Mountain melt trickles a pure innocence
ever closer to her fluent destiny
with each lingering kiss from the sun
Wooded embankments overflow
the ancient river starts to grow
and faster and faster she
pushes her way downstream
Here is where you'll find me
on the side of the bend
at the base of a mighty oak
arising from a seed
splashes falling all around
quenching my need
my need to be free
pushing me to bloom
Here is where you'll find me
growing if only for you
waiting patiently for your soft touch
hoping your wings might
brush beside me
as you momentarily flutter by
hoping you take
a little peek inside of me
inside the place I carry
the fruits that nourish life
for generations to flourish
and for happiness to thrive
Here is where I'll stand
in the sun and in the night
watching over you
and your glorious flight
swaying with the summer breeze
brightening up the bend
and being true to the ever end
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016
A strange blue rose - alone
midst an array of clustered flowers -
a few of them her friends -
the shy violets, lovely white lilies, and bold marigolds.
In the gracious garden spot the traveler singled her out -
his gaze resting admiringly upon her.
Each day as he passed that spot,
she was the one he sought. . .
And day by day the traveler came around,
speaking through the fence softly in sweet sounds
that wafted her way with the wind.
Persistent wasp, in guise of a honeybee,
he tried so hard to wear that flower down. . .
till unexpectedly, he strode right through the gate,
and blissfully ignorant of a rose's care,
plucked her up, swept her high up into the air,
and uprooted that blue rose from her safe soil.
But he did not a gardener make.
Knowing nothing of roses,
he knew very little of any flower he pursued.
Moreover, one mere blue rose cannot long compete
with the other bright fanciful flowers
which, along that traveler's path, he was sure to meet.
Those soft whispered words
that caressed her blossomed cheek
And the water to her soul (if a rose has a soul,
he did not care to know), stopped its flow.
Scars he left -
new thorns on her stem that grew outward
from his cruel cut,
but she'd go on. . . .
Long time replanted now in solid refuge ground,
the strange blue rose
has gained self-understanding,
that one thing for himself (she imagines)
which the traveler she so briefly knew
has never found.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
When the edge of the sun rises above the horizon
I sway with silent elegance in the meadow of your heart
You'd pick up all scattered petals from dusty pages of the past
And there you find my concealed love
It is then that you recall the untainted colours of the vow
forgotten truths, and everlasting Us
It is there where you blow softly your Spring breezes
in gardens of fragrant nights
So that in a tomorrow,this unpretentious margarita
would dawn its glow once more in those amorous deep-set eyes
It falls untamed,innocent and pure like a child's dream
in the tight-pull of your never leaving arms
Just a note-
I always wished to be a domesticated Rose,but somehow I know
I will always be a daisy
The description of the Daisy flower through Andrea's link
The Daisy -Beauty,Innocence,Love,I will never tell,purity.
Not for the contest,but inspired by the running contest of Andrea Deitrich
'I am a flower'.
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015
I AM A WATER LILY
When blue skies kiss whisper and queer ripples quiver...
I drink on sun rays and bathe from falling rain,
I stand there afloat: graceful and reserve.
From pink petals shimmer, I flush also a moonlit snow,
honeyed aroma I puff and puff chasing wind curves
thrilling some senses, awakening some nerves!
Upon gush and waves of bursting rainbow colors,
I lay atop, my rhizomes rise, they waft....
Around my roots are croaking frogs and slimy eels,
they thrive for I supply their daily meals.
Day by day in my life, I live to be pure,
my heart beckons heaven yet my roots down here...
Even if currents trample me and storms blow me,
upon seas and oceans, I trip like a sailing ship
but upon force, upon wonders I shall abide
giving my everything-- my best white shots!
Note: Rhizomes - a horizontal plant stem with shoots above and roots below
serving as a reproductive structure
~~WATER LILY ---purity of heart ~~
Sponsor Andrea Dietrich
Contest Name Picture Yourself as a Flower!
10:29 am, May 05, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
One moist patch, like dewy grass,
surrounded by a field of weeds,
emerges first and breathes at last,
through openings, the air it needs.
Cut off from, and cut off of;
counting on, and counting in;
from down below, to up above -
A smack on tender, crimson skin.
There is a pulse.
One spring bud, like seedling stems,
surrounded by a garden wall,
is standing out from all of them,
despite the fact, they're just as tall.
And though the bud has not yet grown,
the soil and the water see
more than just the seed they've sewn.
They see the flower it will be.
There is a pulse.
One tall stem, like climbing vines,
surrounded by its petals' plumes,
shares its elegant designs,
and stretches as it blooms.
And when the wind begins to call,
the flower spreads it's pollen 'round.
It falls in love, and loves in fall,
and falling love renews the ground.
There is a pulse.
Copyright © John Taylor | Year Posted 2010
Lovely lily, you take my breath away
I just have to tell you how much I adore you.
The moment we met I could smell your sweet scent so fragrant and alluring.
I looked longingly at your svelte body, so tall and elegant
with long arms outstretched holding such beautiful blooms.
Standing in the daylight I saw the sun shining on your beautiful face;
you turned to bask in its rays and cute freckles appeared on your skin.
I watched you flirting with nature and you blushed bright pink as you
swirled your pretty party dress and danced on the summer breeze.
And in words she blooms Contest Sponsored by Casarah Nance
Stargazer lilies are one of my favourite flowers and grow in pots in my front garden – sadly with the high winds we have experienced recently all the petals dropped in 4 days.
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
Do you wish to taste
the succulent flower
as she grows, anxious, in the garden?
Morning’s blush arouses
her soft pink petals
and they become warm and moist with dew
A sweet musky scent fills the air
It calls to you
and you cannot resist
Her sultry aroma
holds the promise
of unabashed ecstasy
open and eager
She is ready to be exposed
You brush against her petals
and she quivers
You caress her
for she is inviting
Velvet smooth perfection
She is yours to possess
You reach for her
and take her
You hold her close against you
And for a brief moment
she is all you know
She is a prize,
to be put in her place
You display her
so others will know your worth
Sadly, she sits alone
in her vase,
withered and undesired
Copyright © lisa verdon | Year Posted 2007
I’m a little flower
Being seared by the sun
My petals are now wilting
My life is almost done
I’m a little flower
My colors are fading fast
I’m parched to the core
And yet you move on passed
You water other flowers
Little sprinkles you give me
While I struggle to hold on
My beauty for you to see
I’m a little flower
That you once called divine
Now you have lost interest
I’m no longer glorious...fine
I’m a little flower
You’ve neglected for a while
But I’m still struggling on
Longing to see your smile…
I’m a little flower
This is my final plea
Remember my first bloom
Promise to revive me
Oh, water me, my love
My petals now caress
I’ll open as before
unfurled by tenderness
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
In summer my garden comes alive
as graceful butterflies make it home.
Peacocks with vivid colours flit
from blossom to blossom
Busily working gathering nectar
pollinating as they go on to next
flower. All so pretty I love them all
visiting my climbing rambling roses.
Red Admirals, Swallow tails and monarchs
adding swathes of brilliant colour
chased by Skippers and Orange tips
as each one vies for one more bloom.
While Gatekeepers and Clouded Yellows
delicately sip from my hibiscus.
A cloud of Fritillary's descend on stocks
and Painted Ladies mock the sweet peas.
A drone of bumble bees sets the tune
for Tortoiseshells to dance to.
Purple Emperors set the scene
as they visit my asters and begonia's.
Ah! sweet summer flowers, all
are kissed by Comma's and Coppers
bringing my garden to life
with joy as they all busily work
contest Skat's Butterflies
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
The purple angel facing the sun, so fair to look upon
has a tenacious grip on the moors; it roots secured.
With its head held high, it sways at ease in the breeze;
yet for puncturing thorns, surely, it will be scorned.
Never trained for battles, its winter seed pods rattle
defying each foe, flowering even in spring's white snow.
Its sharp spines bring tears, pricks equals to a sharp spear
to Scotia a dauntless brave, for their land was saved!
Like a woman defending her virtue, to any, she is bold to face,
yet, the angel as a lion-heart. Her words full of art,
bloom despite the pain, a greater beauty she attains.
Where ever she may live, this heavenly thistle will thrive.
This humble weed will prosper in the rich faithful soil she seeds
before the sun she and Royal Scotland have plighted their troth
***Inspired by the painting Thistle in a Field, by Fidelia Bridges 1875
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
January 19, 2015
~~This a late post because I have no internet connection for almost 5 days...
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2016
Out in the open meadow
Swaying in the breeze
I am a wildflower
Living a life of ease
The seed from which I grew
Was blown here by the wind
It landed on the earth
And that was my beginning
I am watered by the rain
And fed by the earth
Each of them is dear to me
My life depends on both
I have two faithful friends
Who come to visit me
One is a pretty butterfly
The other is a honeybee
I feed them with my nectar
And then they fly away
I tell them to come back
On another day
I am bathed by the sunshine
Which makes my colours glow
It keeps me nice and warm
And also helps me grow
My beauty is free for all to see
Even a little child
I love the life I am living
I enjoy being free and wild
wildflower - a flower that grows wild and free
I have added three more verses: (verses 4,5,6)
I had removed them to meet the contest requirements.
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2015
Bleed me red like love, but don't make me cry
Drink my shades of rose, and take in every sigh
Raise me to the sun, I need to feel the warmth
I am your flower, take me in, give me worth
Words by: Mystic
Photo by: Demetrios
Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2016
As she spread her crest, sweet fumes filled the air.
From a humble bud, she turned to a beautiful red rose,
Ripe enough to make a garden of its own.
With her scent, insects flew,
Tempted to taste its sweet milky bottom.
That's what happens when a flower blooms!
Copyright © Flora Mae Gudez | Year Posted 2014
My hummingbird found me
A cactus i used to be
Instead she wrapped around me
she kissed my deep buried heart
Rose petals surround me
All around me
All around me
I am a dancing flower now
Dancing On the beats
Of her cute fluttering sound...
Copyright © ANKIT DEDHA | Year Posted 2014
You lay on white cotton sheets with the hospital logo imprinted
on the cloth and on the fabric of your life talcum powder for
your bed sores anorexic washed out gastric spittle dribbling
from ulcerous mouth facing what had to come no more shine
no radiant beauty just a living corps in the moonlit dusky night
Fed up and fed through lines in your flaccid arms scared from
where the needles had left skinned putrid innocent islands had
succumbed to chasing the dragon fallen off addictive wagons
breathing shallowly through white powder perforated nose
the stigma of questing for life in ecstacy a dim echo of delusion
Noose marks round your neck overdosed under-clothed a crazy
lunatic dishevelled mis-resemblance of what should have been
was meant to be a vibrant journey not eclipsed by crying despair
Your parents had called you Luna Flora the moonflower in their
pagan hippie delight had not considered the toxic poisonous stars
Moonflower one of the most romantic plants in the garden sweetly
fragrant trumpet shaped blossoms unfurled in the night pollinated
by moths like white powder spreading beauty and toxic devil’s weed
Luring enticing tempting dangerous hallucinating agitated confusion
when sucked in too eagerly not knowing where and when to stop
Like belladonna which you had meant to portray the night flower
shed its shadow cast indigestible spells over your paths on earth
too short wasted rejected drowning in sorrowful blindness side-lined
from sun and sparkling stars into the wicked night of helpless evil
you withered rushed from shot to shot one too many dirty cannulas oozing
A desiccated child-woman of the night pushing and pulling from
client to client giving your sex for their money extorted by pimps on
street corners dirty sprung mattresses feeding phallic prickly bursts
of sprinkling disgust a skeleton draped in loose lucid skin fondled breasts
you opened your legs closed your shame for anti-heroic heroin
Dressed in white cotton you marvelled stone dead in lunar radiance
from your marble coffin at midnight when the bells chimed good bye
when your friend and you parents had lost their minds and only child
at the final curtain last act of resistance to the ambiguity of Luna Deflorata
vanished to fangs of white powder white pills translucent misery injected
Written at midnight 22 August 2016
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016
A Letter To Rose
I know that you have questions and have missed me as much as I am missing you. I do not like excuses, but there really is a good reason for my infrequent visits. Of course there are others like Tulip and Lillie to whom I give my attention;but you know that I treasure and favor you above all other flowers in my garden.
I know that this summer has been very hard on you, but there’s nothing I can do. As you know, we have been in a drought for the past three years and counting. My once green lawn that must now tolerate brown, is longing for more water; but the authorities require that we water lawns and gardens only twice a week.
I know how you must feel, and I am so sorry to have to treat you this way.
It hurts me that I can’t smell your sweet fragrance nor feast on your loveliness. Your beautiful colors no longer embrace my front yard; nor do they grace my living room.
However, the weather people are predicting a wet winter that could improve things. I hope so, because I will cut back your branches, allowing you to grow new ones. And come late Winter and early Spring, you will burst force in splendor and elegance.
11072015 ( PS Contest, Second Chance, by Broken Wings")
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015
Mother Nature took her paint brush,
and eloquently tipped each petal
With a multitude of glorious colors.
She awoke the morning sun and coaxed
the pedals to greet the morning rays.
She dropped, droplets of morning dew,
watching the moss green carpet
stretch to catch each drop.
She painted nature's floral bouquet,
and they happily, danced in the breeze.
Her landscape, soon became a work of art.
A scenic wonder, that soon brought the bees,
Who busily, flew from flower to flower
tasting each, nectar filled blossom.
They happily flew to the hive and back,
Bringing excitement over the floral find.
The flowers continued to flourish under,
the fine painters hand.
Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2011
Her purplish glow tints an innocence
Like a dainty bloom in the mist of spring;
Frolicking on woods as she gently laughs
To invite jays for a caper, a tune!
Wavy locks adorn a heart-shaped face
Morning-kissed through daylight’s gaiety;
Then plays hide-and seek with breezes
Unaffected by mild trails of rainfall.
Till sunshine flutters into near noon
Each perfumed cheek beaming, newly tanned
Yet merry her romp, her dress winging
In lilac tones...such a rare delight.
Awed, I cuddle my dear Violet
Oh, lovely god –daughter so pleasant,
Ripening through those flowering eyes
Violet child, my gem from above.
And in words, she blooms Contest
Sponsor: Casarah Nance 8/31/2016
~ The symbols of a violet could mean purity,
Innocence ,and child-like wonder.
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016
Go ahead; grab a gander at our grandeur
Our smooth, sweet, smelling, smorgasbord
Of colorful carpet comprised of countless creations
Of nature’s naturally nurtured niceties’
Skip, jump, tumble, roll, wrestle
You are welcome…rest your bodies
In the cool heat of the spring sunlight of our sustenance
Its rays radiate radicals necessary for us flowers
To freely, flourish, fruitfully…
See our gentle stamens extend themselves
Inviting and enjoying the buzzing of bees company
We are alive in our soil, our intricate roots feast on rich minerals
Oh, wondrous nature creates our effects of beauty, comfort, and seducing sedation, just for you to take a rest.
If you enjoy us often, you may have the good fortune of awakening amidst a sun shower, the final ingredients of two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen which nature gives us to ensure our multitudes multiply for your pleasure. Hey, did you catch that double rainbow?
Copyright © jill spagnola | Year Posted 2015
The blissful flower landed on the earthly dirt
And rooted its seeds on the bosom of mankind.
The flower blooms only in fruitful pure heart
Which grazes its petals like one hungry hind.
Virtues are the atoms of God, the holiest one.
The more we attain it, the more we appear near
To Him, His being, Virtues and godliness anon
As our soul drenches with immortal holy tear.
The earthy flower blooms, dies in perched air
With a fragrance that melts, melts, melts away.
But the fragrant flower of Virtue is always fair,
Its fragrance rises towards heavenly stairway.
Copyright © Osman Gani | Year Posted 2011
I live with my friends in their garden,
known as Moonshine I lead the fairies
as we tend to the flowers and plants
dusting them with a magical potion.
At full moon we have a special party
to which come the gnomes and pixies.
Not forgetting the mischievous elves
looking so dainty in costumes green.
We have a wild time sipping elderflower
or maybe raspberry wine with biscuits.
Grumpy hides away while the others
make merry as Snow White dances.
As day breaks and rays of sunshine
beam down its time to now depart.
We curl up together on luscious ferns,
and whisper exchanging fairy gossip.
Laughing as we remember the odd kiss
snatched by those cheeky elves.
Setting down happily in our garden
that blooms in great abundance.
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2016
I became some flowers in a magazine -
someone's made up fantasy...
In turn, there was a loco, a station-master,
and a boy watering the flowers.
I loved the part where I was watered,
for I had not drunk for days,
and I relished the water going down my stalks
and into earth below.
Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015
Wither and die,
Said I, to the flower,
Your purpose in life is what?
To beautify the land?
Inquired I of the flower,
Would that be your reason for existence?
Wither and die,
Commanded I to the flower,
Should your beauty forever live?
Pleaded I to the flower,
What has your destiny shown?
Should your beauty thrive?
Should your beauty thrive forever?
Wondered I of the flower,
Or should the Earth wither and crumble?
Wither and die I shall,
Said the flower to me,
Should I live forever, only you may know.
Copyright © Maygin Creekmore | Year Posted 2011
We're so strong, so many
Beautiful and bright
We bring no harm
But were labelled
A consistent bother
The others are nurtured
given all they need
Something to be proud of
They no nothing but greed
But We are poisoned, torn apart
As if we are nothing and haven't hearts
Someone named us when we were born
Since then we've been nothing but scorned
We stand up tall but inside we are crying
We're not the carnation or the rose,
We are the dandelion
July 3, 2016
Copyright © Tanis Troutman | Year Posted 2016
What can be fairer and just then,
the beauty of your plush pink skin.
In the moonlight, your beauty glimers in pink
as does the moon,
over the tripping waves of the peaceful sea.
In sunlight, the light catches your skin
and flirts with my eyes,
as does the dew in the sunken meadows,
with the first kisses of the dawn
Now how do I describe your endless beauty!
It is innumerable as the petals that share your name
My heart bleeds for your love
as your veins pump the finest milk,
that radiates your beauty.
In all the splendor and glory of Queen Cleopatra,
were she to bath in your milk,
she would be immortally present.
Your fully thick and impermeable lips
plague my dreams
as my eternal spring of youth.
Your hair, the only breeze that soothes my delicate skin.
As seasonal as this love may seem,
it does endure the scorch of heat
and glacier of frost.
Oh! To rest upon your golden chalice.
No, this cannot be lust. I am certain.
This must be love, even if it feels inclined.
There is no other light but the bright
piercings of your smile upon my heart.
Your laughter is the sweet smell of the exotic gardens of Budapest,
the nectar of my own ears.
See how your petals have bloomed,
the light hits your petals like snowflakes.
Copyright © Sizwe Hlabisa | Year Posted 2016
Sin is what covers the devil's skin... lies on his grin that hides from within. Evil that drips from his
chin... grows a flower from the soil deep within a cloud from hell. Growing a flower with an evil
scent, turns the soil in a cloud darker then ever... making our grey skies that we have today.
Copyright © Anderson Torres | Year Posted 2010
She took on cruise plenty souls
Merry they danced with joy
Glimpse of her dissolved all woes
When she smiled and blushed with coy
Spread her scent in verdant valley
Smitten by her poise and piety
Descended moon from sky
Shining bright, beside the pool he asked
Will you be my wife?!
18th October 2016
Copyright © Anulaxmi Nayak | Year Posted 2016
The weed is jealous looking over to next door,
that pleasant flower whose most adored.
It eyes the style and mimics through its bloom
but there was only room for one to groom.
The clippers controlled by human hands
Decided first who was meant to leave the land.
The weed did fear for he only wanted love
But clipped away and jumped afar above.
Copyright © brittany martin | Year Posted 2008
I went to a garden party and the Ladies of the Lawn were there,
A Lady Bug presided over the gathering, wearing Queen Ann's Lace in her hair,
A miniature angel, as I recall, when she lifted her sheer, black wings.
She held up a Lady's Slipper and announced that, "The Lady of the Bird Bath
was missing one of these things."
"A Missing Slipper!" gasped Heather,"Oh, someone ring Flora's Bell!"
But Myrtle and Olive just giggled, "Oh, someone call Witch Hazel!."
The old witch stood with a slouch, lit Royal Candles as Veronica let out an "Ouch!"
Into a golden Buttercup she sprinkled pollen from the King's Spear,
a drop of water from the bird bath and a bit of fuzz from a Lamb's Ear.
"We've got to get this to the pond, that the lady holds up with with her palms."
"I can do it!" called Creeping Jenny, as she spilled right onto the lawn.
Now, the Buttercup, pollen and Lamb's Ear released their magic into the bath,
then the wind picked up, the ladies gasped, soon those feet would be warm at last.
Then down flew Gorgeous Georginia Gray Lourie who landed with a splash,
she gobbled up the Buttercup, then looked at the ladies and laughed.
"Why do you fret over stone feet that neither get hot nor cold?
Better to fret over the likes of me, and that old witch, as foretold."
Then she gobbled up Witch Hazel and the Lady Bug flew away,
all the ladies of the lawn slept uneasy that gray and foreboding day.
Copyright © Catie Lindsey | Year Posted 2016
The black sand,
On the land of death
Is the only thing
That made the flower stand,
This flower is living while dying
it's smiling while crying
it's living surrounded by death
it's feeling happy while feeling depressed
it's seeing darkness while seeing light
it's living day while living night
it's living everyday waiting for tomorrow
it's praying for God to feel no more sorrow
looking up and never looking down
listening to its soul and no other sound
flying in the sky while standing on the ground
watering itself by tears of angels
that fall all around...
Copyright © farah chamma | Year Posted 2006