100 Famous Poems About Flowers: The Beauty of Flowers in Poetic Art

Flowers, plants, clouds, wind and rivers… are natural organisms, considered as nature. Nature is the endless source of inspiration in literature and poetry, nature captivates many poets’ hearts, in which flowers are the soul, emotions and messages that poets wants to entrust in their poems. For centuries, there have been many famous poems about flowers, from classic to modernity by a lot of great poets.

Flowers are considered as a sexy image in the scenery. Flowers are also seen as a homeland, a part of the longing for love. Scents of flowers help to comfort the spirit, colors bring beauty to the soul, will and energy. Flowers are people, people are flowers, flowers also have personalities and emotions. Therefore, poets use the image of flowers as a striking aesthetic, especially in love.

Poems about flowers speak of love and yearning, like morning love songs. They talk about life, human love, love life, even about politics and philosophy. Life changes, flowers transform. Nowadays flowers are not only a product of creation but also an artistic value, a new soul, new beauty, new value.

1, Tulips by A.E. Stallings

The tulips make me want to paint,
Something about the way they drop
Their petals on the tabletop
And do not wilt so much as faint,

Something about their burnt-out hearts,
Something about their pallid stems
Wearing decay like diadems,
Parading finishes like starts,

Something about the way they twist
As if to catch the last applause,
And drink the moment through long straws,
And how, tomorrow, they’ll be missed.

The way they’re somehow getting clearer,
The tulips make me want to see—
The tulips make the other me
(The backwards one who’s in the mirror,

The one who can’t tell left from right),
Glance now over the wrong shoulder
To watch them get a little older
And give themselves up to the light.

2, Tulips by Sylvia Plath

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free –
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.

3, Pink Tulips by Christian M. Coli

Please know this tragedy was not your fault
take what you hear with a grain of salt
reality filtered through personal perception
resistor radio buzzing broken reception

Sadly sometimes we only receive static
dimming luminous light archival attic
dreary dark filter adjusts automatically
vision voided barren black negativity

Inspiration instead lifting eyes love light
knowing through daily struggles hard fight
spiritual survivors perpetual perfect fatherly love
child cared heart held grace glorify God above

Standing strong resilient right here beside you
His love timeless unconditional eternally true
expect even demons darkest hour shall pass
walking flowered fields freely given green grass

Tethered together healing hearts hand-in-hand
everything ours God granted promised planned
chose charity kept faith observe His command
momentous magnificent majestic glorious grand

4, The Tulip by Emily Dickinson

She slept beneath a tree
Remembered but by me.
I touched her cradle mute;
She recognized the foot,
Put on her carmine suit, —
And see!

5, The Tulips by Savita Tyagi

That was the year I planted tulip bulbs.
After a year of eager and patient waiting
The gorgeous red and yellow flowers
Of mellow beauty filled in the garden.

I watched every morning in quiet admiration,
The dew drops and bees circling on soft petals.
The young tulips in mischievous breeze made,
Flower bed sizzle with life, vibrant and aerial.

As morning rays spread to light up the sky
From tall glass windows of my living room
Their exquisite brilliance and soothing aura
of beauteous harmony entered into my being.

But I didn’t know much about tulips then.
Soon I came to realize that each stem
Bore just one flower, and their delicate
Flashy bloom lasted only for a week most.

I felt chagrined and cheated for my labor.
A sadness prevailed as the flowers wilted
And the single stem soon started to limp.
This was my first intimate tending of gardening.

Nothing much I could do but to miss the tulips
And endure the hurt of their short span of life.
As spring advanced into summer, the long
Herbaceous plants also withered to ground.

To see flowerbeds devoid of green was a blow.
The intricate planning of nature felt erroneous.
The showy life and the quick decay, that the
Tulips exhibited was new to my experience.

Or should I say that for the first time I was
Touched so deeply by the natural ending of
plant life. Like the devastating loss of my mother,
The saddest encounter- I took long to recover.

But nature is still kind and benevolent.
It takes our loved ones never to return again
But blesses us again with family and friends.
Tulips too bloom every year again and again.

They give me a week of their life filled with
Amorous beauty and post a cruel message
Wrapped in quiet tenderness to accept
Mother Nature’s workings at her behest.

6, Radiant Golden Tulips by Mark Heathcote

Contra to all light there is
No straight paths – but one.
So, if yours is a rainbow, after a storm:
You’ll still reach home a chosen one.
God’s rainbow is strong…
His – is a double helix, bound up?
Close to your own heart and soul.
You’ll chalice all His love up
Like a hopelessly sinking vessel
Then you’ll be his radiant golden tulips.
Even; if your stem too is bent.
For God’s love is strong for you.
Contra to all light there is
No straight paths – but one.

7, Black Tulips by Mark Heathcote

Black tulips, tulips red, tulips gold
They warm my heart from the bitter cold.

On bending stems they curtsy on the wind
Bob on the air, like sunlight, been pinned.

In frozen earth crossways hatched at night
They weep – close – fall asleep till daylight.

Black tulips, tulips red, tulips gold
They warm my heart from the bitter cold.

I wish I were a snowdrop an astronaut.
Above the clouds but I’m not, I’m an inkblot.

8, Colorful Tulips by Lamar Cole

Tiny Tim would probably tiptoe through the tulips.
He and his sweetie would lay there and drink mint juleps.
They would enjoy the beautiful sunshine.
And he softly kissing his lady so fine.
And softly stroking her hair of blond.
Enjoying the colorful pretty tulips and having so much fun.

9, Still Life With Tulips by Erica Jong

Because you did, I too arrange flowers,
Watching the pistils just like insolent tongues
And the hard, red flesh of the petals
Widening beneath my eyes. They move like the hands

Of clocks, seeming not to move except
When I turn my gaze; then savagely
In the white room, they billow and spread
Until their redness engulfs me utterly.

Mother, you are far away and claim
In mournful letters that I do not need you;
Yet here in this sunny room, your tulips
Devour me, sucking hungrily
My watery nourishment, filling my house
Like a presence, like an enemy.

Geared to your intervals as the small hand
Of a clock repeats the larger, I,
Your too-faithful daughter, still drag behind you,
Turning in the same slow circles.

Across the years and distances, my hands
Among these fierce, red blossoms repeat
Your gestures. I hope my daughter never writes:
‘Because you did, I too arrange flowers.’

10, Brave Little Crocus by John Herlihy

Brave little crocus, the first to face winter chill,
Intrepidly poking its head under my windowsill.
You waited patiently for this season of resurrection,
To bow your budding head in praise and discretion.
The yellow daffodils awaken, tulips purple and pink,
Each open their weary eyes with a nod and a wink.

In deep ground a place where only flower roots grow,
Their instincts sense the first thaw, they simply know.
The mercy of dreams lies in this unexpected awakening,
The roots, buds, and flowers never the spring forsaking.
In velvet folds or exploring fingers, the petals form cups,
Peeking in rows and clusters from the warm earth’s ruts.

The dark ground shakes with the timber of a ghost’s voice,
Memory’s voice again sings sweetly, aroused to rejoice.
Winter’s curtain is drawn open to reveal the sun’s light,
Wiping clean those innocent faces of the winter night.
Saluting shyly the wind and drenched in morning dew,
The unruly blossoms reveal the secret they always knew.

→ Read more: The 30 Most Famous Poems About Tulips

11, Before The White Chrysanthemum by Yosa Buson

Before the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate
a moment.
Translated by Robert Hass

12, Chrysanthemum by Anon

Chrysanthemum,
Rose,
Buttercup.
Each morning he would guess a floret that might match
Her loveliness.
And every night,
When he pulled her close under
Periwinkle sheets
He would admit defeat.
“Of course how foolish I’ve been!
No Chrysanthemum can compete
With the way your velvet lips flood pink
After I kiss you, my love.
Not even the brightest rose
can compare to the sunshine
that pours from your soul
every day, my darling.”

13, Chrysanthemum by Pauline Celerio

Oh dear Chrysanthemum,
You look so joyful dancing with the summer wind.
And your petals are the testament
of your courage and hardwork.

Hello dear Chrysanthemum,
You look so lovely under the midday sun,
But the world has yet to understand,
the pain it took you to bloom.

14, Till Chrysanthemum Clouds Weep With Sorrow by Mark Heathcote

Residing on a trellis flowering
Rose blossoms falling to be swept-away
Arcing to the light distantly stretching
Collected in the near-future someday
To scent the waters of eternal love
But till then hold on, until then hold on
Like chiffon white swans a pure paragon
The chorus of a song bloom beauteous.

Flower-like a star, centre your heart.
You are a trellis, white rose flowering
Garland all your strength ready to depart
A garden trellis calls you-towering.
It is your one true destiny, darling
Darling, open your heart thorns for support
Ah, I don’t mind bleeding or exalting
To see such wonders of pure art depart.

Choosing a time to inherit deaths dart
Avoid seasons circling nip devouring
Flower-like a star, centre your heart.
All existence should be empowering
Every today a borrowed tomorrow
So till then hold on, until then hold on
Till chrysanthemum clouds weep with sorrow
Till then hold on, till then hold on and yawn.

15, The Man In Chrysanthemum Land by Emily Pauline Johnson

There’s a brave little berry-brown man
At the opposite side of the earth;
Of the White, and the Black, and the Tan,
He’s the smallest in compass and girth.
O! he’s little, and lively, and Tan,
And he’s showing the world what he’s worth.
For his nation is born, and its birth
Is for hardihood, courage, and sand,
So you take off your cap
To the brave little Jap
Who fights for Chrysanthemum Land.

Near the house that the little man keeps,
There’s a Bug-a-boo building its lair;
It prowls, and it growls, and it sleeps
At the foot of his tiny back stair.
But the little brown man never sleeps,
For the Brownie will battle the Bear–
He has soldiers and ships to command;
So take off you cap
To the brave little Jap
Who fights for Chrysanthemum Land.

Uncle Sam stands a-watching near by,
With his finger aside of his nose–
John Bull with a wink in his eye,
Looks round to see how the wind blows–
O! jolly old John, with his eye
Ever set on the East and its woes.
More than hoeing their own little rows
These wary old wags understand,
But they take off their caps
To the brave little Japs
Who fight for Chrysanthemum Land.

Now he’s given us Geishas, and themes
For operas, stories, and plays,
His silks and his chinas are dreams,
And we copy his quaint little ways;
O! we look on his land in our dreams,
But his value we failed to appraise,
For he’ll gather his laurels and bays–
His Cruisers and Columns are manned,
And we take off our caps
To the brave little Japs
Who fight for Chrysanthemum Land.

16, Chrysanthemum Moon by Star Child

Chrysanthemum moon how beautiful you are
Heavenly is your glow
Rising to the heavens
You are full of grace
A power so divine
Never ending beauty
Tending to your children with care
Heavenly you are
Embracing all
Mother moon
Unlimited is your love
Motherly love you have

Mother moon
Oh how beautiful you are
Overhead watching your children
No end to your joy

17, The Chrysanthemums In The Eastern Garden by Bai Juyi

The days of my youth left me long ago;
And now in their turn dwindle my years of prime.
With what thoughts of sadness and loneliness
I walk again in this cold, deserted place!
In the midst of the garden long I stand alone;
The sunshine, faint; the wind and dew chill.
The autumn lettuce is tangled and turned to seed;
The fair trees are blighted and withered away.
All that is left are a few chrysanthemum-flowers
That have newly opened beneath the wattled fence.
I had brought wine and meant to fill my cup,
When the sight of these made me stay my hand.
I remember, when I was young,
How easily my mood changed from sad to gay.
If I saw wine, no matter what season,
Before I drank it, my heart was already glad.
But now that age comes,
A moment of joy is harder and harder to get.
And always I fear that when I am quite old
The strongest liquor will leave me comfortless.
Therefore I ask you, late chrysanthemum-flower
At this sad season why do you bloom alone?
Though well I know that it was not for my sake,
Taught by you, for a while I will open my face.

18, The Last Chrysanthemum by Thomas Hardy

Why should this flower delay so long
To show its tremulous plumes?
Now is the time of plaintive robin-song,
When flowers are in their tombs.

Through the slow summer, when the sun
Called to each frond and whorl
That all he could for flowers was being done,
Why did it not uncurl?

It must have felt that fervid call
Although it took no heed,
Waking but now, when leaves like corpses fall,
And saps all retrocede.

Too late its beauty, lonely thing,
The season’s shine is spent,
Nothing remains for it but shivering
In tempests turbulent.

Had it a reason for delay,
Dreaming in witlessness
That for a bloom so delicately gay
Winter would stay its stress?

– I talk as if the thing were born
With sense to work its mind;
Yet it is but one mask of many worn
By the Great Face behind.

19, Chrysanthemum Flowers by Yuan Chen

Autumn clusters surround my house just like Tao Yuanming’s.
I walk full circle round the fence as the sun slowly tilts.
It’s not that I love chrysanthemums more than other flowers,
but that no others will blossom after these blooms wither.

20, Ode To A Chrysanthemum by Robert Lust

Blow loudly on a trumpet
Listen to the mighty drum
We’re here to celebrate
The lovely chrysanthemum.

You are such a versatile flower
You make a marvelous bouquet
Yellow, pink, white your colors
Mix them for a great display.

Sadly, you don’t fit in a verse
A thought that leaves me numb
I wonder if one would notice
If I just called you mum.

→ Read more: White Chrysanthemum Poems

21, A Day With Cherry Blossoms by Jez Burl

A long array
of cherry blossoms
marching in the daylight
are shimmering
in white, pink and fuchsia.

And as they pass
through where I stand,
they stop:
To caress my open palms;
And whisper, “I love you”
while exuding scents
that say, “Forget me not”.

22, Cherry blossoms by Toi Derricotte

I went down to
mingle my breath
with the breath
of the cherry blossoms.

There were photographers:
Mothers arranging their
children against
gnarled old trees;
a couple, hugging,
asks a passerby
to snap them
like that,
so that their love
will always be caught
between two friendships:
ours & the friendship
of the cherry trees.

Oh Cherry,
why can’t my poems
be as beautiful?

A young woman in a fur-trimmed
coat sets a card table
with linens, candles,
a picnic basket & wine.
A father tips
a boy’s wheelchair back
so he can gaze
up at a branched
heaven.
All around us
the blossoms
flurry down
whispering,

Be patient
you have an ancient beauty.

Be patient,
you have an ancient beauty.

23, Cherry blossoms by Linda Winchell

Cherry blossoms on the tree,
Their scent of sweetness is divine.
There are grapes and berries in the woods,
Springing forth upon their vines.

To pick and taste their sweetness,
Is like none you’ve ever known.
Now I don’t remember planting them,
It must be something God has grown.

I best not eat them all at once,
And save a few for you.
My tongue is colored with their juices,
And my fingertips stained of darkest blue.

I have enough in my basket,
So I’ll go make a pie or tart.
And invite you over to share with me,
What was harvested from God’s heart.

24, God’s Cherry Blossom by Agazeley

As I watched the cherry blossom raining down
It formed a pink carpet on the ground
And as the wind tugged blossoms from the tree
I felt sure that God was standing there by me

I turned my head but all I could see
Was another stunning cheery tree
Adding to the sea of swirling flowers
That was testament to Gods amazing powers

But I felt sure that God must be nearby
If not on the ground then perhaps in the sky
On impulse I search the clouds but he wasn’t there
Then suddenly I realized – he was everywhere

The instant it struck me – I couldn’t help but smile
And both God and I – just stood and watched a while
Then as we watched the petals tumbling across the lawn
I realized – God had been with me since the day I was born

And now – whenever I witness a glorious sight
Like sunrise, rainbows or halos around the moon at night
I instinctively know I am not there alone – and I say a prayer
For now God and I enjoy his creations – as a pair

25, Cherry Blossom Blues by Meals

You continue to impress me with your words,
moreover, your heart–
Like the longed roses in my life.
The fact that we are not to talk any more
scares the hell out of me.
Like giving up what’s more than precious…
As cherry blossoms falling.

Being in the clouds seems over.
My feet are back on ground to trod yonder…
A life– Maybe full of strife–
This life
That’s still hoping.

26, The Cherry Blossom by Ever Grateful

walking in a world of barren fields
where crimson evening
heads for a pillow of ashes,
draping tired shoulders
in sheets of metal gray
while posts line up
with flashes of lightning,
as the shutter captures a plant
shrouded in the ink of the pen,
mirroring grainy reflections of salt,

he pictures the morning orange,
dawning on the retina,
as he rolls up the blinds,
gazing upon the pinch
of branching out,
a cherry blossom he sees,
where shoring strands hug the land,
ballerinas dance under the sun,
dressed in steps of spring,
the green grass grows

27, Cherry Blossom Winter by Hereinmyheart

On blooms of cherry blossoms crystals sit
As lovely of a site the snow on flowers,
And all that’s around completely covered.

Nothing left bare, all in sight was covered,
Inside I watch out my window and sit,
And marvel, all I see on these flowers.

On top tall trees now barren from flowers,
To wait a winter’s end, snow all covered,
A squirrel looked around nearby he will sit.
As lovely blooms sit, flowers snow covered

28, Cherry Blossom by Inspired Violin

The cherry blossom
Petals softly hit the ground
Blowing through the wind
Bouncing across the pavement
Next spring they will bloom again

29, The Cherry Blossom Wand by Anna Wickham

I Will pluck from my tree a cherry-blossom wand,
And carry it in my merciless hand,
So I will drive you, so bewitch your eyes,
With a beautiful thing that can never grow wise.

Light are the petals that fall from the bough,
And lighter the love that I offer you now;
In a spring day shall the tale be told
Of the beautiful things that will never grow old.

The blossoms shall fall in the night wind,
And I will leave you so, to be kind:
Eternal in beauty, are short-lived flowers,
Eternal in beauty, these exquisite hours.

I will pluck from my tree a cherry-blossom wand,
And carry it in my merciless hand,
So I will drive you, so bewitch your eyes,
With a beautiful thing that shall never grow wise.

30, Cherry Blossom by Jorge Styles

Short lived, cherry blossom, yet known for its beauty.
Although temporary, it’s beauty leaves an impact
While being we can learn from the cherry blossom
because life is short, we need to find our bloom.

As its life won’t last long, the cherry blossom is
remembered for the short time in bloom,
not the rest of its life developing it’s beauty.
Let us stand out, be a sight to see

And like the cherry blossom, we find our shine.
Let us be remembered for our bloom.

→ Read more: Poems About Pure and Simple Cherry Blossoms

31, The Soul of the Sunflower by Sara Jewett

The warm sun kissed the earth
To consecrate thy birth,
And from his close embrace
Thy radiant face
Sprang into sight,
A blossoming delight.

Through the long summer days
Thy lover’s burning rays
Shone hot upon thy heart.
Thy life was part
Of his desire,
Thou passion-flower of fire!

And, turning toward his love,
Lifting thy head above
The earth that nurtured thee,
Thy majesty
And stately mien
Proclaims thee sun-crowned queen.

On earth, thy gorgeous bloom
Bears record of thy tomb,
And to transcendent light
Thy soul takes flight
Till thou art one,
O sunflower, with the sun!

32, Sunflowers by Lottie Brown Allen

Up from the wayside damp and cold
Cut of the early Kansas mold
Blossomed the sunflowers, green and gold,

Eastward turning at dawn’s first light
Hourly drinking the sunbeams bright
Westward waving a fond goodnight.

Kissed by the sunshine and the dew
Under the Kansas skies of blue
Like unto sunflowers, the children grew.

Bright eyes greeting the sun’s first ray
Small hands eager for work or play
Young hearts singing the livelong day.

Kansas sunflowers happy and free
Men and women that grew to be
Builders of Kansas destiny.

33, Life and Sunflowers by Dragonheart

Life is a sunflower..
it’s beauty is opening our eyes.
Like the sunflower reaching to the sky,
Our dreams are it’s stars within.

Therefore, greet each day with smiles.
Smiles are life’s miracles of love.
With happy attitudes, anything possible but
We have to believe in ourselves and our dreams.

34, The Sunflower Girl by Yellowaliens

Little sunflower girl
Dance in the glow of the sun
In the midst of the stars
And in the middle of the storm
Let your petals dance across universe
Giving light and warmth
To all the darkest places
That have not felt
The immense touch of love

35, Sunflower Eyes by Valerie

Your eyes were like a sunflower
Comparable in beauty
With colors patterned
In the shape and design

Your eyes were like a sunflower
They drew me in
And swallowed me
Down into your heart where I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine

And my eyes were like a sunflower
Just like yours
But different in color
Contracting and eating your existence

This moment I cherish
Because your eyes hold so many secrets and
In that second of gaze connected by a line
I could see them all clearly without rose tint

I’ve taken off my pink hued glasses and
I see the world through clear thin glass
See it for what it is
Through your sunflower eyes

Fingerprints litter the glass
Making it difficult to see through to it’s beauty
Tainted by past hands
Even without the rose applied

Will we ever see the world for what it is?
Maybe
If we look through sunflower eyes

36, Ah! Sunflower by William Blake

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

37, An Ode to the Kansas Sunflower by Ed Blair

Oh sunflower! The queen of all flowers,
No other with you can compare,
The roadside and fields are made golden
Because of your bright presence there.
Above all the weeds that surround you
You raise to the sun your bright head,
Embroidering beautiful landscapes
Your absence would leave brown and dead.

Oh queen of the September morning
You watch for the first ray of sun,
And salute the bright orb as it travels
Till the bright day of autumn is done.
Tho’ sickles may slay in the pasture,
And the plowman destroy in the field,
Yet, still will the corners and by-ways
The seed for the future years yield.

Then, Sunflower, peep over the fences
And cover the hillsides with gold,
And out in the cornfields, if tempted,
Again take thy claim as of old;
Salute, too, and nod to the stranger,
Who travels the dusty highway,
He’ll worship the sun crown you’re wearing
And love you for brightening his way.

So, Sunflower, grow tall in the meadow
And spread to the breezes your arms,
No matter if some do molest you
And try to destroy on the farms,
Let thy stalk all the season still gather
The sunbeams that come dancing by;
And then in September unfold them
To dazzle with splendor the eye.

38, To The Sunflower by Yone Noguchi

Thou burstest from mood:
How sad we have to cling to experience!
Marvel of thy every atom burning of life,
How fully thou livest!
Didst thou ever think to turn to cold and shadow?
Passionate liver of sunlight,
Symbol of youth and pride;
Thou art a lyric of thy soaring colour;
Thy voicelessness of song is action.
What absorption of thy life’s meaning.
Wonder of thy consciousness,—
Mighty sense of thy existence!

39, Sunny Sunflower by Anonymous

Sunflowers all different sizes
Line a garden wall.
Some are short and cheery
Others strong and tall.
Starting as a tiny seed
Growing quickly like a weed.
Whatever size they are, you see,
Each is special
Just like me!

40, Sunflowers by David Wood

Will Gauguin like them in his room?
Even van Gogh said he was mad about
His sunflowers.
Gauguin even painted van Gogh
Painting his sunflowers.

Those sunflowers, the cycle of life.
From those buds to showing maturity.
Then death in its final epitaph not on
A gravestone but on the canvas.
Spiky twisted stems that epitomise

Life in the raw.
Of green sepals and bristling seed heads
That speak of the passion of life.
But Gauguin didn’t stay; van Gogh
Frustration seen in the melting gold flowers.

→ Read more: Beautiful Poems About Sunflowers

41, Hydrangeas by Masaoka Shiki

hydrangeas
pale blue in the rain
blue in the moonlight

42, Blue Hydrangea by Guntram Deichsel

Just like the last green in a colour pot
So are these leaves, withered and wrecked
Behind the flower umbels, which reflect
A hue of blue only, more they do not.

Reflections are tear-stained, inaccurate,
As if they were about to cease,
And like old blue notepaper sheets
They wear some yellow, grey and violet,

Washed-out like on a children’s apron,
Outworn and now no more in use:
We contemplate a small life’s short duration.

But suddenly some new blue seemingly is seen
In just one umbel, and we muse
Over a moving blue delighting in the green.

43, Pink Hydrangeas by C Richard Miles

Pale pink hydrangeas cheered up drain-grey city streets
This morning as I, tired, trudged grudgingly to work,
A blob of brightness, that a laughing abstract artist
Daubed on his pallid canvas to provoke some puzzlement
Amongst the casual weekend-wasting gallery goers
But, like the impish impressionist’s intent to catch the eye
And impel the absent-minded passerby to pause,
Those garish bracts bewitched my once-distracted gaze
To glimpse the other pinks that hid, apologetically,
Beside the drab-stone, slab-stone, flagstone pavement
And, as shy roses, wilful willow-herb and brazen buddleia
Emerged to lilt their pastel-petalled counterpoint
Beneath the humdrum drumbeat of a London morning,
My tiresome trudge to work became a waltz
Amongst the hidden floral harmonies of urban life.

44, Blue Hydrangeas by Richard Sime

I’m not the guy you’d want to live with.
Take small talk—I’m no good, and when
you told me your hydrangeas bloomed
(puffs of powder blue outside the door)
I could barely nod, much less smile.
Take smiles—they seem so natural,
even my dog smiles, but me, I need
reminding that it’s time to get
those muscles working right. As for work—
I want things done, but when I’m pushed
I get exhausted before I try.
Although, I did try. Lord, didn’t I?

I’d like some grace: Take things in stride.
Like entering a room and if, say,
my shirt comes loose (the turquoise one
that reminds you of my eyes), I want
to slip it back beneath my belt with a wink
that says I can’t seem to keep myself together
and you’d know I was lying. In fact, I’d speak
all lies, beneath each one a truth you’d
recognize. My frown, a smile. The tilt
of my head, what words could never say.
Like those hydrangeas. Without you, no
blooms this year. And they’re hardly missed.

45, Hydrangea by Pierre Joseph Redouté

He called hydrangeas purple. And they were.
Not fixed and deadly, (like a curving line
That merely makes a ring).
It was a purple changeable to see.
And so hydrangeas came to be.

46, Blue Hydrangea by Edward Hirsch

Mop-headed transplant from late summer,
hydrangea macrophylla, blue wave,
you were colorless when I brought you home,
as if the ocean had travelled a great distance
and washedout in your veins

47, Hydrangeas by Keith Wilson

The Hydrangeas bushes
I see from my window
are a vivid blue color
Hot and humid today
so they do stand out

By the way
some Hydrangeas
are pink
The colors seem to come
from different soil conditions

48, Hydrangeas by Zita Nonie Hasenkamp

In the place of your kin I found you,
In the meadow left out to dry
Your porcelain face,
Glazed in white, glassy blood.
No carmine kiss had spoilt it
On the eve of its last breath,
But the flood, the flush
Of bluish-purple life-fluids
Decaying within your chest.

Hydrangeas will grow from the tears you wept,
And the crows will carry off the bones you left.
Is it best for your love to run out,
Rather than be caressed by death?

49, Hydrangeas by Em

like hydrangeas,
you must allow yourself to bleed.
to fade from one truth
to another like from
blue to purple to pink.

50, Hydrangea by Gracie

Perhaps we never truly met
until I heard your voice of flowers
spill hydrangeas across the carpet
of my bedroom at 3 am.

Those whispers of nothingness
that smell oh so sweetly in the night
begin to wither away as sunrise creeps in
through the window I forgot to close tight.

→ Read more: Poems About Hydrangea Flowers

51, The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart by W.B. Yeats

All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

52, Nightstand with Roses by Jody Zorgdrager

They weren’t red nor was I angry,
but with something five shades lighter
than passion, I plucked the roses bald.

Anyway, they were sorry things.
Their nodding heads on such long stems
reminded me how tiring it is,

always trying to forgive.
And besides, I did it gently, pulling petals
the way one tugs off an insect’s wings,

by twos. What my thumb and fingertips
began to hear—yes, they listened for it—
was the shaggy center’s thick dribble,

the tiny rip of dismemberment,
and, in between, the moment of small panic
that comes before—as just before withdrawing

a mouth from another mouth there comes
that in-suck, that sudden taking back although
you’ve already given it up, given up

to it—the letting go. I couldn’t stop
until I had the whole drawer full
of floating pink on pink.

53, A Rose by Emily Dickinson

A sepal, petal, and a thorn
Upon a common summer’s morn,
A flash of dew, a bee or two,
A breeze
A caper in the trees, —
And I’m a rose!

54, Petals by Amos Russel Wells

The shattered rose has fallen to the floor
In shelly loveliness. The carpet’s green
Forms a new turf, and in that lower scene
Each petal blossoms as a flower once more.
How light it lies as having wings to soar,
A curve of pink! And how its gentle mien,
The soft, rich fulness of its tender sheen,
Surpass the clustered rose we knew before!
Oh, not in labor’s summer-bloom of pride
Does life its crowning loveliness disclose.
Sweeter the lights in autumn days that hide,
And tender age a morning beauty shows.
Scatter life’s broken petals far and wide:
Each is a newer and a lovelier rose.

55, The Presence of the Rose by Angela Morgan

From out imprisoning petals—velvet, red—
Thy soul slips forth in fragrance wondrous sweet—
A silent subtle presence—never fled,
That makes thy mastery over me complete.

How can I doubt God and eternal things
When I look on thy beauty—lovely rose?
A sudden certainty within me springs—
The very gates of Heaven to me unclose!

Hast thou, then, waited all this weary time
From tiny bud to fullest crimson bloom—
With hope and patience wondrously sublime
Through dismal, dreary months of cold and gloom?

Hast waited for my sake—heroic flower—
That this great secret—hidden close with thee—
Should in the sacred silence of this hour
Be all unfolded and revealed to me?

56, In The Storm Of Roses by Ingeborg Bachmann

Wherever we turn in the storm of roses,
the night is lit up by thorns, and the thunder
of leaves, once so quiet within the bushes,
rumbling at our heels.

57, Roses by George Eliot

You love the roses – so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light
As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be
Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!

58, Time of Roses by Thomas Hood

It was not in the Winter
Our loving lot was cast;
It was the time of roses—
We pluck’d them as we pass’d!

That churlish season never frown’d
On early lovers yet:
O no—the world was newly crown’d
With flowers when first we met!

‘Twas twilight, and I bade you go,
But still you held me fast;
It was the time of roses—
We pluck’d them as we pass’d!

59, My Rose by Emily Dickinson

Pigmy seraphs gone astray,
Velvet people from Vevay,
Belles from some lost summer day,
Bees’ exclusive coterie.
Paris could not lay the fold
Belted down with emerald;
Venice could not show a cheek
Of a tint so lustrous meek.
Never such an ambuscade
As of brier and leaf displayed
For my little damask maid.
I had rather wear her grace
Than an earl’s distinguished face;
I had rather dwell like her
Than be Duke of Exeter
Royalty enough for me
To subdue the bumble-bee!

60, A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

→ Read more: Classic & Contemporary Poems About Roses

61, The Sea Lavender by William Burford

i

It grows at the world’s edge
Blown by the thin air
But holding, rooted there
In its swept and else
Barren element.

Its lavender bloom,
And gray leaf’s hue,
Make it a thing fair
That keeps that place,
That desolation
With secret gladness.

ii

Inside, in the crystal bowl,
All winter its resonant shadow
Like ocean shone;
Flashed and darkened
Beneath its branches
Like a living creature.

62, Lavender Seas by Saiom Shriver

Violet lavender
meadow seas
by Cornwall’s
blue and
whiteflecked seas

63, Rainbow Lavender Tale by Maria Sudibyo

say you love me
don’t wait to hold me
I know you feel me
like rainbow lavender

say you stay with me
don’t leave without me
I want you need me
like rainbow lavender

say when you are sad
don’t hide your tears
say when you are mad
don’t turn your face

you say it’s not fair
but then you kiss me
you say it’s end
but then you steal again

you say don’t care
but you run back to me
my eyes cheat me
for rainbow lavender

say we have chance
don’t say everyone tells
we are drunk a fairy tale
of rainbow lavender

64, Lavender Farm Trip by Marilyn Lott

Our trip to the Lavender farm
Was nothing if not astounding
The Lavender plants were beautiful
And also the flowers surrounding

We were able to buy the products
Made from the Lavender flowers
All wrapped in pretty Lavender paper
We could have looked at them for hours

Then we strolled out to the pond
It was really beautiful and so serene
I wanted to take pictures
Of everything I’d seen

The bees were buzzin’ ‘round
Drinking the nectar so very sweet
They felt the way that we did
The farm flowers were such a treat

So come to see this special place
They might even give you a little snip
To take home with you, my friend
As you enjoy your Lavender Farm Trip!

65, Lavender Azalea by Marilyn Lott

It is a spring time beauty
Sitting ‘long side his friend
The red Rhododendron
Yes, it’s an annual trend.

I’m talking about my Azalea
His lavender coat so fine
The blossoms are glorious
In my garden it really shines.

66, Lavender Garden by Rebecca Navarre

Walking through my lavender garden.
Time sets, and pardons. Life softens,
and unhardens. Blue cascading, rivers
flow. Flowers blossom and grow. Birds
sing love songs, whispering soft, and
low. Where dreams live, and suns set
slow. And awaken, in the nights glow.

67, Lavender Scent by David Harris

There are days when we
have our mind’s eye set
on things needing to be done,
and then the lavender scent
of other dreams catapults us
into the world of distractions.
Jumping from one thing
and then on to another.
Eventually we end up in a hollow world
never getting anything done.

68, First Lavender III by Jemverse

We’ve not been to our allotment
Covid-19’s seen to that
But Emily our daughter
has been keeping it intact
We’re seeing lots of pictures
which she takes from time to time
and I’m pleased to say as ever
that it’s looking mighty fine

But no substitute the pictures
for actually being there
and by that we’re disappointed
as the work we’d like to share
But in spite of that of course
the allotment keeps on growing
and Emily, bless her heart
continues with the sowing

So imagine my delight
when today she brought a gift
Something from our allotment
my spirits for to lift
First lavender in its glory
fragrant, wonderful, sublime
With the promise of abundance
when it’s lavender picking time

69, Lavender by Rose Heart

Ah Lavender, Angels descend
My heart opens up
into the essence of life

A breath: fresh, floral notes
Awakens my Soul
I am calm & centered

I wave my aromactic wand
I wave it up to the Heavens
Blissful renewal of indigo Blue

70, Lavender Twilight by Melanie Bishop

Lavender Twilight
lavender twilight
birds seeking their rest on high
musically sighing

soft murmurs so sweet
fill the evenings late hours
quiet now at rest

heads tucked under wings
little souls now full of peace
waiting for the dawn

→ Read more: Best Poems About Lavender

71, The Lotus by Ryokan

First blooming in the Western Paradise,
The lotus has delighted us for ages.
Its white petals are covered with dew,
its jade green leaves spread out over the pond,
And its pure fragrance perfumes the wind.
Cool and majestic, it raises from the murky water.
The sun sets behind the mountains
But I remain in the darkness, too captivated to leave.

72, Lotus Eaters by Tristan

city full of lotus eaters
sleeping in peaceful apathy;
a life with no reality

dancing in the wind
with a slowly fading mind
drowning in the bliss

sunlight beating down
creating dark shadows on the ground
they move all around

city full of silence
whispers unheard in the distance
surviving by ignorance

they eat their lotus flowers
drifting hour by hour
nothing but a blank stare
is anything even there

73, Lotus Flower by Leah Marie

I was the sun,
You were the rain.
Our lotus flower bloomed,

Thriving with life,
Screaming in color.
We had the perfect flower.

But lack of rain,
And overwhelming sun-
Our flower died of thirst.

It was beautiful;
We were beautiful.

74, The Lotus Flower by Vernell Allen

A daunting sky releases the moon’s glow
on the shy lotus sprouting from
the cave’s hollow splint.

The wind bullies her fragile frame
but she stands unbreakable.
She is unwavering and fearless.

The showering rain chills her spine,
but the lotus is numb to its touch.
It will not control her fore she has learned

to weather the storm.
So she smiled and danced in the rain
and the moon envied the lotus flower
of the night.

75, Lotus by Grace Nazaret Cejo

In the midst of darkness,
There shines a bright full moon,
I can see you shimmering,
You’re the only flower of all the leaves
You are the only color when everything’s black
When you’re gone,
I want you back.

You are the lotus of my life,
Lucky charm I call you,
For you make me happy
When I’m blue.

Bloom for me my lotus
My heart is in focus
I’m in love with you
A treasure in my palm
Luckiest I am.

76, Lotus by Christy Pavoncello

In our first kiss,
Surrounded by darkness,
Except the light in your eyes
I must have tasted a trace
Of a lotus flower upon your lips
That flower which takes all thoughts of home
And transfers them to the place
Tainted by the bloom –
Since that first timid kiss,
Leading to so many others
I cannot think of a place
I would rather be
Than in your arms
To taste that kiss
Sweetened by the lotus
Like tea by a drop of honey
Seemingly, just for me.

77, Lotus by Rabindranath Tagore

On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying,
and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.

Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.

That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to
me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.

I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this
perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.

78, The Lotus by Classics

First blooming in the Western Paradise,
The lotus has delighted us for ages.
Its white petals are covered with dew,
its jade green leaves spread out over the pond,
And its pure fragrance perfumes the wind.
Cool and majestic, it raises from the murky water.
The sun sets behind the mountains
But I remain in the darkness, too captivated to leave.

79, Lotus by Marian

The lotus floating on the cool mountain stream,
A swirl of light pink,
The water around it seemed to gleam;
A lotus that floats and never sinks!

The other flowers around you aren’t quite so pretty,
You’re so pretty and pure,
No other flower I admire so much you’re the only I see;
Left with me, you pretty dear of that I am sure!

You’re quite my treasure,
I love to see you floating on your creek,
Seeing you is my delightful pleasure;
Your beauty I admire and seek.

You float onward on your stream,
And I lay here in my bed asleep,
I quickly awaken from my dream;
I feel so sad that this wasn’t real I feel like I could weep.

80, Lotus by Jenni Littzi

You can burn each thorn
And pick off every petal
I will get through the storm
No matter the kind of weather

I admit, you got the best of me
But it’s not over, you see
I will rise towards the sky
Like a lotus wins its fight
I will not be denied the light
Like the lotus, I will survive

I thought you had me buried
Instead, I was growing steady
The mud could not beat my soul
Which means, I finally let go

I admit, you got the best of me
But it’s not over, you see
I will rise towards the sky
Like a lotus wins its fight
I will not be denied the light
Like the lotus, I will survive

I made the past look picture perfect
But it was just one act, here’s to what’s next

I admit, you got the best of me
But it’s not over, you see
I will rise towards the sky
Like a lotus wins its fight
I will not be denied the light
Like the lotus, I will survive

→ Read more: Best Poems About Lotus Flower

81, Dandelion Oh Dandelion by Star BG

With puff of breath
entwined with a wish
my energetic breath aims out.

Out toward dandelion.
And like sacred flying fairies
the little seeds take flight.

Ready to plant firmly
in break of day.

Thank you dandelion
for roaring with airs whisper
to move in grace
to go into Mothers soil
and bring a dream to sprout.

82, Dandelion by Amy Perry

I am the breath you exhale
That sends dandelion seeds asail.
To you, a momentary pleasure,
While it gives my life new measure.
You’ve plucked me from home,
Blew me into the unknown.
I might be a seed under your boot,
My existence could seem moot.
But next summer, when you’ve lost incentive
In momentary pleasures, no longer attentive,
I’ll be in full bloom.
Pick me up, I’ll rebound again soon.

83, Dandelion Love by Bails B

A young princess stoops,
plucking a dandelion from the earth.
She smiles, twirling it between her fingers,
soon bringing the dandelion close to her lips.
Her message, she whispers to the tiny seeds.
Softly as can be she blows on the dandelion,
sending the cotton-white fluff
soaring into the cool breeze,
carrying her words, spreading her love
down on the citizens in her kingdom.

84, Wild Dandelion by Kerri

A lump of eminence
Swells in her throat,
But she swallows it down
Flashing a shiny, humble smile.
This wild dandelion grows in the sun
and dances to the beat of the wind,
Scattering seeds of peace
And songs of love
In every corner of the world.
She floats among the stars
Crashing perfectly into
Every illustrious constellation.
As she shakes the stardust from her hair
And dusts her glitter-speckled shoulders,
She reaps the benefit
Of her selfless, meaningful offerings.

85, Dandelion Kisses by Taiga Rawr

Dandelion kisses
Blown away by the wind.
The feathery seeds left me;
In which way have I sinned?

I don’t deserve these broken shards
Embedded in my heart.
Was it truly a lie when you told me
“‘Till death do us part”?

I feel most betrayed because
I’m lying to myself.
Are they just mere myths of inexistent
Romance like the Elf on the Shelf?

I write from inexperience;
I call them ‘true lies’.
I’ve never a dandelion kiss,
Just slight contact of the eyes.

There are no cuts in my heart,
Just plain jealousy.
My pure white wedding was only
A dream replayed endlessly.

So I’ll tell you this:
They say that writing is expressive;
But though my words are dishonest
I have to say, they’re quite impressive.

86, Dandelion by Alice

oh dandelion,
my dandelion
the wind carried your seeds
though i never wished
for them to land upon me
how many then, has it been?
how many times have we thrown
our cares to the wind?
with arms wrapped ’round my waist
i look to the mirror
to the wonders i must face
how can you know
when the wind steals your seeds
if they ever did grow?

87, Love Is Like Dandelions by Sonny Rainshine

Love is like dandelions,
profligate and common.
But have you ever picked up
a dandelion and looked beyond
its reputation?

Worn-out words,
pretty yellow weeds.
Love is boundless;
Language is limited.

88, Dandelion by Randy McClave

In my garden there was a dandelion
I plucked it from where it did grow
Like a child I was amazed by its mystery
So then upon it, I gently did blow,
I made a wish as I did when I was young
As the seedlings had taken to the air
The thought brought me back when I was a youth
And for a moment once again, I was there,
Hundreds of her seeds then hit the breeze
As they floated and began their wandering
It was an odyssey that was created by myself
But where would they go, I started pondering,
Some took to the breeze to continue their trek
And some floated slowing to the ground
While some went sailing out of my sight
That moment for me was quite profound,
In my garden all my dandelions are now gone
Their seedlings have been taken up in the wind
Each one I released with a wish and a breath
Freedom and a new awakening to all I did send,
The seedlings soon will find themselves a new home
Upon a yard they will land and will lie still
Now what once was mystery and an odyssey to me
Will now become a reality, as a yellow daffodil.

89, Dandelion Magic by Lamar Cole

Dandelion drifts on the wind.
Cool breezes touch sweetheart’s skin.
Tall grass looking so green.
Mountain air smelling so clean.

Fir trees standing so tall.
Wild geese flying above it all.
Wild horses running free.
Sweetheart’s love is as sweet as honey from a bee.

90, The Dandelion by Vachel Lindsay

O dandelion, rich and haughty,
King of village flowers!
Each day is coronation time,
You have no humble hours.
I like to see you bring a troop
To beat the blue-grass spears,
To scorn the lawn-mower that would be
Like fate’s triumphant shears,
Your yellow heads are cut away,
It seems your reign is o’er.
By noon you raise a sea of stars
More golden than before.

→ Read more: Poems About Dandelion Flowers

91, My Lily Flower by Martín Antonío

My Lily flower,
you are beautiful
and you have
yet not blossomed.

My Lily flower,
I water your soul,
in hope that you grow
without a single problem.

My Lily flower,
one day you
will blossom
and be the
most beautiful
flower in my garden.

My Lily flower,
I hope that you
know i think of
you for hours.

you eliminate
my pain
and awaken
a smile
on my face
my Lily flower.

92, Lily by Elizabeth Foley

Lily was a pretty girl
With eyes a shining blue
And copper hair, much like the sun,
With an infectious smile, too

Top of her class in college
Men would stare as she walked by
And when her friends laughed at her jokes
No one could hear her sigh

Imitation was her flattery
Everyone knew her name
And of course it was no party
Unless beloved Lily came

Her family was perfect
Fully virtuous through and through
Making generous donations
To match each of Lily’s red-backed shoes

So each day she returned from school,
To her mansion of a home,
Ignored the pestering phone calls
And sat quietly, all alone

Til one day Lily returned
Placing a note upon the shelf
Quietly grabbed her father’s gun
And loudly killed herself

93, The Lily by William Blake

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat’ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

94, The Lilies Whisper Poetry by Deborah Amar

A summer day can never end
Or so it seems each year
The longer cycles of the sun
Make cloudy skies seem clear

Each time the wind begins to chime,
And end begins to near
A whisper of the softest sort
Flows gently to the ear

The scent and sight enough are great
Yet lilies live for more
The lilies whisper poetry
As none have heard before

The lilies whisper to the day
That sends the breeze below
It touches ground that none can see
Where lilies lively grow

Beautifully arrayed in white
And drinking from the soil
Free to whisper their poetry
Without the need to toil

But flowers do not last the year
And newer buds must bloom
So short the span of lily life
To give new blossoms room

The lilies whisper poetry
That none shall ever know
For just as summer cannot last
The lilies cease to grow

But beauty lives from that which dies
And leaves something to last
For lilies whisper poetry
For lilies of the past

95, Sea Lily Poetry by Hilda Doolittle

Reed,
slashed and torn,
but doubly rich?
such great heads as yours
drift upon temple-steps,
but you are shattered
in the wind.

Myrtle-bark
is flecked from you,
scales are dashed
from your stem,
sand cuts your petal,
furrows it with hard edge,
like flint
on a bright stone.

Yet though the whole wind
slash at your bark,
you are lifted up,
aye?though it hiss
to cover you with froth

96, Lily by Phil Soar

She was broken from the moment that he left her
She had watched as every piece of him left home
And nursing him through months of pain she listened
As his final breath meant she was now alone

Rejecting heart felt sympathy from others
She chose to stop and lose the will to live
Avoiding everyone and those who loved her
She felt that she had nothing else to give

And now alone she seeks out isolation
Denying friendship, fading every day
Until one day her world will fall around her
By then she will have driven all away.

97, Beauty Of A Lily by Paul Sebastian

Like an unwavering Carla lily
Majestic, you are valley’s beauty
Stand tall, strong, dressing purity
Poets dream of your wonder and mystery

98, Spring Lily by Lamar Cole

Out in the garden for all to see.
Is the bloom of the Spring Lily.
Catching the rays of the sun.
Anticipating summer and all its fun.

Beautiful is this lily with a radiant glow.
As water from the birdbath flows.
Sweet scent blowing in the wind.
One of the sweetest flowers that nature sends.

99, Lily by Edward Kofi Louis

The inspiration of love and the hope of your dreams,
And of my poems to mankind to gain wisdom;
But you are my lover behind the veil.
Life today is like,
The government of the people and by the people;
And in this last generation to look for a lover,
But the scriptures are there to guide us all.
Your name is Lily and i love you,
And like the promises made all over the world!
But you are my lover behind the veil.

100, Autumn Lily by Gajanan Mishra

Let me request you
To show me
The path of peace.
I know, autumn lily,
You are wise
And good.
I know, you are
The path of wisdom
In this autumn.
You are the symbol
Of purity, I know,
Autumn lily.
You said-the obstacle
Of existence is life.

→ Read more: Poems About Lily Flowers