"boquet" poems
I'm growing a rose bush.
It needs tending everyday.
The task isn't easy,
But the flowers will be worth it.
Your smile starts the budding.
Laughter makes them blossom.
Thorns are only present
Because my love is unrequited.
My rosebush has lavender petals.
I'll make you a boquet.
You planted this bulb within me,
Because "love at first sight" is the color's meaning.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
2nd Helping
well now I've gone and gorged myself
I've devoured every morsel I could find,
but still I have this empty feeling
have I gone completely out of mind
it seems I just can't get enough
I'm needing more and more each day,
taking in all of your natural gifts
constant searching for another way
you reach out to touch my soul
the fragrance of your sweetness I inhale,
a new boquet of lovely wild flowers
intoxicating like an english ale
so I cannot leave this still empty heart
I must return to the red velvet rope,
back once more for a 2nd helping
where you will fill me again I hope
I think that I might be in a vicious circle
cause I admit I do not want this to ever end,
not only are you this special lover
even more you are this special friend
so when I said before that I was hungry
it is for you that my hunger stays,
I want to bring you never ending pleasure
so many many times so many many ways
Gomer LePoet...
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
Do you know what happens
When two worlds collide?
It's like a churn of eggs and beer
In a gastronomic ride.
At first it could be delicious
That it takes you all the way
To a taste of hershey's kisses
Or a scent of red boquet.
You'll wish that it remain like this
And believe it to be true
That there's no moment you would want to miss
And you've figured out all clue.
But then the waves go tossing
And the sweet and sour will blend
To a bitter flavor toxicating
Two hearts to a drunken end.
The tearing and the swearing
Could make you realize
That the biggest toll of loving
Is making it real in your eyes.
So what's left is a rancid vapor
From two hearts both left for dead
That will free all pain and horror
From the lips they're left unsaid.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
Did you see them take the green fields
one by one, now line by line on hills in echelon?
Still, holding ground held holy by their sons;
no longer marching to the smoke and drum.
Where bugler called the day to final rest,
now silence grows like lichen on the stones.
For those who gave their all at our behest,
our memories alone will not atone.
Do you see the fires burning at a distance,
and more hallowed ground broken day by day?
Each new stone laid a fading reminiscence;
each new boquet soon fading into gray.
What better way to honor sacrifice
than to pause and speak their names aloud.
Until the gods of war are pacified;
until our flag no longer serves as shroud.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
a flower in her hand ,
colours in her writing fall gently from her hand ...
blossoms in her prose writing of things that she knows...
a rose she will say, in words that display,
a fine mind as words pour.in torrents like a waterfall ,
a boquet begun lillies and sun flowers
hung in writings of love passion for this art..
the words that say "how was your day ?
"dressed in fine display ..
a fine hand that say "this is for you "
if tears it does bring then my words
to impart have reached your beating heart
the words become flowers written
from the hand of magic it imparts .
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
I once read in the language of flowers
That blue rose means overcoming the impossible
In nature, there's no such thing as blue color
According to the various scientific facts I once read
Yet despite the fact that blue roses never existed in nature,
I keep my hopes that someday it will happen
It is also my deepest desire to someday overcome the things
That I deemed impossible for me
As I am an avid dreamer sharing a sentiment,
One of the things that I once deemed impossible
Is a fated encounter of a man who'll bring me a boquet of blue roses
As they say, women has soft spot for flowers
For I am a woman who keeps dreaming
Like the symbol conveyed by the blue roses
I keep praying and hoping that someday, the blue roses blooms to existence.
Aug 16, 2025
Aug 16, 2025 at 10:33 AM UTC
I was never one to fantasize about my wedding day or obssess about the identity and whereabouts of my groom to be . I just viewed marriage as pleasant expectation.
Something wonderful that would come in its due time
But now I've come to my sences. Untie the boquet, tell the flower girl to ignite her roses, tell the ring bearer not to take caution, pour the champaign down the drain and tear down the wedding cake.
The groom isn't going to show .
And I don't blame him
What awaited him was an asylum in a white dress .
Each step would have brought him closer to being chained to a despondant soul.
I want to love someone,someone that is all mine . Love them with everything in me and wake up each day with my whole would resting on the pillow next to me. But it's not fair to try to love someone when you don't love yourself. I can't charge someone with the responsibility of holding me together. I won't ever be that selfish. So groom to be stay where you are if you see me coming run for the hills .
I'll silence the wedding bells and send the band home. Don't waste a perfectly good tux on me .
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:42 AM UTC
I wanted an afternoon
An afternoon was all
A stroll through distraction
Some paintings on a wall
All I wanted was an ornament
To brighten up a room
Instead I bought a boquet
One for me, one for you
It's temporary
Yes it is
To hang in windows and dry
But what a beautiful, lingering way to go
What an excellent way to die
I set out on certainty to
Find myself a blend
Life's a dash,
A one line race
So let your fingers touch the end
Toss your hair and bend the straight
Don't color in lines and out-run fate
Learn that a race is only won when there's two
And learn that though there's anyone, there will always be you
So sure.
Make sense of the theories you'll never define
But I won't trust anyone
Unless that anyone's mine.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:41 PM UTC
Look in to my eyes
What do you see?
Can you see the pain I've seen?
Can you see the places I've been?
Can you see the people I've known?
Can you see how much I've grown?
Can you see that I'm alone?
Always
Can you see?
Green and gold dancing around the inky black
My pupils
In brightness contracted
From the light refracted
Giving substance to what stands before me
Can you see?
Despair and joy
Balancing in a brutal ballet
Brawny and brittle
Becoming barely blissful
A benevolent boquet
Of clover
Is this over?
No
My eyes have seen beauty
Perceived pain
Punished by pleasure
And pleasured in anguish
Can you see?
The person standing here
With eyes swimming
In a sea of green
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
Did you see them take the green fields
one by one, now line by line on hills in echelon?
Still, holding ground held holy by their sons;
no longer marching to the smoke and drum.
Where bugler called the day to final rest,
now silence grows like lichen on the stones.
For those who gave their all at our behest,
our memories alone will not atone.
Do you see the fires burning at a distance,
and more hallowed ground broken day by day?
Each new stone laid a fading reminiscence;
each new boquet soon fading into gray.
What better way to honor sacrifice
than to pause and speak their names aloud.
Until the gods of war are pacified;
until our flag no longer serves as shroud.
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 10:29 AM UTC
He's everywhere. You can't escape the grasp he has around your entire being.
He's in the last boquet of flowers he gave you which have been sitting on your desk for months. They're about ten shades darker from the first time you set eyes on them. There are fewer petals and they're much more fragile than your mothers fine china.
He's in the last drop of ink of your favorite pen which hasn't been used since the time you wrote about how much he meant to you.
He's in that T-shirt that he left crumpled on the floor in the corner of your bedroom that's stained with your mascara from that time you cried so hard you couldn't breathe. He stayed to try to comfort you, but the night ended with your bare skin whispering, "please don't leave" as his said, "I can't stay for long."
He's in the echo that rings through your ears every time the door slams shut. But it's not the sound of the door that unthreads your heart little by little, it's his voice repeating "goodbye, I'll see you soon." over and over again.
His presence is everywhere, although he isn't physically there. It's not like he ever really was. You sit there and wonder how someone you thought was so beautiful, could have left you with someone so ugly. Heartache and hope. You hope that maybe he'll come back, but you know that he isn't. He was never planning on coming back. All that you have left is the ghost of him, or who you thought he was.
B.S.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC
Sitting at the table
She appeared as a boquet
Of roses, ****** red.
He can smell her scent
Admire the beauty
Brush his hand upon her head.
Although she blooms
And her stems are ripe
She feeds on only pain.
So on this flower,
Thorns cut smart,
And through his soul they slain.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
1.
i thought about seeing her in a private environment
like sitting in her room by herself on her knees
surrounded by her own messes
and scanning the internet for something to spend her time on.
do you ever picture yourself
on the outside looking in?
Does it make you feel like jumping up,
and immediately pick up a ***** coffee mug
and a bag of marshmellows to take to the kitchen.
Does it almost make you stand up
and change your clothes
like your best friend
(your only friend)
is coming over?
Does it sink in that sometimes you just don’t belong
and that friend never comes over
or messages you
or invites you out to eat.
Why do your friendships last as long as a boquet of peachy roses?
Suddenly you see yourself: walking over to the glass flower vase
for fresh water when you know it’s too late.
2.
he used to look at me like he was eager
to have a word or more.
he says, he says,
that this union is forever babe.
something makes me feel that
truth but loving is really hard
when we flirt with mythical creatures
and **** **** to numb the reality
that loving you is never enough.
3.
your breaking my heart, your breaking my heart
this is harder than anything i feared.
you listen to the playlist of your high school years
because something makes it hard to breathe.
folded knees, somebody please, save me from the mess I made.
it's the same old story, just different lines
and i'm tired of playing the same role.
isn't someone listening? I can hardly breathe on this black stage
am I supposed to pretend
that this isn't real?
That after this, we could just go home and be together?
You're falling apart, you're falling apart
every ounce of energy wants to cry out loud
but instead of tears, hot salty forums of unhappiness,
your turn the music up
to drown out the loneliness
and boredom.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
Did you see them take the green fields
one by one, now line by line on hills in echelon?
Still, holding ground held holy by their sons;
no longer marching to the smoke and drum.
Where bugler called the day to final rest,
now silence grows like lichen on the stones.
For those who gave their all at our behest,
our memories alone will not atone.
Do you see the fires burning at a distance,
and more hallowed ground broken day by day?
Each new stone laid a fading reminiscence;
each new boquet soon fading into gray.
What better way to honor sacrifice
than to pause and speak their names aloud.
Until the gods of war are pacified;
until our flag no longer serves as shroud.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 10:25 AM UTC
The songs that were never sung
The wedding bells that never rang
The vows that were never exchanged
The aisle that we never walked
The boquet you never threw
The ring i never proposed
are all still waiting right were they are supposed to be.
Grrh!! I woke, sorry for the disappointment guys.
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 5:19 PM UTC
lillies.
they're pretty.
i see them
on my morning walks --
they adorn the footpath.
im about to buy some
in a boquet,
tied in with some tulips
and leaves as spacers.
they're for my new partner.
but whenever i see
these lillies,
i can only
think
of
you.
maybe because your essence
was just like the lily's --
you were elegant,
compassionate,
and you loved everyone
with the biggest
heart and smiles.
i know its wrong,
to still think of you.
but these lillies --
they're everywhere i go.
i wouldn't take it as a sign
but i know it means
something.
i shouldn't be buying these
for my new partner,
she isn't elegant
like you,
or have a big smile
like you did,
so why do i buy them?
or walk the same footpath
every morning
just
to
see
them?
i don't know.
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 12:26 AM UTC