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Perfection is a costly flower and is cultured only by an uncompromising, strict husbandry.

quote by Burton Rascoe
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Strict It Gets

To challenge oneself,
Isn't fun that's done.
Because,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

To challenge oneself,
Isn't fun that's done.
Because,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

Picking seeking detail...
To prevail,
And...
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.
Detailed...
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

To challenge oneself,
Isn't fun that's done.
Because,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

Detailed!
The critic visits,
And strict it gets.

Detailed!
The critic visits,
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

Detailed!
The critic visits,
And strict it gets.

Picking seeking detail...
To prevail,
And...
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.
Detailed,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets...
Detailed!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Costly

Costly life costly time
Truth is costly life is costly.

No one can say
The exact cost of life
No one can investigate
What is life
No one can speak
Bare truth of life
No one can
No one can.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Choice

PLAGUE take the dull and dusty town,
Its paved and sordid mazes,
Now Spring has trimmed her pretty gown
With buttercups and daisies!

With half my heart I long to lie
Among the flowered grasses,
And hear the loving leaves that sigh
As their sweet Mistress passes.

Through picture-shows I make my way
While flower-crowned maids go maying,
And all the cultured things I say
That cultured folk are saying.

For I renounce Spring's darling face,
With may-bloom fresh upon it:
My Mistress lives in Grosvenor-place
And wears a Bond-street bonnet!

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whence it follows that God is absolutely perfect, since perfection is nothing but magnitude of positive reality, in the strict sense, setting aside the limits or bounds in things which are limited.

quote by Gottfried Leibniz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strict Time

Theres a hand on a wire that leads to my mouth
I can hear you knocking but Im not coming out
Dont want to be a puppet or a ventriloquist
cause theres no ventilation on a critical list
Fingers creeping up my spine are not mine to resist
Strict time
Chorus:
Toughen up, toughen up
Keep your lip buttoned up
Strict time
Oh the muscles flex and the fingers curl
And a cold sweat breaks out on the sweater girl
Strict time
Oh hes all hands, dont touch that dial
The courting cold wars weekend witch trial
Strict time
All the boys are straight laced and the girls are frigid
The talk is two-faced and the rules are rigid cause its strict time
Strict time
Chorus
You talk in hushed tones, I talk in lush tones
Try to look italian through the musical valium
Strict time
Thinking of grand larceny
Smoking the everlasting cigarette of chastity
Cute assistants staying alive
More like a hand job than the hand jive
Strict time
Chorus

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And, perhaps most importantly, regional conflicts will again and again confront us with a cruel choice between costly engagement and costly indifference.

quote by Lord Robertson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am what you would call a stern taskmaster. I expect perfection. And then a little more perfection when perfection is offered.

quote by Estee Lauder
Submitted by Simona Enache
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The child, the pity.

A strict mother is a meek wife.
A strict father is a henpecked.
The child is the casualty.
03.03.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh My, You Want To Chat With Me?

I'm sorry but my momma is strict so i my poppa
they may be dead, but they're still strict on that very important point:

'sonny, do not chat with strangers! ' they always remind me inside my dreams.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come Back As A Flower

The starngest thought came to me on this morning
As I awake to greet the coming dawn
The sun was hardly peaking through the garden
It felt that with everything I was one
Then I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
The dew had finished making love to many
A rainbow smelling sweet was in the air
I envied all the silence I saw growing
So unmoved by things outside themselves
Then how I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
Oh as a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
(background)
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
Sweetness of love

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfection

Perfection is a life-time work,
We try attaining through sheer toil,
And hardly see the peak at all,
But keep sliding down, even fall!

Perfection is akin mirage,
That dupes our senses and our mind,
And drives us crazy, crestfallen,
Like horizon that stays untrue!

Perfection is subjective then,
And differs from issues, moments,
Making man give up halfway through,
And leaving him imperfect still!

Perfection is a ghost-like goal,
That hardly can be half-attained,
Despite our best perseverance,
Defeating us well in the end!

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Lady

She is
A white pigeon
With brown hair
She loves reading
She loves culture
And cultured people
That's why
All cultured people
Of the world
Love her

More
In Egypt
We love her
More
and more
When she talks
Specially
When she talks
To children
Mother
Of Egyptian children
God bless her....

poem by Eman Elbadawi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Close To Love

Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.

So close to love.

I prayed with faith to get it.
Never knowing love would be 'that' close.
Never knowing I would love it most.

Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.

Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.

So close to love.
Never knowing love would be 'that' close.
Never knowing I would love it most.

And I'm,
So close to love.
Never knowing love would be 'that' close.
Never knowing I would love it most.

Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.

So close to love.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Picked A Flower

I picked a flower from a bush
And I loved it so
Put it in a vase next to my bed
But how was I to know

That the flower cried for its bush
That the bush cried for its flower
But how was I to know
That the flower would die in an hour

The flower withered away
And I put it inside my book
Because I loved the flower so
But how was I to know

That the flower gasped for breath
That it was facing death
But how was I to know
That the flower so badly wanted to go

And I kept the flower close to me
So that every day I could see
But how was I know
That the flower that I had loved so
Had always hated me
That there was pain I couln't see
And how was I to know?

poem by Shobhita Singh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perfection

Your cold and poor-spirited love
Was like running water upon my hands...
I did for your love, all that I could....
As an imperfect man that I am...
I offered you just possible things...
Warmth when you were cold,
And consolation when you felt hopeless...
You search for perfection
Which you will never find...
Perfect is the rain that falls
In the spring time...
Perfect are the flowers that grow
in a real garden of love....
Perfect is the smile in a child
Who plays with toys...
Perfection is a man
Who had it all
And now is getting tired and old...
Perfection are the memories
In your heart and mind...
Perfection is something
You shall never find
On me or any other man
Since perfection is just
In your dreams and imagination...
Now perfection becomes
Just like a story untold....
How sad it is
That my love you can no longer have
Neither my hands again hold...
o! Woman, wish you good luck
In your new try...

COPY WRITE©2009

poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The ROSE Healing - God's Design

When spring comes to us,
Scent of flowers in the air,
A tiny little rosebud,
A flower of God's design.
Perfect in His possession,
Always in His hand,
God unfolds the petals,
The secret's unknown to me,
The tiny little rosebud,
A flower of God's design,
Unfolds with perfection,
The rose in His hand.
As my life lies before me,
With it's joy and distress,
He is always near me,
Unfolding all life's petals,
The flower of His design,
Forever in His hand.

poem by Eva L. Shaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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SHORT; Humor: 2 Poems about: A 'Cultured' Sort of Cow

#1
What sort of cow gives cultured WHOLE milk?
I think Princess and cows of her ilk.
She has nary a crawling tick,
she does NOT her calves lick, (babies that is) ,
and, at our state fair she wins ribbons of silk.

#2
What sort of cow gives cultured fat free milk?
I think Princess and other cows of her ilk.
She buys, for her stall, pieces of art,
listens each evening to her Mozart,
and for the annual Dairy Ball……she dresses in SILK!
(Feb.2006)

poem by Bri Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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April Flower

Bloom for me,
My April flower.
Show your beauty,
I'll take a gander.

The wind scatters your scent
Giving me the feeling of heaven.
You're the perfection i've dreamt,
The one that i've chosen.

Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
And let me see,
Your petals that matches no other.

I know you're not mine
And you did not grew for me
I can only see you again this time
Unable to resist fate's cruelty.

Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
Though we're not destined to be,
Stay in my heart and take shelter.

In my heart, you will not wilt,
You will eternally bloom..
Even if i am burdened by this guilt,
and love is my certained doom.

Bloom for me for the last time,
At least i can call this moment mine
Ignore my reasons that doesn't rhyme,
Show me your beauty that i can't define.

Bloom..for all eternity..April Flower.

poem by John Paul Ang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marie-Rose de Beauharnais 1795

To what shall I liken thee?
An angel in realms above,
a mermaid in Oceans beneath,
a costly stone in the fiercest
contention sought for,
or even a costly diamond in the
earth's elusive epicentre buried?
Your beauty is a turning point
reference in your amazing book
of chronicles.

poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (13 May 2021)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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