These too are of a burning color--not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.
These too are of a burning color--not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.
Poppies bleed petals of sheer excess. You and I, this sweet battle ground.
The great events of life often leave one unmoved they pass out of consciousness, and, when one thinks of them, become unreal. Even the scarlet flowers of passion seem to grow in the same meadow as the poppies of oblivion.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard among the guns below.
I was wan and weary with life ; my sick soul yearned for death;
I was weary of women and war and the sea and the wind's wild breath;
I cull'd sweet poppies and crush'd them, the blood ran rich and red:--
And I cast it in crystal chalice and drank of it till I was dead.
It's going to be really interesting to see what the heroin market does in the next two years or so. One thing you can be pretty sure of. The Afghan peasants who grow poppies won't get rich. The money will end up in places like Dubai.
As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers, we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love them.
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow: In Flanders fields.
As metal merges with metal, those who chant the Praises of the Lord are absorbed into the Praiseworthy Lord. Like the poppies, they are dyed in the deep crimson color of Truthfulness. Those contented souls who meditate on the Lord with single-minded love, meet the True Lord.
Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies.
Pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its blossom is shed Or like the snowfall in the river, A moment white - then melts for ever.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories