Poetical power of the flowers

Choose your favorite plant or flower or anything plant based that grows in the ground on the ground or in the sea.

Erotic poems welcome

New and old entries welcome

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ROJO ROSE LOVE

You cannot grow roses
And not expect to bleed  
Every lover of roses knows this

Pain sates their need
Ask any rose gardener
Blood meal is their feed

True love causes pain
For one lover will someday leave
And the other will remain

For blood and roses
Are one and the same
Pain and suffering
Is part of the game  

Black Dandelions

Dandelions,
though you thought me beautifully evasive,

Dandelions
smother and choke
their counterparts;

Dandelions
know no boundaries
they only know they exist as I exist;

You hand her Dandelions
tied in your mother’s favorite silk ribbon;

I wilt
at the sight of your black blasphemy
because you loved me once

Who would’ve thought your blackheart charm
would soil seeds after you bled them
then buried them, dry?

LOTUS AND THE MUD

©Oxy2016Dup
All Rights Reserved

Pungent, sticky, putrid and mucky
Slimy waters devoid of fresh spring
Cold surface under the shadows
A palace of wet, dirty abode.

From it's heart blooms pink
An eye catching pure spirit
With strength so great
That no darkness could fade.

Clean soul resides in it's heart
In darkest hour, it remains intact
Fragile skin and tantalizing petals
Can't hide that lurking femme fatale

The Lotus within us will always be ready to fight
Waiting for the bright light to fully bloom in might
Hope is the path that we travel at night
Leading to a morning that reveals a beautiful sight

Each of us at one time or another
Would go swimming in the dark
Mad face dirty and full of mud
Vile taste of bitter marked our beginnings

Like the tensile flower we would survive
Ugly scars would in time be the art
Reborn in timeless frames
Of the canvass of our so called life.

Luv Grows

I was walking thru the park one day    
it was warm and sunny      
cloudless sky with a gentle breeze    
saw a tree that was different from the rest    
small and frail compared to others      
taller trees around it seemed to mock it    
it had not much soil on its roots    
so I covered them up and gave it some water    
I named it ~ Mana      
other trees had booms of different colors      
red....orange....yellow    
Mana had bright purple buds      
didn't seem to bloom      
I visited Mana from time to time      
one day I came and what a sight      
Mana had grown to great heights    
it's buds were bloomed so beautifully      
sweet fragrance filled the forest      
other trees now marveled at its beauty    
     
Moral of this story......different isn't always ugly!!      
Just a little luv can make anothers beauty bloom    
     
Dedicated to a friend who is different.....    
with a beautiful heart and soul xo    
     
     
Copyright © 2016 Flowergirl All Rights Reserved

A bouquet for those I love:

Crocus in the center
(Abuse not)
Blue Periwinkle around
([my] Early friendship)

Add Red and Pink Roses for a meaning clear
([or] romantic love)

Surround it in a barrier of Mourning Brides and Lauestina
(I have lost all) (I die if neglected)

But add Milkvetch to the edge as well
([but] Your presence softens my pains)

Lilacs and Promises

Innocence almost forgotten
written poems of love
in Lilac edged white paper
made me remember again

the first blush of youth
bouquet of love to one
who pledged forever more
to love and to hold

Lilac shades of purple
adorned the living room
scents a faint remembrance
of how being in love  was

then little disagreements, mortgages
silence and indifference set in
like pale lilacs on tall crystal vase
beautifully aloof on the side table

The beauty of Lilacs
left behind in memories
albums left in boxes
as I left for a long walk
away.

Deep. Beautiful. Fragrant. Colourful. Fresh. Petals. Great stuff

Alice ran away
From the talking flowers
She dreamt for hours

Oh, Poppy

I will forever
remember the
month we met it
was floral love
at first sight

Memories
of you there
are so many
let me take
you back

My mother
driving me to
fields filled with
poppies just to
see my smile
wiping out
my pain

My ex who
always called
me poppy that’s
endearing cause
poppy in dutch
means doll

Claprose
is your name
here, let me tell
you a little secret
I do not like your
thorny sisters
please do
not tell

Bud

what I love the
most about you:
you resemble me
fragile and delicate
on the outside bud..
addictive underneath

The crisp edge of the breeze draws me to those fields of green
Where we had lain time and again
The dandelions sprouting,
some white in their old age
Fall is here and we'll be asleep again my friends
The cold will hold us until the next cycle.
This can not be said for the couple laying above our dying roots
They've wilted and their roots have staled

F is for FOXGLOVE

With turgid stems and grasping roots,
Begin this flower's suckling shoots.

The pale green stem proudly stakes its place,
For it's hoping to meet you face to face.

The leaves of these seem here nor there,
But only eat one if you dare.

Semblance of sage but quite different to taste,
Ingest too much and you'll rot down to waste.

Travel up the stem some more,
It's turning paler, of that I'm sure.

At the top, the beauty is found,
A flower not befitting of the ground.

Plumes of purples, cones of pinks,
domeing inwards, each petal links.

Cones themselves of ivory and butter,
Speckled with brown, a gentle smutter.

The treasure inside is just for bees,
The nectar's needed, a warning to thieves.

On closer look, whiskers have sprouted,
Tiny and delicate but deadly in habit.

The beauty of the foxglove cannot be denied,
But those that indulge may not survive.

The plumes, the purples, the pinks and the cones,
Are the sirens for bees and for the bees alone.

The starving rabbits just can't help themselves,
it looks so sweet, so tasty, they desire nothing else.

With a knaw and chomp and chew, chew, chew, crunch.
The rabbits have finished up their beauteous lunch.

Yet what they don't realise, it's the other way round,
Lunch has finished them up, as they cramp down to the ground.

The churning, the hurling, the shaking with sweat,
Regurgitated morsels of what they just ate.

Such lessons are learnt in the most horrid way,
Digitalis will snare you if you are lead astray.

Standing and looking, oh yes fine with that,
but don't come too close dear, you'll be caught by the trap.

Behind many beauties, you'll soon come to see,
There's something more deadly, awaiting to pounce free

The moral of the tale, is foolishly simple to tell,
The foxglove may be alluring, it may be a belle.

What pleases the eye may snuff out the bearer,
if temptation wins out, you'll make the reaper your carer,

AFRIENDOFTINA

Rich. Scented. Seasonal. Seeds. Poisonous and green

Absolutely smashing

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Morning Glories

Morning glories.
Her lover brings her
Morning glories, each day,
Blue bouquets from him.

Flowers gathered from soil
Rich with his passion.
Blossoms that glisten with dew
In the early hours of dawn

While the room is bathed
In the deep hues of blue,
Where the end of dreams fade
And lift back the hood of sleep.

For it's in the morning
When senses slowly awaken,
Colors gradually unfold,
And yearnings turn into

Morning glories.
Her lover gives to her
Morning glories, the
Flower of their rapture.