Flower Poetry

for Children

Three Coins in a Fountain

 

Once Upon A Time,
Not So Long Ago

A butterfly flitted leisurely
Across a meadow most enchanting
Enjoying the breeze against her wings,
She was joyously air dancing.

A patch of yellow daisies
In the midst of a shiny green mound
Was directly in her flight path
And she flew there without a sound.

As the morning sun grew warm
She reclined on a glossy green rock.
Surrounded by Summerís beauty,
She suddenly had quite a shock!

The ground opened up before her
And two huge brown eyes appeared.
They blinked in annoyed confusion
When they saw that she was near.

A warning blast of fire shot out
Through dragonís nostrils flared.
Followed by a horrible roar
That shattered the peace filled air.

"Not exactly a morning person Sir?"
The butterfly asked politely.
Dusting the ash from delicate wings
She settled back on his nose so lightly.

"AARGH" he groaned quite loudly
As the dragon rose to stand.
"Didnít you hear that roar butterfly?
It is feared throughout the land."

"My flames can cook you easily,
I can squish you with my toe.
Iím a dangerous earth stomping dragon
I can conquer any foe."

Looking him squarely in one eye,
The butterfly smiled and sighed,
"Those are daisies in your hand,
Kind Sir You canít be too bad a guy."

The dragon now was quiet.
As he pondered the butterflyís words.
There was just no explanation
That didnít seem awfully absurd.

 

Taking a closer glance at him
The butterfly soon recognized
"Hey, You're the Kingdomís defender
Your reputation is most highly prized."

Flitting up to his ear lobe
So he could hear her well
The butterfly whispered softly
"Iíve no need to tattle tell."

The Dragon was delighted
He had found a new friend true.
Holding out a yellow daisy
He said " Butterfly, Thank you."

And so the bond was formed
Between the Dragon and Butterfly.
They went off to tour his Kingdom
With her flitting by his side.

by Tomi Fratto
© (used with permission)

Black Eyed Susan
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon

Saucy little Black Eyed Susan,
When her Mother caught her snoozin'
Rubbed her sleepy eyes and said
She guessed she'd toddle off to bed.
Bluebell
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
Bluebell softly, gently sways
Through the long hot summer days;
Lives where nothing else can grow,
That's why we all love her so.
Buttercup
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
Thirsty little Buttercup
Caught the dew and drank it up,
Said cool water was so good,
She didn't seem to care for food.
Gentian
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
Gentian growing by the brook,
Bending low to get a look
At her pretty face so sweet,
Stepped too near and wet her feet.
Iris
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
Iris in a country garden,
Politely said, "I beg your pardon,
But I'm from sunny France you see,
And my real name is Fleur-de-Lis."
Primrose
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
Primrose is the dearest thing
She loves to play outdoors in spring;
But if a little child is ill,
She's happy on the window sill.
Twin Flower Babies
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
If you're very, very good
When you're walking in the wood,
Twin-Flower babies you may see,
Sheltered by some old pine tree.
Violet
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
Modest little Violet
Was her loving Mother's pet;
Didn't care to go and play,
Rather stay at home all day.
Wild Rose
Flower Poem
Illustrated by Elizabeth Gordon
Oh, have you seen sweet Briar Rose?
She wears the very dearest clothes,
A hat the sweetest ever seen,
And dainty frock all shades of green.
The Flowers
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith
All the names I know from nurse:
Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
And the Lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames --
These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies weave a house;
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people's trees,
But the fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so tall,
I should live for good and all.

 

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