Life for Death
A newly born flower
Slowly blowing her horn
Fresh grasses all over
Smiling on its thorns
Breeze dancing
Moist climbing
Trunks twisting
Leaves flying
The majestic flower
Now walking through mountains
Of darkest trunks whispering
Of bloody leaves haunting
Passing through the pavement
Blear eyes on strength
Largest trees on coven
Fangs of leaves on vent
Her breath on every fight
Burning with her own light
Searching the truth inclined
The strength behind enemy lines
But they have covered the night
They have killed the knight
Bless the flower tonight
She had made her last sacrifice
Related quotes
The Flower of Leaves
The Flower of Leaves, does not speak, nor sing!
She breathes intensly and plays on sweet strings
The Flower of Leaves, in spring, does not bloom,
She hangs in the heat and weeps low in gloom
The Flower of Leaves, shrouds mis'ry and pain,
Yet exudes in song warm swelling disdain
The Flower of Leaves, shades but one pale green,
Yet blossoms 'neath moonlight in silv'ry gleam
She relieves, and like Great Nature, serene,
In stormless gardens passes through unseen
Sublime as rainfall, sincere as the sea,
O Heaven, such life that blooms before me!
Who only knows that which my heart believes,
In such mystique of The Flower of Leaves!
poem by Iam notThou
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Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost
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In My Country
The window of summer
Is now open
And like the eyes
Of newly born babies
They shut for a while
Like a strip tease
Like a dragonfly
Abandoned on the table
How warm summer is
With jubilant calls
It makes a flower turn back
To a fresh petal
a bud
We sit on the grass
And listen to the breeze
To the leaves of some grasses
Sprouting like they are
Very tiny dessert flowers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Valley
Said the yellow-haired Spirit of Spring
To the white-footed Spirit of Snow,
“On the wings of the tempest take wing,
And leave me the valleys, and go.”
And, straightway, the streams were unchained,
And the frost-fettered torrents broke free,
And the strength of the winter-wind waned
In the dawn of a light on the sea.
Then a morning-breeze followed and fell,
And the woods were alive and astir
With the pulse of a song in the dell,
And a whisper of day in the fir.
Swift rings of sweet water were rolled
Down the ways where the lily-leaves grew,
And the green, and the white, and the gold,
Were wedded with purple and blue.
But the lips of the flower of the rose
Said, “where is the ending hereof?
Is it sweet with you, life, at the close?
Is it sad to be emptied of love?”
And the voice of the flower of the peach
Was tender and touching in tone,
“When each has been grafted on each,
It is sorrow to live on alone.”
Then the leaves of the flower of the vine
Said, “what will there be in the day
When the reapers are red with my wine,
And the forests are yellow and grey?”
And the tremulous flower of the quince
Made answer, “three seasons ago
My sisters were star-like, but since,
Their graves have been made in the snow.”
Then the whispering flower of the fern
Said, “who will be sad at the death,
When Summer blows over the burn,
With the fierceness of fire in her breath?”
And the mouth of the flower of the sedge
Was opened to murmur and sigh,
“Sweet wind-breaths that pause at the edge
Of the nightfall, and falter, and die.”
poem by Henry Kendall
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Seasons
I
As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.
The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.
Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings
until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.
II
Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid
until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food
and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble
until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.
III
Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing
but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe
and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open
when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Confusing Flower
When your flower is blooming red
Under the sunshine,
You leave me here to bleed.
When your flower is dying and rotten,
I'm the one you are missing and
Never forgotten.
Let this flower bloom,
So i can move on.
Let this flower die,
So i can smile,
Cause it leaves me confused
And made me cry.
poem by Jann Aquarius
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Wanting The Moon
Not the moon. A flower
on the other side of the water.
The water sweeps past in flood,
dragging a whole tree by the hair,
a barn, a bridge. The flower
sings on the far bank.
Not a flower, a bird calling
hidden among the darkest trees, music
over the water, making a silence
out of the brown folds of the river's cloak.
The moon. No, a young man walking
under the trees. There are lanterns
among the leaves.
Tender, wise, merry,
his face is awake with its own light,
I see it across the water as if close up.
A jester. The music rings from his bells,
gravely, a tune of sorrow,
I dance to it on my riverbank.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Little flower
It seems she is the beautiest flower.
Hidden in the darkest tower.
Hidden in the deepest dark.
Wearing all her thorns so sharp.
The flower I do like so much.
The flower I'm not allowed to touch.
The flower I'm thinking of.
Although she's sometimes so rough.
Flower of my misery.
Shine on in eternaty.
Flower of my happiness.
Eased away my deep distress.
The flower is so far away.
Watch her growing day by day.
She lives on the other side.
But she makes my days so bright.
poem by Sven Meinecke
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Life is Like A Flower
Life is like a flower.
It starts out as a seed,
Then a root,
A stem with a leaf,
Leaves and then a beautiful flower.
A baby.
Then learns how 2 talk,
Then the child is a flower.
Life is like a flower,
You are a flower
poem by LeLe Gallon
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Carry On The Spark In Your Heart
there will be lots of dry leaves to fall
from a tree to produce a fruit
more leaves to be blown by the wind
to make that flower with a sweet scent
and bright color
there will be thorns and worms and
sickening barks
there will even be deaths of
some trees not just
the shedding of leaves
but what matters most
is for you to carry on
with the mission
to bloom
do not let that spark die
that fire that keeps burning in your heart
make it live
carry on carry on
it does not just take a blink of an eye
to make this
beautiful universe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sad Flower
I was walking through a flower garden
and this beautiful flower laid over looking so sad.
It drew me closer i just had to know why?
As bent over and put the flower in my hand
my eyes got rushed with this intense light!
Then i could see with pure delight
what made the flower so sad.
A lady name rush was there before me
and held the flower in her hand
and give a kiss and told the flower i love
you.
Then she was gone
with a mighty rush of wind
for the beautiful flower has been dethrone
poem by Randy Hogan
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A Touch Of Heaven
I felt at peace that bright summer day
As I lay in the shade of the big oak tree
Listening to the whispering of the quiet brook
Softly treading it's way to the wide open sea.
With the rustling of the leaves pushed by the soft summer breeze
whispering in my ear,
I watched in delight a delicate, golden winged butterfly
Flitting from Flower to flower in the cool open air
And my heart then opened to the might of the Creator and the
Everlasting beauty of His creations.in display
And felt a touch of Heaven on that soft floor of leaves that bright
Summer day.
poem by Michael Kersting
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Glimpse
the flower may curse
the caterpillar at first glance
consuming its leaves
greedily
rushing for the next stage
of its life
then the silence of the cocoon
where the flower
doubts
and then the excitement
of the birth
of the yellow butterfly
the hope of the flower
and when
the flying begins
the flower unfolds
blooms
and the consortium begins
the nectar flows
and the flower
turns into another fruit
back
to its seed form
as the butterfly
nears its span
like a glimpse
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Little Cycle Of The Flower And The Caterpillar
the flower may curse
the caterpillar at first glance
consuming its leaves
greedily
rushing for the next stage
of its life
then the silence of the cocoon
where the flower
doubts
and then the excitement
of the birth
of the yellow butterfly
the hope of the flower
and when
the flying begins
the flower unfolds
blooms
and the consortium begins
the nectar flows
and the flower
turns into another fruit
back
to its seed form
as the butterfly
nears its span
like a glimpse
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Star's Song
Flower! Flower, why repine?
God knows each creature's place;
He hides within me when I shine,
And your leaves hide His face.
And you are near as I to Him,
And you reveal as much
Of that eternal soundless hymn
Man's words may never touch.
God sings to man through all my rays
That wreathe the brow of night,
And walks with me thro' all my ways --
The everlasting light.
Flower! Flower, why repine?
He chose on lowly earth,
And not in heaven where I shine,
His Bethlehem and birth.
Flower! Flower, I see Him pass
Each hour of night and day,
Down to an altar and a Mass
Go thou! and fade away.
Fade away upon His shrine!
Thy light is brighter far
Than all the light wherewith I shine
In heaven, as a star.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
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You Are Like A Flower
You are like a flower
Growing in beauty
Nature has its own way
Making you uniquely
So I’ll wait until the day
You sprout with love
Because anything less
Would not be enough
You are like a flower
Strong with the wind
Never giving up your roots
You grow and never let loose
Should I protect you anymore?
When the strength you have
Is already within you
You are like a flower
Giving off good qualities
Selfless and fragrant
Keeping yourself steady
You know something new
Comes out everyday
You are like a flower
You attract attention
With your good look
You are sensitive
It is what makes you strong
Though you can be easily plucked
You fight for your life
You decide what is what
You are a like a flower
For a flower is honest
What you see is what you get
You stand out like a flower should
I will remember how gentle you are
A flower in need of love, you are set
Because even if you are all these
You are soft and delicate
It’s my pleasure to make sure
That nothing changes it
My Flower
poem by Joshua Gilchrist
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A Fresh Flower Blue
It's a fresh flower blue.
I wrap it in a sheet.
I love its scent, it's hues.
It sips the mist, the dew
and leaves an odor, treat
It's a fresh flower blue.
Its pets, the bees and crew
they meet, they greet, they eat.
I love its scent, its hues.
From dawn to dusk they woo
and bask in rain or heat.
It's a fresh flower blue.
There's a flower for you
There's one for me. A treat!
I love its scent, its hues.
The day I say adieu
I send you one so sweet.
It's a fresh flower blue
I love its scent, its hue.
poem by Agatha Lai
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Flower - Flower Love
flower - flower love
flower - flower love
I come with flower and love
into your life that's full of hope
flower - flower love
I bring you flower and love
as a truth of my heart that never drop
I am a butterfly for you
with blackish orange in colours on me
I will never fly away from you
and never stop watching over you
for
flower - flower love
you are my flower
and you are my love
poem by Juahta Sitepu
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Flower to Flower
I came across one flower
While walking in a garden
It saw me and gave a smile
I too smiled and walked
Each day in garden I smiled
One day I gazed at flower
At its plant and roots closely
I observed its dance in wind
And its dance made me sing
It made me smile all my time
Everyday I went to flower
Smiled with it and came back
My days went like seconds
Nights passed like years
Flower made me its lover
So I wrote songs on its dance
On its lovely beautiful smile
All about its charming beauty
And my state of dying slowly
In which I am smiling daily
One day I saw flower singing
In the garden while jogging
Song reveled its moving off
From my garden to a house
Of loved one from its past
I smiled on all my songs
While writing a new song
Its song of flower to flower
Which I gave to my flower
When departing from my lover
poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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AE01 Mismatch
beneath branches piles of leaves
rise weeds, young trees, skinny
vines wrap around tree trunks
quiet, dark, warm in winter night
with sleeping bag, tent for rain
can foods, gallon of fresh water
no light, i waited for sun to shine
buried my tent with leaves, i see
surrounding with my hunting scope
sleep at day time find food at night
good plan for a dreamer, why hide
world is open wide from hills to tide
poem by Manonton Dalan
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