Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Author unknown

For the Flowers have the Gift of Language

Speak, flowers, speak! Why do you say nothing?

The flowers have the gift of language.

In the meadow they speak of freedom,

Creating patterns wild and free as no gardener could match.

In the forest they nestle, snug carpets under the roof of Leaf and branch, making a rug of such softness.

At end tip of branches they cling briefly Before bursting into fruit sweet to taste.

Flowers, can you not speak joy to our sadness? And hope to our fear?

Can you not say how it is with you That you color the darkest corner?

The flowers have the gift of language.

At the occasion of birth they are buds before bursting.

At the ceremony of love they unite two lovers in beauty.

At the occasion of death, they remind us how lovely is life.

Oh, would that you had voice,
Silent messengers of hope.

Would that you could tell us how you feel, Arrayed in such beauty.

The flowers have the gift of language.

In the dark depths of a death camp They speak the light of life.

In the face of cruelty They speak of courage.

In the experience of ugliness They bespeak the persistence of beauty.

Speak, messengers, speak!

For we would hear your message.

Speak, messengers, speak!

For we need to hear what you would say.

For the flowers have the gift of language:

They transport the human voice on winds of beauty;


jac 1:58 PM  

"In the experience of ugliness They bespeak the persistence of beauty".

I like that... who ever wrote that ?

starry nights 2:02 PM  

Jac..I will never look at a flower in the same way again.

Alexis Leon 11:05 AM  
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Alexis Leon 11:05 AM  

Nice poem. Often wondered why the authors of many of such beautiful poems remains unknown. May be they wanted the poems to speak for themselves.

Anil The Great 12:08 AM  

i had read the poem on daffidols, long long back in my childhood.

though i could nver appreciate the poetry but I really loved those flowers.

you feel so much peaceful and happy.


Aditi 12:45 AM  

Very beautiful poem, a unique perspective on flowers. We look at them so often and they are a part of all our joys and sorrow yet so often we overlook them..

Rose 1:18 AM  


"All my life,
so far,
I have loved
more than one thing,

including the mossy hooves
of dreams, including'
the spongy litter
under the tall trees.

In spring
the moccasin flowers
reach for the crackling
lick of the sun

and burn down. Sometimes,
in the shadows,
I see the hazy eyes,
the lamb-lips

of oblivion,
its deep drowse,
and I can imagine a new nothing
in the universe,

the matted leaves splitting
open, revealing
the black planks
of the stairs.

But all my life--so far--
I have loved best
how the flowers rise
and open, how

the pink lungs of their bodies
enter the fore of the world
and stand there shining
and willing--

the one thing they can do before
they shuffle forward
into the floor of darkness, they
become the trees.

- Mary Oliver

starry nights 7:20 AM  

Alexis It is a beautiful poem. I think it is what the unitarian church follow.

starry nights 7:24 AM  

Anil Flowers do make us happy through good times and bad.

Aditi I agree with you, we do take them for granted because they are always there, during winter they may disappear but will never fail to show up in spring.

Rose. Loved that poem. Thanks.I love flowers, I have plants in my backyard . the plants were given to me by different people.Every year when the flowers bloom they remind me of the person that gave me that plant.

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