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clouds of pink on the cherry sigh,
sweet, whispering flowers fall and fall,

they lie upon the mossy wall,
clouds falling from a pink-sea sky,


flowers of the wind, confetti, rice,
papery stream like a pressed dry rose,

blossom song, the tireless breezes blow,
bewitching bower of cherry-flower ice.


a stream of melancholy green,
dances through the shades of the trees

the pink blooms sweep the river's breeze,
dry on stones, cherry-petal scenes....
Julian Feb 29
The sakura whispers
with the softness of first light,
but it burgeons,
as all brave hearts do,

it drapes its limbs
in the tender cradle of the breeze,
sending roots deep
to clutch the heart of the earth.

And when it blooms,
oh, how it blooms,
with the ferocity
of a love that refuses silence,

as if it alone
were chosen to guard
the fragile blush
of dawn,

its petals holding
the light,
infusing its essence
as it reaches for the sky,
yearning for the sun's warmth
and the rain's solace.

Sakura hesitates
in the moment before unfolding,
for it knows
that beauty unfolds in its own sacred time -

Life is a tender whisper
in the vastness,
and to blossom at all
is an act of divine grace.
trip to japan, poetry about cherry blossoms
Steve Page Feb 19
It's seems way too early
for blossom
and for blossom to fall.
But who am I to judge?
I've never borne such beauty.
Walked past a tree and was showered in white blossom
Bea Rae Feb 9
Withered and broken

I long to be the flower

Blossoming with ease
ANTONIO Ainnoot Dec 2023
Glass half empty, half filled, I cannot philosophize how much of a fool I've been.
To reminisce what we once were, then,
I continuously stare at pictures of you.
My most hopeful assumption is you're blossoming—that you're much happier.

All praise is due to the most omniscient.
Sometimes I wish you weren't so firm in your position.

May your garden be adorned with galore, all your memories recorded, and when you hear your calling, may you not ignore it.
May all your bouquets be orchids, and cups filled to the brim.
I hope that you're in love with all that you've conceived,
And when he sings how much he loves, may you believe in him.
Nigdaw Jun 2023
a rocky place to call home
metaphorically speaking
by the side of a road
among the detritus of motorists
thrown from car windows
as was he, just a core
from an apple in an unfinished
lunch box eaten on the way home
that somehow germinated
I call him, him because
it makes me comfortable
to give gender and character
build up some sort of empathy
in the winter a sad skeleton
silhouette against a slate sky
bur every spring blossoming
to produce apples for the birds
where no human would dare
wander unless broken down
I admire the consistency
of nature and the hope it brings
Coleen Mzarriz Apr 2023
It was reflecting—slowly creeping into the small, cracked part of my window. Running his cold, sweaty palm on my forehead and onto the crevasses of my already fragile soul. It is growing like small plants waiting to sprout in dry concrete, blossoming into a wild forest waiting for the blessing of the sun and being showered by the rain.

It creeps softly, masked by the greenery, sometimes vibrant and with a scent of fresh linen sheets and apple slices or newly painted canvases dried out by the cool breeze of the weather, and everyone is smiling, glorious, and incandescent.

But it was also reflecting—slowly creeping into the small crack of my window. Where my room speaks a foreign language and my pillow beats achingly; where breathing morphs into a shadow—eventually walking by your side, so quietly you couldn’t even notice.
there’s something about being known by the unknown.
Nigdaw Mar 2023
the cherry blossom blooms brightly
nature smiles on deserted streets
leaving a carpet of pink to colour
the desolate lonely landscape
it's like an empty welcome home
begging for the normality of children
playing among the flowers, commuters
enjoying the colour of a bright spring
morning on their way to work where
work is no longer an option
the trees will fruit from the poison earth
only the birds will enjoy their bounty
man no longer a part of what was once
a home, a life, a sanctuary
Tilly Apr 2022
From cherry blossom pink to vivid greens,
a season turns;  This, is not the first          
confetti covered path
we've trodden
.

With all our senses [not just the five] look towards those brighter,
clear blue skies, my love.
Watch & wait.
When all other words fall short...
There is always poetry x
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