i have asked but
it remains unclear
if it was planted
purposefully
by somebody
for some reason
unknown to the rest
or merely discarded
within a pile of
offcuts and waste
following a frenzy
of gardening chores
regardless of
whether it was
intended or not
it has taken root
it has bloomed
bright and proud
brilliant cherry red
against dandelion yellow
and uncut-grass green
one solitary red tulip
amongst the weeds

A drop of snow on the face of the sun
a stone throw from the rainbow
fondly close over the tulip colour stroke
next to the Snow White's looking mirror?

What a sniff it gotten on the way?
Turquoise butterfly is on the fly
up on the top floor is lapis lazuli sky.
Did it not only deduce the hunger pang
time is on the run took the breath away
even forgot the death maybe an inch away!

today, you may be a closed tulip. but as the minutes roll by, you will slowly blossom. the wind will kiss your petals, and the rain will startle you. the sun will warm you up, and the bees will seek you as a resting place. through it all, you will stretch your leaves toward the sky, and your seeds will sprout. you will brighten days, and you will continue the circle of life.

In a field of red roses by the lake,
A white rose calls up to the sun
With her beautiful petal scarf
And her cheerful smile
Over another field, a tulip stands sad
He is one in the crowd, no one special
“Smart,” some say, “too shy” others may
But he struggles, moving his cheek

The tulip looks at the ethereal rose every day
Wondering how such a flower grew from the floor
An angel’s tears of joy, he might think
A kiss from Gaia, he would have hoped

Tulip doesn’t know much of the rose
And fears never being able to embrace her
He feels that both have too much in common
But his inner parasites would hurt her
For a majestic rose that dances with the moon in the water
Such normal tulip will never have a chance
Her perfect stem is made of silk
His is damaged and made of paper

Still, the tulip dreams
Wishing one day to fly, as his roots would rip
Detaching from the floor, from his forlorn life
Flying towards the star reflected in the lake, where his solitude would end

The white rose doesn’t realize, still
How much he admires her strength, cleverness, and beauty
Until the tulip sends his seeds of love
In the form of this poem and painting

For a more radiant future he fights
Forever aligned with the Astraea of his heart
Because she glows in the night
Inspiring him to be better
And even if the rose doesn’t recognize the tulip
She should know that he is right there
In an everyday battle to talk to her
He is smart and shy, but eager to give all his petals to see her smiling for him

Pale-faced beneath twilight’s awning, shadowed time skips
A beat measured in dust motes and attic silence;

Frameless ether holds its breath and portrait likenesses
Swivel eyes right, suspended between the minute and the hour;

In sequence, Whittington’s chiming sepia tones wring out
A tulip of port and one last cigar from drapery long hung;

As floral meanders unwind from a walnut casing
Inlayed with the gamine whimsies of our cherried youth.

I am a flower
all of you must know?
Not really famous you see,
the rose stole that place.
Am I not a flower with beauty ?
Rose comes with thorns I come sin free .
Then why am I not used by lovers to express their glee?
Lately as I grew in the meadow,
all my followers questioned me .
They say they made me leader,
to defeat roses ,our worst enemy.
I tried so hard to make them believe
that we can live together through our friend ,humanity.
But they were all against it
and trampled me on the ground.
Like 'The Patriot' the years of hard work drowned.
I was their leader
I wanted to stand for the right .
and my friend 'the rose'
helped me sitting by my bedside.
We were both of the same ideals
both of us were thrown out.
Well now we tended to each other
as our days whisked by.
The devil flowed into their petals
we can't do a thing .
but I wish we could
I wish the roses and tulips could be friends
till time's end.
Gunnika mehra

She was a vibrant rose
And he was a  beautiful tulip

but the rose had thorns
piercing deeply into my skin
Her words and actions broke me to pieces

while the blood gushed
the tulip wrapped his arms
healing the wound from a waterfall of blood

both were beautiful but one was deadly