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Best Garden Poems

Below are the all-time best Garden poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of garden poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Garden Poem | |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.




November 25th, 2013

Details | Garden Poem | |

The Garden of Adonis Lyrics

If I kissed you in the morning
would you stay,
or like the mist here in the garden
would you slowly fade away,
and if the sunlight warmed your lonely brow
and made you smile, 
would you be here by my side
and walk with me a while.

There's a blushing glow of roses,
A rouge upon your cheeks,
A hint of mellow sadness in your eyes
And a heart that wants to trust 
In your smile.

I wish I knew
the secret to your love
I wish I knew
I wish I knew

Will you wander here with me
and let's just share the day.
Who knows, perhaps we'll find our way.

If I kissed you in the morning
would you stay,
or like the mist here in the garden
would you slowly fade away.



Details | Garden Poem | |

The moon pours white wine

At a table in a garden, on a soft, sweet, summer's night
Two friends are sitting talking by the moon's reflected light.
On the table in the garden there are glasses but no drink
And the friends are sitting talking, but they often stop to think.
The topics that they cover seem to range so far and wide
And the glasses sit there empty, since they left the drink inside.
The night is getting cooler but the friends stay close and warm,
The moon just looks down calmly, she has magic to perform.
As he leans across to kiss her, and she kisses him as well,
The friendship starts to blossom into something more to tell.
The tension in the garden needs assistance to decline
So the silver crescent of the moon leans down to pour white wine.

Details | Garden Poem | |

Wild Love

The blackberry's love for the garden rose
Brought down the gardener's wrath.
The blackberry sensed the danger
As he wended the garden path.

" A love so true as mine", he sighed,
"Must dare to brave the hoe.
Just a few more feet to reach her,
My true love she must know."

He crept along so quietly,
Sometimes quite out of sight
Until he nudged his darling's feet.
Did he dare to trust the light?

He heard the gardener's heavy boot
And hid in craven shame.
He knew he'd soon be weeded out,
A seedling with no name.

"Have I no worth since I don't rate
Some Latin nomenclature?
Without a well known parentage
Am I a freak of nature?

His darling's line was long and pure,
No skeletons in her past.
He had to make his feelings known.
Those boots were treading fast.

Gently then he wrapped his vine
Around his loved one's spine.
In great amazement he opined,
"Her thorns are sharp as mine".

The sweet rose felt his tender touch
And realized his fear
And wondered at his bravery
In coming to her here.

She heard the swishing of the hoe,
She heard those nearing feet.
Quietly letting down her leaves 
In a manner so discreet

She covered her wild lover.
The gardener unaware,
Stopped but to view her beauty.
He saw naught hiding there.

She whispered, "You are safe now".
The blackberry's heart was light,
Thankful that his dear sweet rose
Had not exposed his plight.

"A rose is still a rose." she said,
"By any other name
And in our distant ancestry,
We share some of the same".

"I'd rather know your wild love,
Than a love that's dull and tame,"
Cuddling close, returned his kiss
Without a bit of shame.

Next season there were seedlings
Of a very different kind.
The gardener delighted, cried
"A horticultural find."

The moral of this story?
Things aren't always what they seem.
The love you look down on today,
Could be tomorrow's dream.




Details | Garden Poem | |

Coral Garden

Coral Garden
(Lento - Rhyme)
			
Effortlessly blue damselfish parade across the scene, 				
Carelessly a turquoise parrotfish nibbles on flowers,			
Fearlessly an olive headed snake sneaks on prey unseen,			
Endlessly a butterfly fish pecks on polyps for hours.

Shining through, the sun kisses the giant clam's wave shaped lips	
Pining, at full moon the coral releases eggs and sperm.			
Lining behind mauve anemones the orange clown nips,			
Dining on a green sponge, sucked by a fluoro-pink flatworm.	
			
Sigh at the sight of the lionfish but beware its thorns,			
Spy creatures camouflage like the ground and even harden,		
Eye the school of striped angelfish weave around the staghorns,		
I am still searching for the famed octopuses’ garden.			

Discover these water gardens wherein secrets freely			
Hover, throughout a paradise untouched by human hands.			
Lover or not, marvels by these wonders which really			
Uncover, the awesome Creator of oceans and lands.				

Written by: Ronald Zammit
Dated: 16.02.2014		
Contest: My Secret Garden  -  rated 2nd
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud	

Note:  This poem is describing the mysteries of the sea and in so doing contemplates the power of God.

Details | Garden Poem | |

The Butterfly Flutters By

The Butterfly Flutters By
On a steamy, sun-drenched, summer Sunday, Tree leaves delightfully dancing to the tune of A warm, welcoming, wandering breeze blowing, Metamorphosis now complete, no memory of being yesterday’s creeping caterpillar, The butterfly flutters by.
Blatantly, brazenly, boastfully, Showing off beautiful, brilliant, blue-black and brown wings, Gracefully gliding through a breathtaking, glorious garden, The butterfly shyly pitches from blushing, boldly-colored, buds to fragrant flowers, Cunningly outmaneuvering a competing, hovering hummingbird.
Slyly snatching a satisfying taste of tantalizing, syrupy, sweet nectar From attention-craving, Golden Flame Honeysuckle vines, The butterfly flutters by Cheerfully and completely satiated - Perhaps, already dreaming about tomorrow’s anticipated sugary feast!
Entered in a contest "The Butterfly Flutters By" sponsored by Kelly Deschler (6-3-2014)

Details | Garden Poem | |

My Poetry Garden

My poetry garden of late 
has lain untended and forlorn.
I succumbed to shock and dismay
upon entering recently, for I observed that
great disagreement had erupted
and now vehemently raged among 
adjoining unmade beds of subjects and verbs.

Modifiers that had been 
carefully kept in check upon their trellises 
now dangled everywhere.

Sentences had spilled out of their beds
in fragments or running on and on while
cases of subjectives and objectives
shamelessly intermingled and
were now easily mistaken
one for another.

Grammar, whose care I had entrusted 
to first, second and third persons,
lay in shameless disarray, 
as if no one could tell the difference.

Gerunds casually consorted with infinitives,
many of which had split. I recalled with a sigh
how many years it had taken me
to tightly bind them.
[to bind them tightly is what I meant.]

Commas were everywhere,
rendering those in appropriate position
practically unrecognizable, 
which I suppose was better
than what had happened
to the capitals, 
now completely ignored.

There was no reason for the rhyme,
and forms had somehow been confused
or misplaced altogether.

My lines, unpruned, were of disparate length and hideously incompl

An unfortunate mis-spell
had been cast 
and provoked an infestation.
Many of my friends I noted
had simply departed without comment.

The contest entry was blocked,
so I bowed my head in shame
and shuffled silently
through the exit marked N/A.

Details | Garden Poem | |

Garden Party

All dressed in green, the rose bush beams
like a child’s blushing cheeks and pursed lips;
these debutants jilted by the bees
forever waiting to be kissed.
A carpet of phlox giggles like young ladies
and drips over the wall like a Dali clock,
tickled by fingers of lilies and daisies
still waiting to dance,  demurely frocked.
Impatiens wink at the pansy’s goodbyes,
while hostas and petunias wave.
In the light of a late springtime sky
all in the garden would rave.
   No need for people, they’ve nothing to prove
   because flowers can party too!

~Through a wisteria laden arbor~

Ah, the robins are here rummaging in the grass
and they just left the blueberries over the hedge,
a glutinous embarrassment for sure but as
deer prance so properly, I'd rather robins instead;
at least they don't consume the guests
or shall I say, permanent party participants!
Like a "who done it" dinner it's a safe bet
they'll win if the catnip and snapdragons can't.
What is the purpose of being pretty;
ogled and cut by people and eaten by deer -
it's the talk of the party and nasty --
Gossip is (don't tell) that our favorite guests aren't here,
   the honeys and bumbles do tickle and tease
   and though perhaps used, we're left pleased!



Details | Garden Poem | |

Yesterdays Joys

At the end of my tunnel I use to see the light. It was built not with rock but with thick vines green and bright. I could see my path it was there I always walked, sometimes I would sit and think, listen as plants talked. Sweet peas, marigolds and pansies were at my side, I lived my life with friends in who I would confide. The air was scented in sachets rare, coloured in muted tones stripped down bare. Growing above me were angel lamps, also gorgeous dahlias, on the ramps. I remember in the large blue pond, a rare pair of two toned swans, while below the weeping willow, an almost sleeping chipmunk yawns. Convergent ladybugs clustering for warmth on the ground, drifting leaves acted like an ocean wave just to confound. Back then switched on lights would decorate the night sky with stars but now alarms sound as they shut me down behind these bars.
22~10~2014 Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst Contest Name:Pick a Title Yesterdays Joys

Details | Garden Poem | |

Corey Fazel

Koorosh the Great, Friend

All of my heart
One tear
Or one Monsoon
No amount, no grandeur
Can express the sorrow
Oh yes, I am sad, I am saddened
I am in sorrow
I am swimming in the darkness
I am missing something
That can not be said in words

Koorosh the great was a prophecy
For only now have we seen
The truth of greatness
Not by Victory, but by kindness
We are blessed to have seen
How simple life can be
Love your life
Your family
Your friends
Bring everyone laughter
Create, envision and dream
Everyone who knows you feels special
Your father taught you well
Kindness that transcended generations
In the end
A humble man
No god could make him bitter
He was as he always was and more
A kind man

Only when you remove a tree from the garden
Do you realize
The tree was the garden
The flowers bloomed for the tree
The people sought shade and comfort

Quietly, I weep
For him
For his family
For life

If all great leaders followed his path
What a beautiful world we would have
He inspired 
He smiled
Corey, you are missed


Notes: Dedicated to my friend Corey Fazel who just recently passed away before his time. Corey, you will be missed by many many people. It is you with your friendly pertinence that got me to swim, and that alone has changed my life, I will remember the many evenings and dinners we talked about all things under the sun.

MSA is Multiple System Atrophy, a terrible and debilitating disease that attacks the nervous system. It has many of the symptoms of Parkinson, however from onset one has very few years of life left.

Details | Garden Poem | |

Only you and me

The garden curled around us as we sat beneath the stars,
In the silver shine of Venus and the rust red glow of Mars.
The brandy was between us and we toasted life and love,
While the moon conducted music from the dark green leaves above.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.
 
Vintage brandy in the bottle seemed to ask us both to drink
And the flowers that were watching clearly knew what they should think.
Then your glass was finally empty and you laid it to one side
While you closed your eyes and kissed me and the barn owl tried to hide.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.
 
There was silence in my city as your lips were joined to mine
And I tasted all of heaven and a little brandy wine.
As our bodies settled closer and we melted into one
With embarrassed little giggles that were sure to signal fun.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.

So we gathered up the glasses and we put the stars to bed
Then we walked along the garden path, my shoulder 'neath your head.
We pulled each other closer and we whispered with our hands
That tonight is all that matters and the whole world understands.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.

Details | Garden Poem | |

Nana's Garden

You won't find a yard like this anymore. You'd think it would seem smaller now that I'm an adult, but it doesn't. It's still enormous, stretching far beyond the house like a grassy sea. The hills roll like the tide, dotted with patches of melting snow that remind me of cresting waves. All around me, the gardens wake from a wintry slumber.


tiny buds cling to naked branches-- a robin sings
Time stands still here in Nana's garden; the ghosts of childhood haunt every inch of the yard. There's my brother, climbing the ancient apple tree, throwing crab apples at my sister as she plucks daisies. Even as she dodges apples, she plucks away - asking no one in particular if she's loved or not, leaving a trail of petals in her wake. And there I am in my grass-stained skirt, twirling and twirling, falling dizzily to the ground, oblivious to my sister's shrieks of protest and my brother's triumphant laugh. I shake my head and the vision clears. Now the garden is empty - still overflowing with trees and shrubs and flowers, but lacking in laughter, mischief, and innocence. Innocence has been replaced by wistfulness.
two robins glide across the sky-- a door creaks
"Tea's ready, dear." I glance over my shoulder at Nana. She stands on the back porch wearing her favourite apron and my favourite smile. Like her garden, she hasn't changed. A few more silver strands in her hair, a few more lines around her eyes - but she is still the same woman who took care of us, tending to us just as she tended to her gardens. She smiles at me now, as if she knows that garden has cast a spell over me. With another glance at the apple tree, I follow Nana inside the house - and I swear I can hear echoes of laughter behind me.

Details | Garden Poem | |

Lady of Tears

A statue of grey cold stone
Standing resolute in a garden of young lovers
Strolling arm in arm as young lovers do
She is the Lady of Tears from a place called
Yesterday

As lovers stroll among the springtime lilies
Gazing up to a weathered bust
They think only of future loves
New songs and new hopes
No time for Yesterday

In the silence of the night
It is said the Lady of Tears can be heard
Singing sadly of her longings
Her lover is buried underneath, as she whispers
Yesterday 

Who of you would ever guess?
A lady built of weathered stone
Had a heart so warm and sweet
Her life a fairy tale fable
An angel of yesterday

If I could caress her face
In the night, her tears I would sweep
Away from the miseries long since dead
I had a dream, we embraced forever
I whom lies beneath, in yesterday’s tomb

A lonely white dove makes her nest
In the arms of this statue
The doves knows behind the bleakness of grey
Is the Lady of Tears
Guarding her lover buried underneath

Tall and proud, a Nordic beauty cast in stone
All around, they do not see
As birds and flowers sing of our song
We are together at last
Yesterday no more

Details | Garden Poem | |

Black Flowers Bloom

Skies so grey
Heart so blue
Flowers of the past come to bloom
Love has kissed the stems
Pain has poisoned the blooms
The flowers are black as death itself
They speak to no one
Living in a veiled garden of darkness
Shrouded in mourning
Lingering for autumns death to devour them
Flowers in waiting
Clouds dance in anticipation
The coliseum of life has another festival
Of the slaughtered flowers
Crushed back to dust
The stars above
Stare down in silence
Knowing their fate is sealed
In a billion years or so
Death shall devour them too

Details | Garden Poem | |

OLD GARDEN SWING - Poets Lyric Man and Seren

OLD GARDEN SWING 


Oh, recollection is 
such a powerful thing 
I think of us together 
on this old garden swing 

Our love was birthed 
when we first danced 
You were my music 
we were so entranced 

That first touch 
and we couldn't let go 
It wasn't intentional 
but we put on a show 

Music slowed down 
and you held me tight 
When you leaned in to kiss me 
I didn't fight 

Saw it in your blue eyes 
mine were thinking it too 
A private dance would be nice 
Yeah, just me and you 

The summer was hot 
the temperature high 
Inhibitions gave way 
we danced in the sky 

Then autumn came 
and things got cold 
We tried so hard 
but our love couldn't hold 

You packed your bags 
but left me memories 
The good and the bad 
those sweet miseries 

Now Spring has arrived 
got this letter from you 
I'm on my old garden swing 
..wondering what I'll do 

Date: 8-20-14 
Poets: Seren & Lyric Man

Details | Garden Poem | |

Rose of Annamarie

Collecting the colors of nature,
the yellow, the blue and the green.
From the top of the stair,
I see a color so rare,
I go into the garden to see.
A snap-shot in my mind,
of the color I’d find,
just as my mind’s eye took it…
I continue my quest,
searching everywhere lest,
the dim light of dawn overlooks it.
I spy a fresh rose,
with petals of red,
I pick it not-
but admire instead.
It’s splendor and color,
at times wild and free,
are all reminiscent
of Annamarie…
Copyright © 2013

Details | Garden Poem | |

Before the Rain is Gone

She kept it all inside her
and never spoke a word,
though her thoughts flew and darted
like a trapped and frantic bird.

Inside her was a garden
that was hung with Spanish moss,
like the massive oaks were weeping
to remind her of her loss..

The spider wove at breakneck speed,
a perfect work of art,
watching it, she had her doubts
that humans were so smart.

The southern air was sultry
and the sea salt cloyed the skin,
 the yard dogs dug depressions
and the alley cats grew thin.

The black top roads got sticky
when the southern sun beat down
and the heat forever rises
forming monstrous thunderclouds.

When the blue sky rolls and blackens
soon the thunder shakes the ground
and the southern landscape flattens
as the blinding rain pours down.

Nostrils flared, she filled her lungs
with the dank and heady scent
of peat-rich soil, decay and loam,
of lavender and mint.

And in her secret garden,
reptiles raised their faces high,
and blessed the cooling water
that came pouring from the sky.

She loved the iridescence
of the blue-green dragonflies
and marveled at their flying skills
as they went whirring by.

The rain soon turned magnolia leaves
into miniature garden ponds,
there the dragonflies must lay their eggs
before the rain is gone.

Wrens and sparrows chirped and chattered,
they enjoyed the cooling rain,
but the squirrels were wet and grumpy
and the jays were raising Cain.

The girl did not seek cover
and the rain ran down her face,
on her lashes rain drops trembled,
much like crystals gently placed.

The thunder never frightened her
nor did the lightning scare,
to nature she was connected,
to living things, aware.

She lived in every moment,
soon the thunderstorm would end
and the dark earth would start steaming,
then the heat would come again.

Suddenly all fell silent
in her garden of delights,
all living things were quiet
as the steam began to rise.

The gray squirrel broke the silence
and if squirrels could really speak,
she knew he would be cursing,
surely swearing a blue streak.

And then she saw the blue jay
madly pumping out his call,
his angry face was comical
Mohawk feathers standing tall.

She swam the Sea of Apathy
and the Ocean of Ennui,
there the waves upheld her gently,
washing over memories.

And the earthworms turned the soil
in the garden of her mind
and the trees again were weeping
from the echoes left behind.

Details | Garden Poem | |

Ode to Joy

Like morning light break forth of eastern skies
And astound with beauty the waking eyes
So did my heart before you rose to praise
A seraph in the nectar of flesh, May's
Brightest bloom in the garden of gladness
The purest form of earth's bare loveliness.
To you, O joy, O let me sing
Let me tell of love first coming.

Cho.
Awake the woodland choir for my song
Awake the primal hour of spring's soft throng
Awake the lark not yet on wing
Awake the world, an anthem bring
Of praise, of praise to beauty, praise
To the sweet rainbow of our days

Sweet fragments make the rainbow bloom aloft
Light splintered is yet in beauty so soft
And whole, the healing balm of my parched soul
Each little wonder a stair a bright stair
A garden of glory on heaven's scroll
I climb to suck the breast of worship here
I seek your worth and find God there
Uplifting me from mortal care

Inside the tabernacle of the soul
Wild and dusty, the dry harmattans roll
And every tender tree gasping for rain
Beheld sapphire arid sky and pray in vain
The pearly cumulus would sable turn
Where on the eye pivots the graceful tern
And then so suddenly you came
The phoenix of another name

Too deaf the deft pianist fingers toll
His litany your virtue to extol
You the image's bone transformed, transcend
All that desire loves and love declares right
Eden's broken wings yet make praise ascend
As prayers in the fluid light, a flight
Of rapture, leaving silent stars
And earth's tumult to jealous wars

Nothing but you, and you alone exist
O sacred symphony of heaven's bliss
And all earth shambles fore you fall again
To rise in your glory a better tale
The joy of beggining the end of pain
Lighthouse eternal, love that cannot fail
Sweet still the night aglow parades
Yet star like flowers morning fades  

Morning melted into mist, grass perspired
In the cool, leaves transpired droplets of bliss
The rainbow my thoughts like heaven attired
Beauty its providence hasten to kiss
Time had divinity at its leafed door
And seas and rivers in long triumph roar
The rhythm of earth so to begin
To break the carnal rule of sin.


Details | Garden Poem | |

A Modern Haiku


dressed in queen anne's lace  chrysanthemums spray baby breath awaken earth's vase
September 21 2014

Details | Garden Poem | |

The Young Gardener

She is learning young
Pure genteel pleasures of a garden
Amid the fragrant roses and towering lupines
That give the winter pardon.
Sweet feminine echo of her beautiful mother
She holds up her watering can
a tiny version of the other.

Now she mimics to perfection
The sprinkling of flowers 
as she giggles with delight
At birds in secret bowers.

She can't wait for the 'morrow
Her duties to employ
She is mother's little helper
And Daddy's little joy

For	Isaiah Zerbst -Gordon Dunlop Leslie Contest
http://www.pasionporlapintura.com/art-gallery/george-dunlop-leslie-painter/leslie-gd-the-young-gardener-oil-painting-reproduction/

Details | Garden Poem | |

Here in the garden

Here in the garden

I sit here in my garden
Just watching all the fish
Swimming round, and round, the pond
For what more could I wish?
Than to have a wondrous garden
Filled with trees, and many flowers
There’s naught as sweet as a nice garden
I find there so much power.

I built this garden by myself
Though others helped a bit
Some friends dug me a great fish pond
And I’m so proud of it
As I sit here listening
The fountain sings its song
As I feel god Is here with me
It is here that I belong

Sometimes I worry though, I do
For I am aging fast
And the garden takes much energy
I hope my strength will last
For without my lovely garden
Oh, I would feel so sad
This lovely garden that I have
It makes my heart so glad.

1 October 2014.














Details | Garden Poem | |

Mother's Garden

 
Mother's Garden ~~ I grew up amongst every kind of plant and flower, Beyond our gate was the garden of dear mother; This Eden was colourful, tangled and so sensational, So erratic, untamed and just totally unmanageable. Mother knew the Latin names of each blooming posy, The iris, lily, rose, aster, dahlia, marigold and peony; I really loved the purple larkspur and pink gardenia, Mother said she loved them all but adored camellia. Brightly painted butterflies danced and glided happily, And the nesting birds all sang their songs so loudly; We had an old swing and we would sit and sip tea, In the shade of the trees, just my mother and me. O to turn back the clock of time, moving and clicking, To be in my mother's garden again, a child dreaming. _________________________________________ July 2, 2014 Sonnet Entered in the contest, Any poem under 15 lines, Poet Destroyer First Place

Details | Garden Poem | |

Surprise Factor

    (Why I'm Still Breathing)

When the cow was dry, she was compliant.
When she calved, she turned vicious
and no fence could hold her,
but she gave milk in abundance,
and Dad refused to sell her.

She chased Mother 'round and 'round the barn
until Mom panicked, climbed the corner logs,
and perched under the roof,
clinging like a cicada shell on a weed-pod.
Beasty pawed and bellowed until Dad came home.
"I could gain on her on the corners,"
Mother said, "because I could turn faster,
but she gained on me on the straightaway."

Plug-ugly tore through the fence,
into the garden, where Mom and I worked.
"Run, Cona Faye, run," my mother shouted.
How did she know? The cow passed Mother
and thundered straight for me. I ran.

At the fence, snorts filled my ears. Hot breath
steamed my back. I saw myself stomped,
pulverized into the dirt. I turned, screaming 
at full volume, and flailed my arms
like a windmill in a strong wind.
That old red cow locked her front legs
and skidded like a freight train on full brake.

I seized the moment, and scaled that rail fence.

Details | Garden Poem | |

A rose

A rose does not know
How beautiful she was
How innocent she was
How lovely she was…..

She grows up silently
Blooms in the garden silently 
She spreads God’s glories silently
Oneday she falls down silently….

She left behind her unique
Colors and smell in memoirs
She feels no pride in it
Rather she takes it as her duty……

Details | Garden Poem | |

Love in my veins

Your love flows through my veins
like the Nile River flows through
the sands of Eygpt.
Love flows through my veins
like rivers that break off into endless streams
and water the gardens of the green stems
of torn covered rose bushes.

In my veins, you flow, as a sparrow
flies through the blue skies in beauty.
You are the blood that flows through my veins
and later settles deep in my heart
and embraces me with a hug of intimace.

Love flows through my veins
like endless notes played by the sweetest composer
along with his private orchestra playing a lovely melody.
Rivers, streams break off and flow into lakes and oceans,
Like my veins that lead to my heart,
you are always there flowing through my veins.
Your love flows through my veins.