Happy Valentine's Day - poem by Del “Abe” Jones

Hearts and Flowers

A day for hearts and flowers
The time to say you care
A chance to tell your loved ones
You're glad that they are there.

But!, wonder why we wait
Until, this certain day
To do those "special" things
And, say those things we say?

Why not? Tell mate or lover
Each day, the whole year through
"Valentine, I'm glad you're mine
And, I sure do love you".

Del “Abe” Jones

Nobody knows this little Rose - A Poem by Emily Dickinson

Nobody knows this little Rose

Nobody knows this little Rose—
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it—
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey—
On its breast to lie—
Only a Bird will wonder—
Only a Breeze will sigh—
Ah Little Rose—how easy
For such as thee to die!

Emily Dickinson

Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower - Poem by Emily Dickinson

Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower

Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower,
But I could never sell—
If you would like to borrow,
Until the Daffodil

Unties her yellow Bonnet
Beneath the village door,
Until the Bees, from Clover rows
Their Hock, and Sherry, draw,

Why, I will lend until just then,
But not an hour more!

Emily Dickinson

The Faded Flower - A poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Faded Flower

Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk,
Poor faded flow'ret! on his careless way;
Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk,
Then onward pass'd and left thee to decay.
Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen
Thy modest beauties dew'd with Evening's gem,
I had not rudely cropp'd thy parent stem,
But left thee, blushing, 'mid the enliven'd green.
And now I bend me o'er thy wither'd bloom,
And drop the tear - as Fancy, at my side,
Deep-sighing, points the fair frail Abra's tomb -
'Like thine, sad Flower, was that poor wanderer's pride!
Oh! lost to Love and Truth, whose selfish joy
Tasted her vernal sweets, but tasted to destroy!'

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

My Pretty Rose Tree - A poem by William Blake

My Pretty Rose Tree

A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said 'I've a pretty rose tree,'
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.

William Blake

Galoshesless - poem by Sophia White

Galoshesless

I'm gallavanting happily
With nary a smidgen of care
Through rainforest serendipity
And flowers fill the air.

The ground is rather muddy
From all the gobs of rain
E'en so, who could study
When the wild fills the brain?

I'm stomping without reason
Intoxicated with abandon
And, wow, the world is pleasin'
When you see it all as random.

I'm traipsing like a madman
Without galoshes to my name
And let the wild wetness in!
I've got the world to tame!

Sophia White

Earth Moments: The Flowers - Poem by Sohia White

Earth Moments: The Flowers

I pluck a daisy from the roadside
Enchanted by the simplicity
Then shamed of my audacity
Place it gently on the ground

The roses tumble down
A thousand to a vine
Almost white -
But not quite
I breathe in very slow.

The wildflowers are bundled
No order, no rhyme
A mad jumble of blossoms
I hold them to myself.

I pass the large blooms
In the garden, in rows,
Colors matched and neatly planted
I run away to where
The wildflowers are spilling.

High on the top of the tree
One lone flower rests
I watch from the ground
Wishing.

Sophia White

An Angel and a Violet - in the Garden - A poem by Sophia White

An Angel and a Violet - in the Garden

A small garden, lush with flowers
Pinks and whites and lavenders
Specked with candles in colored glass
Strolled two young and handsome lovers.

The moon was half a glass of wine,
The stars were shards of shattered glass.
The water tumbled through its bed
Where the gentleman walked beside his lass.

The grass wrapped around their ankles
As the candlelight dappled the stream
And the stones shone white in the moon
But none outshone the young girl’s beam.

And I sat on my windowsill,
Watching with a smile for the two,
As I picked up my rough wooden flute
And began to play a romantic tune.

Sophia White

The Rose Family - A poem by Robert Frost

The Rose Family

The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple's a rose,
And the pear is, and so's
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only know
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose--
But were always a rose.

Robert Frost

With A Flower - Poem by Emily Dickinson

With A Flower

I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too --
And angels know the rest.

I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.

- Emily Dickinson

The Wild Flower's Song - A poem by William Blake

The Wild Flower's Song

As I wandered the forest,
The green leaves among,
I heard a Wild Flower
Singing a song.

'I slept in the earth
In the silent night,
I murmured my fears
And I felt delight.

'In the morning I went
As rosy as morn,
To seek for new joy;
But oh! met with scorn.'

William Blake