I Talk With Flowers.

[meenas17]

Revision.

Sitting in my porch
overlooking the lawn
I, as a school girl.
used to spend my evening
just gazing at the flowerbed.

The roses were sparse
small in size, more like a bud
with their tips of yellow
red and orange
flames.

The sunflower behind it
brandished a golden yellow
the orange sunset at the back
melting into a red ground.

The jasmines
sprouting up not very high
displayed a spread of white
exuding a fragrance that filled the air.


The basil was green
thick as a tuft
a strange sanctity
carried in its bearing.

I talked to each one of them
some turning brown at the edges
of their petals, as singed
tissue.

My heart went out to them
I felt close to them all the more
than with anyone around.








Sitting in my porch
overlooking the lawn
I, as a school girl.
used to spend my evening
just gazing at the flowerbeds.

The roses were sparse
small in size,more like a bud
colourful in their hue
stood majestic among the rest.

The sunflower big and bright
brandished a yellow glow
contrasted the sunset
being a combination of red and orange.

There were the local jasmines
sprouting up not very high
displayed a spread of white
exuding a fragrance that filled the air.

Besides, I saw the basil
green and thick as a tuft
significant in their bearing
delivering a sanctity peculiar to them.

I talked to each one of them.
My heart went out to them
while I found a nearness to them too well
greater than I reached any human.

[FranktheFrank]

Nice poem Meena, maybe in the present tense, present active.

I sit on the porch
overlooking the flower beds . . .

[Michael (MV)]

 
Hi meenas17,


Wordsworth's poem surfaces https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/daffodils




Michael (MV)

 

 

 

 
 

[meenas17]

Thanks, Frank.
I will switch over to present active.

Meena.

[meenas17]

Thanks, Michael.
Wordsworth's Daffodils is a masterpiece.


Meena.

[Bernie01]

M---

good job, but could you expose the reader to a deeper emotion, a savage image? the core for me is the poet on the garden edge, alone.


how about sex?

I bathe in the redened rose.
Tulips force my legs,

I succumb to the flower bed.
Basil tells me something dirty.


you see my devious thunking.....


but good to find your poem.



bernie