And In Their Buds The Flowers Hide
And in their buds the flowers hide
The beauty of the future
So my grief:
It hides in it
The future of beauty.
When The Early Buds In Spring Begin Opening (Persian / Rubiyat Quatrain)
When the early buds in spring begin opening
and each bird a song of joy does sing
I see the sunshine in your golden eyes
and to me your love does great happiness bring.
crocus buds burst forth
peep and poke through dunes of white
winter bows to spring
when the sun begins to shine again
life's vital truths made clear at road's end
Worm eaten buds
A coach is who is unfit to play in the field.
A director is who is unfit to act on the stage.
An advisor is who is unfit to execute the advice.
So is a lover, who is unfit to seduce the beloved.
All sprouts of love are worm eaten buds
My buds of love
Babe my love for you is all-out
I need you so I want to shout
I want you so I want to tout
I miss you like bliss please don't pout
I want to kiss you please don't flout
Don't make me rubbish like a lout
Without you my life is like drought
Please help my buds of love to sprout
Spring Brings Fresh Buds
This process has been continuous.
There is no stopping it.
I just take time to let some out.
But that act alone does not deflat it.
Whatever leaves is instantly replaced.
Much like the air is needed,
For one to breathe.
Much like a tree that grows leaves again...
After Autumn takes them.
And snow comes to sit on limbs.
But not for long.
Spring brings fresh buds.
For The Buds That Bloom
for the buds that bloom
for the flowers that show the
biggest petals and the sweetest scent
for those that keep on holding the dew
and for those who enjoy even the slightest moment
of my appreciation and praise
all for the glory of God
even for the slightest moment
and then wilt and die
in an instant
like the click of the hand
or the ticking of the clock for a second or two
i have learned a lot. i have opened. i have kept the answers. i am ready
for the next question that God may ask of me.
even for the shortest moment of my life.
Song : "For Me the Jasmine Buds Unfold"
For me the jasmine buds unfold
And silver daisies star the lea,
The crocus hoards the sunset gold,
And the wild rose breathes for me.
I feel the sap through the bough returning,
I share the skylark's transport fine,
I know the fountain's wayward yearning,
I love, and the world is mine!
I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved,
Still well remembered, grieve not me;
From all that darkened and deceived
Upsoars my spirit free.
For soft the hours repeat one story,
Sings the sea one strain divine;
My clouds arise all flushed with glory,—
I love, and the world is mine!
Heap Cassia, Sandal-Buds and Stripes
Heap Cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island-gain.
And strew faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud
Which breaks to dust when once unrolled;
Or shredded perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vowed,
With mothed and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering her lute and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young.
Frozen buds are born into the world of blood and hate
They fall day by day
Caught up in the storm of rages.
Young lives are wrecked
Childhood is turned into cold hate
Guns are thrust into small hands
Innocent tears run down dusty cheeks
The tears of a newborn child run into rivers of blood.
They are forced to hate
Forced to kill
Forced to sacrifice their life for something they do not understand.
Many childhood years were cut short.
Their childhood was frozen
Wrecked from the start of their lives.
Innocence to anger
Toys to guns
Guns to kill
They do not deserve this life.
Where is human kindness?
Frozen buds live to drown in a never ending hate which was never theirs.
Flower Buds-Skylar's Story
'I live sometimes on the Bitter Edge
and peer out,
stretching my arms;
I'll never really jump
the abyss below
retreating from the Leap
that quiet me,
I live sometimes and sip
because I have become used to it;
It's my familiar brew.
I am sometimes all alone;
its part of my identify now.
I wonder tremblingly
how I can re-trace
back to what
called my Old Happy Self.
The Edge is pain.
I understand it's so;
so pain now seems stronger
than that scant happiness in my past.
This war rages;
Edgeness and Past Happiness
both ooze into my consciousness
at odd hours.
I feel them in the 3am Struggle Hour
where Edge makes the surge
and Happiness cowers
where Happiness sometimes
surging Edge demons
who sulk and retreat
next night to be
again in the Warring Mix.
So I will sit here metaphorically
and see the blood
dripping into that crimson abyss
that so attracts me.
Is it fear that grips you;
that prevents you from
backing away from the Edge
that harms you.?
Where are you in the War For Your Soul?
You are the third factor
which could prove decisive.
You are not the Edge or the Happiness;
you are the human who can direct
the ebb and flow.
You are the Captain of your own Soul
not the cork floating.
suppress the urge to cowardice
I really prefer to stand on
a Happy Path;
because you know
you will not
find Light in Darkness.
Dark is a branch-less tree
in a waterless sea;
it has no roots;
its a single barren pole
silhouetted against gray sky;
but add just a little light beam
and flower buds peek out
their little heads
and ask which direction to high sky;
don't tell them to go back down
to Dark Ground
they are buds
and they need light.
So do you.
Do this over and over again
til one day
you'll be Dark only sometimes;
but most times
you'll learn to walk in the Light,
little flower buds
at your feet.
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.
Not all the buds on a bush will blossom.
Mars Needs Moms [Best Buds]
Cast: Dan Fogler, Seth Green, Elisabeth Harnois
my heart jumps
with the myriad buds
Peach buds swelling
of golden harvest.
Sight Scent Flame Buds
pale satin white crimson
early spring wind
a symphony of cherry buds
on the tree
I Can't wait
in the plum garden
oh, I can't wait
for the bloom.
A brier rose whose buds yield fragrant harvest for the honey bee.