Husband Flower Poems | Husband Poems About Flower
These Husband Flower poems are examples of Husband poems about Flower. These are the best examples of Husband Flower poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
Copyright © VICTOR BUN
He started out kind, loving and sweet;
My husband brought me flowers every week.
He'd bring me some roses, or do something silly,
And come home to me with one small lily.
Instead of using a vase, he would use a jar,
And bring me home a flower called the Morning Star.
We enjoyed each other and he would do something crazy
And bring me home a flower called a Daisy.
Then I noticed he began to change,
He started doing thngs kind of strange.
He would bring home flour and ask me to make,
A thin layered chocolate seven tiered cake.
Or he would bring home flour,
So that I would bake him a pie.
But no more flowers;
To behold with the natural eye.
Then one day...I knew it by what he said;
That man brought home a ROSE and laid her in my bed.
At that moment I almost became a widow,
He said something about Rose lying on my pillow.
I turned my back to go away to pray,
Dear Heavenly Father please listen to what I say.
I thank You for my husband and the relationship we had,
Now dear Father things are turning pretty bad.
He is still a good man, kind, loving and sweet;
But we both need deliverance fom satan's deceit.
The flowers he brought me were nice to behold;
Then suddenly things began to turn really cold.
The day the flower he brought home could walk,
I knew at that moment Father we must have a talk.
You said in all things give thanks and praise Your name,
For only You could make things the same.
As the Father and I discussed what my husband had done;
This caused me to draw nearer to His darling Son.
My husband's actions brought home the best flower of all,
Day or night, on Him I could call.
Jesus, The Lily of the Valley; the Bright and Morning Star.
I now knew Him personally, no longer from afar.
I went to tell my husband what had been done,
And how he had brought home Jesus, God's Only begotten Son.
I told him thank-you and that he too might get to know,
Jesus the Rose of Sharon and the Power of the Holy Ghost.
He's water when you are thirsty, and bread when you're hungry,
Food on the table and He never leaves you lonely.
He's your mother and your father, a heavy load carrier,
A heart regulator and a burden bearer.
He's peace, kindness, love and gentleness;
And above all the flowers you brought home...Honey, He's the Best!!
Penned in 2001
This is dedicated for those who have been betrayed.
Learn to forgive. Daisy Marie Yant
Copyright © Daisy Marie Yant
TICKET TICKET TICKET
TICKET TICKET TICKET
TICKET TICKET TICKET
Every line not just the bus the cafeteria at least in the lesser smaller rules would
have a line and must produce the TICKET to get the product eye can sense it
does not matter now ewe eye has glazed and interest has wandered back to the
television or the window even oh please ewe pay attention. A stub of counterfit
will not benifit the lame or halt or worried for there gender there they must have
the goods in hand the concrete tender the dough rey mee the stuff that makes
mens greed the money. After carefull consideration of the facts it takes the
monkey on his back to make the money that he needs to carry greed to pinnacle
mountains on his overactive garden of imagination he is ON the MARK he is
Standing Toe to Toe with JOE and active in his quest and merciless at rest he
makes his way down the line with TICKET in his hand no matter if its milk or
meat or love or final resting place. Who is that on that cactus patch does it rally
matter MOE his name was JOE they ALL was JOE he could have went on down
the road but stayed to die in cactus OH what was his name it never matters to a
martyer his spirit fled when they killed his body his name is JOE. He had his
ticket in his hand a purple flower clutched so hard he bled. He hollard out her
name he called her Violet and then he came to knoe his GOD again this time in
person he has his TICKET in his hand but what is left is NOT man just another
NUMBER on the list just another burial to be placed he had his TICKET in his
hand a violet flower he is now a man at rest.
Jesus Freak Homeless
Copyright © charles hice
I do not know?
"Trembling of the Shy Temple Flower"
i shall tremble at your every command
to sever only you
would be my greatest desire
let the ground be humble
to the rumble
of your feet
i am your faithful temple
shy flower cover me
only your tears
will water me~
let me be your
and i will
wash and heal all of your wounds~
do what you will
only softly say
and i will shyly say
the most caring
words to you~
is my will~
for i care only
for the rumble
of the trembling
of your feet~
Copyright © verlecia fields