Best Flower Poems
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Flower
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Flower
Poem
The Flower
“A Flowers Wilt”
Witness into the small existence
That abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.
A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you in-------------
Reeling you, and reeling you,
until you pick the right flawless touch.
Dandelions swaying thin,
And here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of----------
Inhale the fragrance,
Courtyard azure eyes,
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when the loveliness up and left.
A bully against arrogant, thru feminine perfumed veils.
Tulips waiting for better auspicious’ sky.
Asters claim the eclipse's dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
~
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness,
A sweet Lotus echo’
Slight yelps of agony, carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
It injects herbal essence into the wind.
For a split second, we feel the pixie dust.
Channel the essential, as it fades.
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.
Like candles and dew they stream and limber energy.
Opposing others of its humane,
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will,
A short while, gone astray!
The Flower wilts.
The gardener cries.
By;PD
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Flower
Poem
Without Hope's Gleam
The flower that is given little light
tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive -
then fades away like dusk into the night.
The soul who struggles just to stay alive -
much like the flower wilting in the dark -
tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive.
How can a fire be lit if there’s no spark?
Without hope’s gleam, the soul will waste away -
much like the flower wilting in the dark.
This is the plight of one whose world is grey:
Though others say a paradise exists -
without hopes gleam, the soul will waste away.
A man upon this earth who tastes no bliss
is like a soul brought low who droops his head
though others say a paradise exists.
How sad that someone rather would be dead!
The flower that is given little light
is like a soul brought low who droops his head,
then fades away . . . like dusk into the night.
Written 11/15/12
For the "Hope" Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
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Flower
Poem
Pretty flower vs' Deep woods /// for Charma C ///
VINEYARDS of HAPPINESS =================GARDEN of SORROW
There is no greater Happiness,-----------------------Reliving all his sorrow
then being in my lover's arms,------------------------Broken memories to hold upon
Kissed by his hungry lips,-------------------------------Rejecting all hunger, of love
spoiled by his sweetest charms.-----------------------The surface spoiled look in his face
There is no greater Happiness,------------------------Holding the depth of solitary sorrow
feeling my love's warm embrace,-------------Feelings of cold,no emotions on Gods grace
Meeting in our secret GARDEN,-----------------------Prolonging the visit to our VINEYARD
Opening dreams' golden gates.------------------------the door you opened to Hells gate
There is no greater Happiness,-------------------------Reviving every motion of sorrow
and there 'll never be ,for me,----------------------------trapped forever inside of me
till that far promised day,------------------------------------Broken promises day by day
My Honey love s' here with me.------------------------a wound so fresh, everyday your with me
By ;Charma By : P.D.
HAPPINESS=============================SADNESS
Happiness to me,is as easy as can be,----------------Sadness triumphs over anything in me
a doughnut,a cup of English Tetley tea.--------A bucket of ice cream,a bottle of Jack Daniel
Lying on my beige leather sofa,-------------------------Slouching up against the wall
Covered by a Woolen red tartan rug,------------- tears fallen like a red river on the carpet
Hugging and Kissing,Fondling and snogging,------Crying and Weeping,Wiping the Sobbing
Just watching T.V.------------------------------------------Just imaging you
By :Charma By : P.D.
THE ROSE===============================WITHER
Love is a Pink Rose,---------------------------------------------Hate like a Black Steam
with a crown of thick Grey thorns,--------------------------Like a cloud following you
delicate and strong.-----------------------------------------------Tilting till its gone
By ;Charma By : P.D.
inspired By : Charmaine Chircop compose By : Poet Destroyer
For : Charma , a good friend who said Be nice to my Words. : )
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Flower
Poem
Goodbye, My Child
Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs
Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found
Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling
Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found
To where the ridges merry make
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers
Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found
Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong
Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found
For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found
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Flower
Poem
Ode to beauty
strophe
I stand on the snow covered mountain
Colorful vase of flowers
Slopes with flower beds laden
I saw the snow lotus flowers
I asked, “Why are you all alone here?
Beauty is meant to be adored.
Should give yourself to somebody
Before your petals fall to dust soon, dear.
What if I crushed your petals, I asked
As at these heights, you are quite lonely”..
antistrophe
One of the flowers quickly responded
“I enjoy the shelter of blue skies.
I would be too glad
If you choose to crush my petals
My fragrance will spread everywhere.
Fulfilling the purpose and duty
If destroyed, not admired.
By plucking my petals, remember
You won’t gather my beauty,
Beauty is to see, not to be plucked'.
epode
“O’ lotus, you teach wisdom to man
Praise her beauty, don’t destroy her.
It is the gladdest thing under the sun
Touch a hundred flowers not pick ever”
O’ man, pluck not wayside flower even
It is the traveler’s dowers.
Silently a flower blooms alone
And in silence it falls down
If I am worth many pleasures,
I think I am too few then”.
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Second place winner in
Contest: Ode sponsored by Jared Pickett
This is the English Ode, also called the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode.
The Romantic Ode often followed the Irregular Ode's structure
and the Homostrophic Ode's meditative quality.
Rhyme Scheme : ABABCDECDE (Ten lines)
I am inspired by John Keats’ Ode to Nightingale
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Flower
Poem
Flowers on a Path
I follow the path of flowers that’s near
Each one a little different than the next
I desire to be close, with petals dear
Their blossoms are fancy and quite complex
Each one a little different than the next
I can smell their fragrance in the calm air
Their blossoms are fancy and quite complex
There’s not a bit of dismay nor despair
I can smell their fragrance in the calm air
There is peace and tranquility about
There’s not a bit of dismay nor despair
Living things they are, I sure will not pout
There is peace and tranquility about
I kneel down to pluck one up off the ground
Living things they are, I sure will not pout
The flowers, though loud, are the best around
I kneel down to pluck one up off the ground
The flower is red, that’s full of beauty
The flowers, though loud, are the best around
I’ve been blessed to see them actually
The flower is red, that’s full of beauty
I desire to be close, with petals dear
I’ve been blessed to see them actually
I follow the path of flowers that’s near
Russell Sivey
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Flower
Poem
The Traveler and The Rose
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
soon ceased.
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.
For Deb's "Anything Goes" Contest
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Flower
Poem
June Bells Flowering under the Trees
Scarce had it rain'd -- blue hued
drops showering down;
in the witching hour I rode,
where the earth is overrun by weeds,
yellow fringed with black-eyed-susans;
trees overhung with wild cherries.
Pacing past the sequester'd glen,
following the trail where tall beeches grow:
long sleeved and long limb'd;
and leaves falling in curling frills.
Then I heard a merry song; sweetest tune
enough to make a maiden swoon;
soon turning round a winding bend,
a field of dripping june bells;
I sighted them, a thousand and more
in blue slippers scatter'd wide.
Seated myself on a moss cover'd stone,
as one aptly does after a long ride.
Somewhere beats an earthly heart,
someone breathes a heaving sigh;
Eyes turn to the darken'd clouds hanging by,
and to the lowering skies;
then far to the place where airy spirits roam,
and to the sepulchred ground
where unruffled I lie in my grave,
under the tufts of june bells.
..
For the contest: "Appreciation (In Honour of PD)"
Sponsored by Abdulhafeez Oyewole
Written on 4/23/2013
..
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Flower
Poem
THE FLOWER
Bustling city, busy streets,
Empty days filled by hollow release.
My downtrodden spirit lingers,
Watching others passing ideally by.
People trampled into restaurants,
And shops.
Oblivious to the world around me,
Alone I happened to walk.
It just happened right after a spring rain,
In cracked pavement below my feet.
Something amazing caught attentions gaze,
Miracles smallest wonder stood before me.
Kneeling amazed life flourished,
Amongst callous,
Stretching towards the sky petals,
Reached out.
An insignificant flower grew wild,
Pausing it touched an inner emotion.
A heart beating realization if ignored,
We are not very different.
Days later upon returning it had vanished
Without a trace.
But solitudes companion has it's reward,
While it lived it brought pleasure,
To thus myself and the lonely eye.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
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Flower
Poem
More Than a Flower
'Tis only a flower
Soft Petals of Gold
There's no special power
In this flower I hold
It came from the ground
There was no special seed
On this flower I found
That grew up from a weed
There are ivy green leaves
On it's long narrow stem
The pointy thorns weave
Round it like mountains
A family of ants
Made their home in the ground
Where the rain comes to dance
Round the flower I found
To you it's a flower
And nothing much else
To the ants it's a tower
Of beauty and wealth
So 'tis may be a seed
Which grew a long stem
Where the most beautiful weed
A flower, has hemmed
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