A flower's petals
uncurling in the sunshine
I'll have the nectar.
haiku by Herbert Nehrlich
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A Flower
Sitting in a flower of light
petals cuddle my fragile heart,
like a carousel, round and round it goes,
The nectar of this flower
like a healer's power
makes my heart stronger.
Abruptly
A dark blemish
of invisible force
wants to temper with the light
the petals close and takes my heart- into its vessel
-protecting.
'I can not allow, this playful mode
so it may seem
but not mistaken'
-The flower spoke and I awaken.
poem by Kasia Fedyk
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I Wish I Were a Flower
Oh I wish I were a flower
A most beautiful flower
This is my dream
With the gentle breeze
In the springtime I will
Hop out of my earthen bed
Listen to the sweet
Chirping of the blue jays
Singing me love songs
Standing tall waiting
For kisses from Heaven
To rain down on me
When you come by
I will smile
Knowing someday-
I will brighten your home
With the sun
Stored in my petals
Later with the warmth
Of the golden sunshine
I will open my petals wide
Waiting for my love-
The honey bee
To come and savour me
For how much blessed
Could I ever be than
To be a beautiful flower
A most beautiful flower
For your enjoyment
For your pleasure
poem by Rachel Nichols
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Flower of Delight
Enter my flower
love becomes an open door
into my hearts way
Once again I come
drinking in your sweet nectar
flower of delight
Color my dreams blue
enter my lovely flower
in the morning dew.
I melt in nectar
of this beautiful flower
she overwhelmes me.
poem by Heather Burns
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This Flower
This Flower
This flower with petals so soft to touch
Cradles nature's portal
Where waves rise
and sweet ambrosia falls
This flower with petals so delicate and refined
Lay at the entryway of an open vessel
Waiting with a velvet whisper
to be filled with the seeds of nature's life
This flower with petals so tame and silent
Begs the onlooker to experience it's hiddenness
And after one look, one taste
She has caught her prize
1 April 2008
The Flaw
I remembered last night.
I told the child
that that was not blood
on our friend's body,
only red flower petals
all wet from the rains,
and to be quiet,
or we would wake him up
and ruin the special dreams
that come from sleeping
under red flower petals.
There is a flaw in the face of man
called war
that begs the question:
does the memory of the dead
hold up the living?
Perhaps sleeping
under red flower petals
will cause me to forget about it.
poem by Rebekah Gamble
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The Life History of The Little Flower
The delicate petals fanned the tiny flower,
Waking fragrantly after the nudging shower,
Shyly it peeped around the beautiful bower,
Not realising its immense power of attraction.
Its quaint face and vibrant eyes,
Made onlookers feel grateful and wise.
Emotions, spirits and thoughts nobly rise,
In appreciation of the aesthetics of nature.
It looked at the sun and the shadowy moon,
Not knowing it would miss them soon.
Life is so brief. It was getting to be noon.
But that did not dismay the flower at all.
A bee saw it from the corner of its eye,
Skilfully it zoomed down closer to pry,
Lighting on the flower with spirits high,
It soon zoomed away with its fill of nectar.
A butterfly as dainty as the flower,
Lighted on the masterpiece in the bower,
Soon it flitted away there being no bar,
To enjoy the pollen it carried with it.
The sun went down and a mild breeze blew,
A gust attracted by the flower covered with dew,
Wanted to be friends with such beauty true,
So it approached it with furious excitement.
Reaching the flower it stopped in awe,
Never having seen such excellence before
Impetuously let out a loud, exultant roar,
Encircling the flower to strengthen their bond.
The pearly flower did not know where to look,
The rush of wind its petals vigorously shook,
The blast was playing the game to the book.
Soon the fragile flower lay completely bare.
As the petals floated away in all directions,
The naughty gust being ashamed of its actions,
Quickly rushed off. That was its heartless reaction,
To the demise of the ornament of the bower.
Be inner rich
O flowers! You can have colourful petals.
More than that must there be enough nectar.
Moths come to you expecting in you nectar.
Otherwise they stay with you no longer.
Women! Enrich your heart.
01.10.2000, Madras
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Beautiful Flower Blooming
A withered flower blooming again
breeze shook the flower
the sun is shining on flower
rain water to wash the dust-filled flower
abort storm petals
storm that renders the flower petals
polling beetle sucking painful
flower that bloom so bright today
beauty exudes an aura of coolness of the beholder
spread the fragrance that invites a bee to touch
although many other flowers around it
bees sucking the flower first
choose to suck and touch the flower
lately the flower
always bloom radiate beauty
a bee was not able to get away from the flower
a bee sucking the beautiful bloomington
always produce the honey taste good
really beautiful relationship between the flower and bee
both are very compatible and complement each other
poem by meti Rahmawati
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Speak Me
Speak Me
Night has awaken water at scarf of river
Air of cold star at fan of sky
The girl who is crying at this deep night hiding face by pillow
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
The river gull looks for starfish at river
As poet looks for word’s procession of azure
What will jingle at foot of stone culture diamond!
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
The petals of flower excluded from her eye
Could butterfly hold up the rainbow in his earth?
His wants and obtains as like that of white ant-
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
Flower bloom at that earth where first step was kept
We have built this earth by that nectar of breast
I find trace of all things exchanging that glance
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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The Flower Shivers
The flower withers,
Dying today,
The flower shivers,
Wasting away,
A useless soul,
An early death,
Becoming cold,
Fade in stealth,
The flower dries,
The petals fall,
The petals lie,
The living stall,
Death of a cough,
Why thrive on?
You cannot slough,
You cannot run.
poem by Maddy Jones
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A Flower in the Rain
My dear, you are so sweet,
For you grow in a field,
Like a flower with
Beautiful petals,
And a rose that has
Many red spirals
And petals that
Make you all the more unique.
But, my dear, I know
Not whether I will always
See you, for many men
Try to chase you,
And you feel so cold,
As if you were a flower in the rain,
And that the meadow was not large
Enough for you to keep you
Warm and safe.
But, I promise,
That I will be there for you,
No matter the circumstances,
For you are my flower,
And you are my flower in the rain,
For you will grow with every drink you take.
poem by James Roberts
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Flower Petals
as the flower sheds off
its petals one by one
to the ground
i look at you closely for tonight
shall you be a flower
to me
shedding off
what petals you have
until what i see
is only
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Fairy Tale of Sorts
There once was a flower who learned how to think
evolving to harness it's best chance of life
no visible brain and no definite link
to show how or when it fell on its own knife.
For as it evolved it saw chances to rest
relying on beauty for its future seed,
as man, captivated this plant at its best
and so cultivated this true prize indeed.
As the flower developed it petals and sheen
increasingly moving away from its roots
no nectar was needed, no insects were seen
as man took his cuttings, they worked in cahoots.
Till one day the flower changed one stroke too far
assuming the men would attend,
so just as the fate of the Tsaress and Tsar,
the strings of their genes met a quite abrupt end.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
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Into it all the same.
At a distance, a flower is noted by its colour.
Once into it, the purpose of the colour is over.
Only the nectar of the flower matters.
Pleasure is drawn in churning to honey the nectar.
A wise man makes variety from his clay
rather than buying varying makes.
23.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Anguish Thoughts
I saw a flower
Not so fresh, enchanting
It has no sweet smell as roses have.
But it has the thorns of roses.
If I touch a flower
I can tell its soft or rough
But all flowers are soft
Soft petals with sweet fragrance
Make a flower beloved.
But I can’t touch this flower
For it is dangerous.
But worms found its bed
And going to destroy my little flower.
Can this secret love
Destroy her crimson petals?
poem by Abdul Hakeem Parannur
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The Dracula Flower
The flower was stretching
It's hand to find a honey-bee
To be embraced and kissed!
The flower remained
In meditation to invoke God
To sent her groom
As she bore the nectar
To be sucked and emptied
By the trunk of a honey-bee
The long hairy hands
Of the flower frightened
The butterflies move wantonly
The caterpillars jumping
In quest to quench the thirst!
As the flower in penance
Heard the humming
Of a honey-bee unseen
She opened her eyes
In search to up and sides
And she was enthused
To see the blue-black
Groom of her from heaven
With wings shivering
As if in a whirl wind
Moving to her lips
To kiss and empty her!
The flower leaped her hand
To embrace the honey-bee
Whose nail ladden legs
Did wand her hands
Yet she never let loose
Her embrace to get-him close
To her breast stored with honey.
The honey-bee sucking nectar
From the lips of the flower
Never see him trapped
In the tangle of figments.
He struggled and jerked
But the flower sucked
The honey-bee's life
In return to her nectar he sucked
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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The Primrose Dance
Skirts like the amber petals of a flower,
A primrose dancing for delight
In some enchantment of a bower
That rose to wizard music in the night;
A rhythmic flower whose petals pirouette
In delicate circles, fain to follow
The vague aerial minuet,
The mazy dancing of the swallow;
A flower's caprice, a bird's command
Of all the airy ways that lie
In light along the wonder-land,
The wonder-haunted loneliness of sky:
So, in the smoke-polluted place,
Where bird or flower might never be,
With glimmering feet, with flower-like face,
She dances at the Tivoli.
poem by Arthur Symons
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One Moment in Time
A single orange daisy.
Blooming from the sidewalk crack.
In the early morning.
Dew dripping off its delicate petals.
The sun is rising.
The flower struggles to survive.
Rising up from the concert it blossoms with new hope.
I’m going to live.
A small girl.
Pink dress and shiny black shoes.
She sees the flower.
The flower.
Wet petals, bursting with new light and hope.
She waddles over.
And picks it.
The flower.
It’s life.
Gone.
In just one moment in time.
-Madelyn
poem by Madelyn Burnham
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
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She Does Not Talk
She does not talk
To me any more
And does not look
At me
Just
Strolls about
All day long
With downcast eyes.
Today
I saw her
In the sunshine
Crouching
As only she can
With gentle hands
Touching
A flower stalk
And talking
To the petals.
poem by Paul Hartal
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