Distant Winters
There are spring flowers
Exuding an exhilarating fragrance
And unimaginable beauty.
If nurtured, they flourish
Throughout the summer.
In late autumn, every garden is sad
As the colors fade
And every delicate petal
Begins to fall to the ground.
There are certain flowers
That bring us immense joy for awhile
And then they’re never seen again.
Remain someone’s endearing flower
For as long as you have your being in the sunlight of life,
And then, perhaps,
The perfume of your love
Will long be wafted
Into the hearts you’ve touched
After distant winters
Have carried you far away.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Related quotes
Flowers Of My Heart
Enter my flowers
love becomes an open
door
into my hearts way
color my love red
the passion of this
blossom
brings fire to my
life
pink and delicate
this rose belongs to
my heart
she overwhelms me
in the purity of
this lovely rose bud
white
I always find delight
I melt in the nectar
of this beautiful
flower
dainty and yellow.
I love.!
the essence of my
coral rose
a blend of many
colors
so endearing
a late bloomer
yet so lovely
adding to my bouquet
once again I come
to the flowers of my
heart
lost in their beauty.
poem by Heather Burns
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Flowers, Beautiful Flowers
Life is that precious and divine,
Souls journey as per schedule,
Visit places and people,
smile and laugh,
Weep and cry together,
Come alone and go alone,
Nothing brought, nothing taken!
Just it is like flower,
Blossom and spread its fragrance,
Put a signature on several hearts,
Gone flower, never come,
Memory of its beauty,
Aura remains all the time everywhere
In hearts of those who had seen it!
People too are like flowers,
That flowers in the garden of divine,
Some are beautiful,
Some by their wisdom and knowledge,
Some with deeds and virtues,
Flowers, beautiful flowers of God's Garden!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Flower Basket
Bring to me the flowers of Spring
In a woven straw basket brown
Pretty Little Maids all in a row
Petal's strewn 'cross the town
Oh so delightful in the Springtime
Resplendent in the Summer air
A garden basket of sweet scented blooms
Of The Maiden's Fair
Most beautiful to all breath-taking
Their aroma's splash the breeze
Velvet soft-like petals abloom
In The Secret Garden With Ease
They living out their complete prime
Beautifying Others Life
Their fragrance emulating upon a zephr
Numbing all of this worlds strife
Long before the rustic fall comes calling
With It's Oft' Northern Breeze
Chasing away the flowers and the green
Ending the blooms sweet life
With Ice Cold Freeze
poem by Theodora Onken
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A Flower's Fragrance Declare The World
In friendship's fragrant garden
The flower is the poetry of reproduction.
None can have a healthy love for flowers
unless he loves the wild ones.
Everything has been thought of before
but the difficulty is to think of it again.
In the hope of reaching the moon
men fail to see the flowers
And it's my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
flowers are our constant friends.
The gardens that make us happiest flourish
A flower's fragrance declares to all the world
poem by Ezna Stephna
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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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A Lemon Sunshine Day
To float among the new summer clouds
and under a new full silver moon I can
see the shadows looking back down at me
to smell the night time fragrance from
the first Honey Suckle trees to bloom
to feel the new summer winds blowing
through my hair, whispering new
summer secrets in my ear.
And on the first new dawn of summer
to smell new smells, and natures old
forgotten familiar ones to stop and
hear a Robins babies peeping from
their nest hidden sunggled among
the Honey Suckle flowers, and branches.
The crickets are performing their first
concert of the summer.
With the smell of fresh summer
dirt comes Gods creatures so
small their emergeing from
cracks and crevasses of the
ground after their winter slumber.
Grandmas tulips are no longer
sleeping, their begining to stretch
looking up to that lemon summer sun,
to warm their new tips that have
started to emerge up through the ground.
Each new summer day some thing
new awakens to show its beauty..
New sounds, forgotten sounds
my garden has slept far to long.
Now the lemon summer sun has
started to do her job winter blankets
are no longer needed the blooms
have yet to be born, their in their
embryo stage.
But it will not be long until Gods
color pallette will explode and
the flowers will stand up and dance
in their dresses of beautiful colors.
The fragrance will fill the garden
all of this under the lemon summer
sun.
And on this the first day of summer.
GAYLE GOFF
JAN 2009
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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A Winter Bloom,
In winter a flower blooms
unique and vivid
It sweet scent looms
Bringing out all its essence
A winters gift
In its eccentric presence
stands out like a star
In the dark clear sky
It dazzles with beauty
A treat to the eye
So vulnerable and fragile
But still full of mite
The storms don't harm
The frost cant bite
As the spring
Begins to settle
The flower whimpers
And drops a petal
spring flowers begin to bloom
but this lonely blossom
Meets its doom
poem by Nic Hillen
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A Reason for Every Season (My ode to the seasons and Indian summer.)
There is a purpose that God and nature gave us every season.
Fall, winter, spring, and summer always happens for this reason.
In the fall all the trees turn many cool colors and paint a wonderful hue.
Winter arrives the temperature drops and can make some of us blue.
When spring is near they say April showers bring May flowers.
The weather becomes hotter when summer arrives.
The summer also brings us June weddings and brides..
Without the seasons then life for all mankind would be just a bummer.
We all wish for our weather outside to be like a warm Indian summer.
*I got inspired this write my poem after I read the poems; ‘INDIAN SUMMER’ by Emily Dickinson and the other poem is called ‘LOVE IS LIKE AN INDIAN SUMMER’ by Sue Raymer Woods.
Definition Indian summer - noun is a name given to a period of sunny, warm weather in autumn, not long before winter.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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A Pantoum - What Flower Do I Want To Be?
What flower do i want to be?
I ask myself in garden of the world,
In front of it i humble contemplate,
Amazed by beautiness that lies in it.
I ask myself in garden of the world,
A rose with seductive suave fragrance i feel,
Amazed by beautiness that lies in it,
So romantic feelings the velvet rose petals awakes in me.
A rose with seductive suave fragrance i feel,
Or a chrysanthemum with charismatic perfume,
So romantic feelings the velvet rose petals awakes in me,
Such amazing pearl of autumn is the elegant chrysanthemum.
Or a chrysanthemum with charismatic perfume,
Or a tulip with perfect shapes and smooth lines,
Such amazing pearl of autumn is the elegant chrysanthemum,
Such a worthy tulip rising up like a pray towards the sun.
Or a tulip with perfect shapes and smooth lines,
Or another flowers with delicate design,
Such a worthy tulip rising up like a pray towards the sun,
So amazing flowers lies in front of me.
Or another flowers with delicate design,
Garden of the world is infinite,
Such amazing flowers lie in front of me,
From all of these beauties i wonder.
Garden of the world is infinite,
In front of it i humble contemplate,
From all of these beauties i wonder,
What flower do i want to be?
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Love's Autumn
YES, love, the Spring shall come again,
But not as once it came:
Once more in meadow and in lane
The daffodils shall flame,
The cowslips blow, but all in vain;
Alike, yet not the same.
The roses that we pluck’d of old
Were dew’d with heart’s delight;
Our gladness steep’d the primrose-gold
In half its lovely light:
The hopes are long since dead and cold
That flush’d the wind-flowers’ white.
Oh, who shall give us back our Spring?
What spell can fill the air
With all the birds of painted wing
That sang for us whilere?
What charm reclothe with blossoming
Our lives, grown blank and bare?
What sun can draw the ruddy bloom
Back to hope’s faded rose?
What stir of summer re-illume
Our hearts’ wreck’d garden-close?
What flowers can fill the empty room
Where now the nightshade grows?
’T is but the Autumn’s chilly sun
That mocks the glow of May;
’T is but the pallid bindweeds run
Across our garden way,
Pale orchids, scentless every one,
Ghosts of the summer day.
Yet, if it must be so, ’t is well:
What part have we in June?
Our hearts have all forgot the spell
That held the summer noon;
We echo back the cuckoo’s knell,
And not the linnet’s tune.
What shall we do with roses now,
Whose cheeks no more are red?
What violets should deck our brow,
Whose hopes long since are fled?
Recalling many a wasted vow
And many a faith struck dead.
Bring heath and pimpernel and rue,
The Autumn’s sober flowers:
At least their scent will not renew
The thought of happy hours,
Nor drag sad memory back unto
That lost sweet time of ours.
Faith is no sun of summertide,
Only the pale, calm light
That, when the Autumn clouds divide,
Hangs in the watchet height,—
A lamp, wherewith we may abide
The coming of the night.
And yet, beneath its languid ray,
The moorlands bare and dry
Bethink them of the summer day
And flower, far and nigh,
With fragile memories of the May,
Blue as the August sky.
These are our flowers: they have no scent
To mock our waste desire,
No hint of bygone ravishment
To stir the faded fire:
The very soul of sad content
Dwells in each azure spire.
I have no violets: you laid
Your blight upon them all:
It was your hand, alas! that made
My roses fade and fall,
Your breath my lilies that forbade
To come at Summer’s call.
Yet take these scentless flowers and pale,
The last of all my year:
Be tender to them; they are frail:
But if thou hold them dear,
I ’ll not their brighter kin bewail,
That now lie cold and sere.
poem by John Howard Payne
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A Flower Of His Heart
He is walking in his garden,
With so many flowers surrounding him,
He is among his lovely flowers,
He feels happiness as he enjoys their fragrances.
In a corner some red flowers,
Raise their stalks toward the sun,
In that color sleeps the passion,
And sensuality of the women, with their charms.
Next to it he finds some white flowers,
His mind get clensed of bad thoughts,
All purity and innocence of the living,
Is concentrated in a beautiful white rose.
But he sees some orange flowers over there,
So intense, so joyful to his eyes,
They are like the warmth of the summer,
In a wonderful, pleasant day of life.
And suddenly a simple flower show up to him,
She was not well-dressed in amazing colors like her fancy friends,
But she was so beautiful in her simplicity and grace,
Just the flower of his heart that he always expected to have.
In this life beauty is not important and fragile,
It matters more what pleases your heart,
When it is about love and its magic,
You'll adore that simple flower, no matter what.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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In The Winter Garden
Winter has visited our garden my love
Trees have been stripped bare and flowers wilt
A frost has been laid upon the ground
Even the birds have taken to flight, away
Amid the silence of the morning I walk
Through our garden which we nurtured
How solemn it now looks without colour
The summer seems but a distant memory
How beautiful it looked back then
How beautiful it will look once more
But now in the mornings drab light
With barren trees and wilted flowers
I walk upon the hardened earth
Which feels like stone beneath my feet
We talked of planting a fruit tree
For flavour and shade in years to come
Now that is an idea in waiting
Till winter has passed, and spring returns
Winter is here in our garden my love
As I watch the vapour of my breath rise
I say your name, a love for all time
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Waiting For Spring
Though cloudy skies, and northern blasts,
Retard the gentle spring awhile;
The sun will conqu'ror prove at last,
And nature wear a vernal smile.
The promise, which from age to age,
Has brought the changing seasons round;
Again shall calm the winter's rage,
Perfume the air, and paint the ground.
The virtue of that first command,
I know still does, and will prevail;
That while the earth itself shall stand,
The spring and summer shall not fail.
Such changes are for us decreed;
Believers have their winters too;
But spring shall certainly succeed,
And all their former life renew.
Winter and spring have each their use,
And each, in turn, his people know;
One kills the weeds their hearts produce,
The other makes their graces grow.
Though like dead trees awhile they seem,
Yet having life within their root,
The welcome spring's reviving beam
Draws forth their blossoms, leaves, and fruit.
But if the tree indeed be dead,
It feels no change, though spring return,
Its leafless naked, barren head,
Proclaims it only fit to burn.
Dear Lord, afford our souls a spring,
Thou know'st our winter has been long;
Shine forth, and warm our hearts to sing,
And thy rich grace shall be our song.
poem by John Newton
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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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True Human To Serve
Garden as such looks so beautiful
Different colors with flowers plentiful
Each one smells differently and spreads the fragrance
No one can notice how and which one does it at once
To bring them together and show it as one
The fragrance doubles power and presents as unique one
With one show whole environment is like perfume
As if hatred has disappeared and loves only to consume
Can we not act as garden flowers to smell?
With different culture, races and tolerance to tell
To brethrens all over world that yes we stand as one
So far human blood is concerned we can be separated by none
We shall act, cry and suffer together
But not yield to any division either
We want no more pathetic shows
As we feel their presence to grow
No matter what we profess
It hardly caters the need to resurface
We shall take care of ourselves
Behave as true human and serve
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sonnet Of Motherhood X
I walked among the flowers that bend their heads
Low to the earth and back again to light,
Hearing them prattle of their blue and white—
Violet and jasmine in the bordered beds.
They whispered them of every wing that weds
388ഊFragrance to fragrance in the dusky night;
And, seeing them, I knew another sight,
And saw them bowing where all Beauty spreads.
I touched each petal with the sunbeams flaked—
Roses and pansies of the early morn,
Lilies that lilted of the moon’s light grace,
And left them hushed when all my joy was slaked;
For in the garden of my soul, God-born,
Each flower made beauty for my child’s soft face.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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Spring-turned Autumn
Love between you and me
Knowingly or unknowingly
Budded before we blossomed,
But blossomed after we withered,
Having gone onto hibernation,
Fortunately or unfortunately,
In our spring of animation
When we branched severally.
Love between you and me
Belatedly or befittingly
Unfurled its stored fragrance
And permeated our inner sense
Only in our autumn of emptiness
When we headed for senescence,
And yet gives us a new sensation
As though we’re back to spring.
Love between you and me
Uniquely or uncommonly
Bloomed, not like a flower
That in spring opens with vigour
And ends with bearings in summer,
But one, seeded before carnal sphere,
Still out-living our carnal desire
To bring to the fall the eternal Spring.
Love between you and me
Intently and intrinsically
Is a Jasmine in its emergence
That exudes to us only fragrance
Which we breathe with all innocence
Without disturbing others’ balance.
Love for each other gives us all the vibes
To feel ever springs and no falls.
Blossomed in autumn
Our naïve love,
And brought to autumn
Ever spring now 25.03.1999
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Gardner of beauty
Your beauty is like that of a Gardner tending to his flowers making life more beautiful with each day you tend to them. I could only wish to be one of your flowers in your garden and hope to feel your gentle hands as you would tend to me. Your beauty is to me as rain is to a flower, giving it nourishment for life. your beauty is my rain and it makes my love grow for you like that of the flower. Your loving soul is that of Gods warmth coming from the sun to a flower. Your love is my sun and feeling it's warmth to the touch it makes my soul grow as the flower would on a summer day. How I ask to be your flower and you be my gardener of life.
7-1-09
poem for my wife
poem by Timothy Honeycutt
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