it swirl,
Or the other things in its' curl.
A blazing sun in the sky,
Is left from the dragon's fly.
On the flowers buzz bees,
No fairies below my knees.
I walk past the stone,
It and I are alone.
The horse up on the roof,
Makes no move, he's aloof.
The tree is empty and still,
The Dryad gone, gone until…
Until the wind comes again,
Swooping through this lane.
Then the wind I will see,
And things clear only to me!
poem by Elisabeth Hines
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Raat ki Raani (Night Queen)
Night-queen sparkled
Amidst fresh green leaves
Perfume in bunches!
Leaves hide
Behind bunches of flowers
Perfumed night!
Tiny petals
Five in numbers in
Perfect symmetry
and by morning
Some offered to earth
In gratitude for
Another day
The night queen
Sprayed an exotic perfume
Distinct from night's scent
The moon heady
With the night's scent
Slept satiated
But the sun glowed
And glowered helpless
In passion, unbound
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On the open plain (Catena Rondo)
Some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
are fresh with the glistening morning dew;
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
as bees and butterflies flutter along
birds do sing the happiest kind of song
they rejoice over a day that is new,
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
while they in massive herds do slowly pass
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds
grow to strength in a world full of big weeds,
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flowers Galore
Are there not flowers like the rose,
Those look prettier and smell better?
Yet, people do not prefer them,
Nor nurture them in tonnes for use.
Are there not flowers in the wild,
With gorgeous looks and perfumes great,
Whose birth is known to herds that graze?
God only knows why they are there!
Are there not flowers hidden well,
In forests deep and dense and dark,
But are found rarely like orchids,
Those look so splendid to the eye?
Are there not flowers raised in fields
Or found in meadows, lawns so green,
And sold as garlands for deities,
Or strewn on tombs and cemeteries?
And yet, some cannot even bud
Or blossom into flowers big;
While some get trampled under feet,
A few adorn altars of God!
Galore are flowers that we see,
Whose hues, shapes, sizes vary much;
God makes each petal, leaf and bud
With beauty that no words can tell.
Each one bears witness to God’s pow’r,
And smiles with freshness with each shower;
Each one is beautiful a flow’r;
And decks the planet earth’s bower!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-19-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Special Needs
Remember me when youre the one whos silver screen
Remember me when youre the one you always dreamed
Remember me when everyones noses start to bleed
Remember me, special needs
Just 19 and suckers dream I guess I thought you had the flavour
Just 19 and dream obscene with six months off for bad behaviour
Remember me when you clinch your movie deal
And think of me stuck in my chair that has four wheels
Remember me through flash photography and screams
Remember me, special dreams
Just 19 this suckers dream I guess I thought you had the flavour
Just 19 and dream obscene with six months off for bad behaviour
Just 19 and suckers dream I guess I thought you had the flavour
Just 19 and dream obscene with six months off for bad behaviour
Remember me...
Just 19 this suckers dream I guess I thought you had the flavour
Just 19 and dream obscene with six months off for bad behaviour
Just 19 and suckers dream I guess I thought you had the flavour
Just 19 and dream obscene with six months off for bad behaviour
Remember me...
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Come smile at me again
Come smile at me
come smile at me again.
And use the only smile you have,
the selfless and exquisite one.
And keep your eyes on me.
I'd like to study
the nuances of your smile.
Come look at me.
Come look at me again.
And use the only look you have:
The one of pure
Manuka Honey.
And keep your look on me.
I'd like to study
all the markings on your face.
Come close to me.
Come close to me again.
And hold your warm and tender body close to mine.
Come closer yet.
I'd like to study
YOU,
and hope to never graduate.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Smell Of A Woman
The smell of a woman,
When I am down there.
There's nothing on earth,
That quite can compare.
Earthy, moist, steamy, and rare,
Like tropical flowers perfuming the air.
The smell you find, at a womans core,
will make you want her, more, and more.
I can smell a woman across the street,
Way before our eyes will meet.
That delicate scent carried on the breeze,
Coming from a woman, seeking release.
The scent of a woman, when she is in heat,
You'll find yourself commonly looking for it.
And when I find it, it's a matter of time,
Till close up I smell that scent so sublime.
The smell of a woman all over my face,
The sweet scent of a woman, will have me crazed.
Don Juan Tenorio
poem by Don Juan Tenorio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sylvan Grave
Lay me not, when I die, in the place of the dead,
With the dwellings of men round my resting place spread,
But amidst the still forest, unseen and alone,
Where the waters go by with a murmuring tone;
Where the wild bird above me may wave its dark wing,
And the flowers I have loved from my ashes may spring;
Where affection's own blossom may lift its blue eye,
With an eloquent glance from the place where I lie.
Let the rose and the woodbine be there, to enwreath
A bright chaplet of bloom for the pale brow of death;
And the clover's red blossom be seen, that the hum
Of the honey-bee's wing, may for requiem come:
And when those I have loved, ‘midst the changes of earth,
The clouds of its sorrow, its sunshine of mirth,
Shall visit the spot where my cold relics lie,
And gaze on its flowers with a tear-moisten'd eye—
Let them think that my spirit still sometimes is there,
My breath the light zephyr that twines in their hair,
And these flowers, in their fragrance, a memory be,
To tell them thus sweet was their friendship to me.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!