Let the petals get wings of butterfly
tell the withering rose to shed its sorrow
see how beautifully under the spring sky
petals will spread their wings tomorrow.
Tell the withering rose to shed its sorrow
like butterflies on their first flights
petals will spread their wings tomorrow
catching spring morning's first sunlight.
Like butterflies on their first flights
colourful flowers will be in the air
catching spring morning's first sunlight
spreading fragrances every where.
Colourful flowers will be in the air
see how beautifully under the spring sky
spreading fragrances every where,
let the petals get wings of butterfly.
© kash poet (kashinath karmakar)
Placement:1st; February 2013
Contest:Petals in The Wind
Hark! Don’t forsake me.
Search for me.
Look down low, in the underbrush.
I will be good for you.
Though I’ve been given just a little of our endless world,
I have the glowing fire of raging cordilleras,
The blazing sunsets of Equatorial skies,
The lustrous skin of succulent citrus.
I am orange truth.
A flower breaks out afresh from its swollen,
green bud and then stretches outward into
the sun-drenched sky.
A thing of nature that's timeless
and perennial, it faithfully blooms and
adorns its surroundings like its predecessors.
Never alone, it is joined by its floral neighbors
of its own kind in fragrant numbers, suffusing
the atmosphere all around with a heavy, yet
sweet stench of lavender and honeysuckle.
The thick odor seduces and encourages the
flower-borne bees, hornets, and yellow-
jackets nearby into a steady rhythm and pulse
of continuous labor over the pollen-rich
blossoms and perfumed, colorfully-tinted
petals. From an adjacent pond the over-
abundant and unsubtle beauty of the
lily-of-the-valleys add their distinctiveness
to the already rich and lush floral landscape,
now teeming with the life and vigor of
spring in full bloom.
A flower so blooms through the new fallen snow
While wicked old winter’s wind wistfully blows
Allowing a glimpse, of spring through the white
Though old mister winter kisses green grass goodnight
A sign of the future, a welcoming spring
The flower gave hope, despite white suffering
It told of its virtue, its strength and its pride
And said, though it’s winter, it shan’t ever hide
For there in the distance you can see spring draw near
Winter will end soon, just like year after year
I do not know?
Autumn came this summer
on a cool winter's day
Then spring walked in behind her
Then spring soon danced away:
A flower grew beside her
from a freshly fallen pile of snow
And the petals fall onto the ground
shortly after the winds blows:
As quickly as the seasons change
so the same, time does pass
and the memory of frozen ground
is soon your bed of grass:
The time which a flower bares it's bloom
or clouds share their summer rain
Quickly passes with the shifting winds
As it guides away your pain:
My lover spoke just as a friend
As a stranger, then took my hand
As one beginning drew to another end
the setting sun made me understand:
The Earth is not that far around
The sun rises in the day
And as quickly as the lightning strikes
The storm can roll away.
A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.
Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.
Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.
Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.
What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.
My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.
Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.
Within forest spreading
Such picturesque viewing delights
raining of cherry blossoms
fresh blanket of pink
She is like a sweet, smelling rose
blooming in the month of May.
Blooming with large, red peddles
sprawling and conquoring with beauty.
She is like a Spring Rose.
Her heart, like the rose is beautiful.
She stands there, blooming mad.
Her hair flowing, like the rose's peddles growing.
Standing tall and posterious, like the green, stern stem of the rose.
She is glorious and beautiful, just like the rose,
the sweet smiling rose, in the month of May.
Glorious and brave.
as the rain washes her peddles away,
and the gardener coming with his rusty clippers
to cut her away. I hold back and slowly burst to tears.
For I do not want to see my love go away.
But, like the rose she will grow and bloom once again.
And she will come back bigger, brighter and taller.
She is like the rose.
She is beautiful, like the May weather roses.
She is the red, ruby hearted rose,
that sparkles with the afternoon raindrops,
slowly dripping of the peddles.
She is like the rose, for every time I touch the rose,
I get stabbed by her pointy torns.
She is just like the May Rose.
Perfect for admiring, but not for touching.
She is like a rose.
Refreshing time is spring time
To see new growth appear
Amazing colours take my breath
Sweet spring time is finally here.
To see the mass of snowdrops
A carpet white like snow
The daffodils and crocuses
The colours seem to glow.
The beauty of this season
Is more than words can say
Just sitting in my garden
On a gorgeous spring time day.