Gardens poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best Gardens poems ever written. Read all poems about Gardens.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens...
I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one
The love of field and coppice
Of green and shaded lanes,
O! nothing earthly save the ray
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,
As in those gardens where the day
Springs from the gems of Circassy-
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
Did the people of Viet Nam
use lanterns of stone?
Did they hold ceremonies
to reverence the opening of buds?
We have tested and tasted too much, lover-
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
The construction of a woman:
a woman is not made of flesh
of bone and sinew
belly and breasts, elbows and liver and toe.
They sent me a salwar kameez
glistening like an orange split open,
Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha,
Wouldst thou recall to my heart, papeeha,
Dreams of delight that are gone,
When swift to my side came the feet of my lover
Once from a big, big building,
When I was small, small,
The queer folk in the windows
Would smile at me and call.
Woman, let me demystify you,
So I can see why I love you
Let me search:
I have lived with shades so long,
And talked to them so oft,
Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World,
With the wonderful water round you curled,
And the wonderful grass upon your breast--
World, you are beautifully drest.
I was raised by a Catholic mother and a Jewish father and while that may be difficult to perceive…it helped me understand there is more than one way to believe.
It's like seeds of each religion were planted in my soul and, once each garden of flowers emerged, I found myself at the heart of where those two gardens of belief converged.
Moms are the most Dashing Flowers ever in the Gardens of Affection
In my childhood there would grow...
Red tulips on the rooftops of our houses;
Gone are those good olden days!
No tulip gardens are now on our roofs;
Places of paradise of Utopia are existing in hill stations and Brindawan gardens;
The lucky ones have the opportunity to see such places at least once in life;
In between three to five years itself I have the chance to see those wonderful places;
Those places are like great oases in the vast desert of a nation sure I say!
Freedom loving birds fly and live anywhere in the world of Nature as they wish;
Modern world of machines and civilization of people have driven them out now
In the cities and towns expanding into villages too as expansion programme;
The first prey for this jolt is sparrow and myna birds in many places nowadays!
Ok, listen good and remember, I'm going to say it only once. I had no choice, you have stars and gardens and oceans, sweet music and I had none of these.
When the spring returns after winter times,
The spring birds that had fallen silent,
Come dancing from their winter habitats again,
To sing joyful notes in their heavenly home,
Oh scratch not anew my sores,
It reminds me of my pain once more,
I am pained, in my faded garden,
Buds blossom into flowers no more,
Whenthe spring returns after winter times,
The spring birds that had fallen silent,
Come dancingfrom their winter habitats again,
To sing joyful notesin their heavenly home,
Come brother, come, this is the age of Gorilla.
Come eat, I have served storms on your plates, let us eat and grow to the size of the titanic moment awaiting us why linger there? They are not rays but beams of moonlight which will crash on your head.
Do not waste time, comforting those cuckoos living in isolation - the breeze frolicking anointed with pollen is flying in the gardens, whether it can carry the weight of birds or the weight of songs, I do not know, but as for Chaitra, it has no time even to weep.
See, there he comes, sauntering along the banks of little brooks, teaching them songs to sing. The child -waters, swallow his songs and leap forward roaring into the forest: in the autumnal gardens, the last leaf hanging from the branch in mid-air, senses the weight of its life and considers its relationship to the arriving spring.
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