Rhyme Flower Poems | Examples
These Rhyme Flower poems are examples of Flower poems about Rhyme. These are the best examples of Flower Rhyme poems written by international poets.
I beseech the sun to undress the stars
In the same manner you disrobe hearts
Inspiring indigo pulse to dance runaway
Carrying cranberry cries yellow yesterday
Exposed by charm your whimsical words
I’m like a feather in your arms like birds
Riding romantic breeze unlimited heights
Purple passion coloring days and nights
High as a red kite I’m destined to swoon
Emerald eyes hypnotized by light of moon
As a night flower power in your blue bloom
I lay with you hours as we cradle and spoon
As hot as lava you stir me from within
I am white paper ready to receive black pen
Words fall like rain despite night or day
Forever promising you’ll never go away
You are red sun in my gray cloudy sky
Cheering me on despite blues in life
I look up and see your beautiful light
From gold glowing soul such a delight
As white wind beneath my brown wing
You carry cranberry heart love inspiring
Your yellow whimsical smile like spring
Give rise to sapphire songbirds that sing
You are as sweet as sap from green tree
Lime cure your laugh defeats melancholy
Moonlight carves path from Black Sea
That is teal tragic past rebirth’s dream
Your heart is a love flower warm opening
Even in rain shower you power positivity
I can look at you for hours inhaling peace
You empower what nectar is to a bee
Of nectar, I never sing.
I only beat my wings.
As long as I'm alive,
I gather nectar for the hive.
I toil for a bountiful nectar crop.
I work until I drop.
So the colony will thrive,
I do it for the hive.
Lo, I hear something strange.
My brain begins to change.
It is a flower's voice.
She tells me I have choice.
I never lived until
I discovered I have free will.
Now, in nectar, I rejoice,
knowing I have choice.
Tulips in Spring
Daffodil-Summer
Snowflakes, December’s designs
~ melt on the front of my Hummer
Within the crowded dark,
She dreams of a golden bloom.
Weaves a swift, geometric loop,
Then traces right, a graceful swoop,
To banish gloom. from the room.
And share a silent spark.
A bed of golden flowers spreads across blades of grass
It's like a blanket of sunshine on the ground
A resting place waits without a sound
Soft, comforting, unlike the broken glass
Pieces of glass, those sharp memories left behind
As views of blurred miles are passed
The wheels of change turn, oh so fast
Old thoughts, new thoughts, pass through my mind
A bed of golden flowers remains fresh and new
Thriving safely, freely, on the way
Highlights such a beautiful, clear day
Offering peace with a bright, stunning, view
There is no return to what was lost
Only today, as precious time moves forward
Although there's proof of being no coward
Knowing the bed of flowers will fade with the frost
Heidi Sands
8/30/26
(C)opyright
Even to myself I avoid to show
My begging for all kinds of troubles to go
Far away, so far where they’d never be seen
Then I’d feel relieved, on your sill I’d lean
Looking at your garden and the green field
On a clear day when the Coombe Hill
Becomes visible, maybe we’ll have a stroll
And as usual, a drizzling rain would fall
On our way back, we return soaking wet
And the sun peeks out just before it sets
Switch the telly on, what’s the news they tell
Nothing good for today, and tomorrow as well
So we’re off to the garden, to smell the flowers
Under the spell of the magic hours..
He wears a heavy coat of rusty fur,
hunched and brooding in the coastal scrub.
They painted him a villain in the nursery tales,
a big, bad shadow waiting for the dark.
He has a hundred hollow eyes that never blink,
carved open by the jaws of summer fire.
A crooked spine, a fist of woody knots,
grumbling low curses to the southerly wind.
But who could blame his wicked, jagged grin?
He learned his roughness from the searing drought,
patrolling the ashes of a blackened world
while delicate soft gums slept in the canopy.
He is the grumpy elder of the heath,
bristling, thick-skinned, and unapologetic—
holding his seeds like stolen golden treasure
behind those silent, gaping wooden mouths.
I'm a stem standing uprightly
Basking rigid strong
Leaves as arms
I flourish under the sun
I shower in rain
Growing I stand tall and strong
Reaching up
I am fluent.
My head sky shines
Bloom budings my head
Smiles fragrant blue
I am a flower succulent
Beautiful radiant fragrant
I grow I stand ever tall
8/9/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr
The cockcrow heralded
the first flush of the day.
I woke up spirited
The sun gave its first ray.
Low clouds spun in a whirl
A breeze blew steadily
All became white as pearl.
Sky became heavenly.
I grabbed something for food
I walked the narrow street
Checkered Bougainvillea viewed
They all bloomed in the heat.
Mend the fences they will say,
give forgiveness as you pray.
Is there a smile in the suns bright ray?
Maybe I do not want a pretty flower bouquet.
I think you should be on your way,
fly out of my life like a blue jay.
I do not want to mend this fence today,
you bring me clouds of gray.
I want only a happy day,
make it fast with no delay
Marigolds fair as doilied silk
Woven on trails of summer trees
Patterns flick like confetti blown ,
And splatter along huffs of breezé
How petals dance in rhythmic sails
To gather 'round marbles and clay -
A montage waking dawn's embrace
With imprints of floral display.
And basking through a dusky lane
Golden laced pinpoints blend with night ;
When blossoms rise beneath clouds' glide
Their patchwork... a nature's delight!
Blown glass heart slowly expanding.
With every breath they choose to lend you.
Pouring their heaviest selves into you.
You're quickly contracting while they're resting.
Shaping you into a vessel of misuse.
Blown glass heart cooling and cracking.
Timeless masterpiece shattering.
The fillers spilling out, red-faced and laughing.
No blowers left to be found
no lenders of breaths
no fillers of vessels
no more compounding interest
no angel to sweep you from the abyss.
The heart is still there, though in mosaic.
Your beauty was never in how they seesawed you
but how you see, saw you.
Life's beating mosaic in cornflower blue.
The sun follows an April shower
one bright day in early May.
A bee's got business with a flower,
but I won't write it up today.
This reporter ain't that kind of guy.
Give them privacy, says I.
Holy Told-ye-o, I can’t belief
in the hot blustering sun, my pore rose
felt to the difficult ground, droopping it’s head and leafs
oh my pore pore pore rose. I am afeared its toast.
You rilly think it deservd this?
For heavens sack, it didn’t naught.
I loved that melliflous flour like I love my too kids.
I cant belief the weigh human beans with no apathy laught
about it dyeing!