Soil and ancient roots.
John Moffatt
John Moffatt
Jun 19, 2012

Mother Summer's peace,
Cottonwoods, swaying willows.
Soil and ancient roots.

Soil is very important
Palas Kumar Ray
Mar 5, 2010

Soil is very important
Just beneath your feet
regardless
Wherever you are
for the time being
You shall have to come back
To soil
where from you fly

Soil is very important.

Daniel Magner
Daniel Magner
Jul 31, 2013

The spots I'm seeing connect,
forming an image through my cold sweats.
I feel like a jest but nobody's laughing,
it's silent like the inside of a coffin
at the graveyard, only sounds are
the footsteps of the drunken night guard
playing cards with the dead.

Daniel Magner 2013
Jamie Powers
Jamie Powers
Aug 18, 2013

Without giving me any warning,
You engraved yourself into my flesh;
Like a flower wrapping its vines around my torso.
I would pluck at your petals and
Tear at your roots
But you would not leave me.

become the soil.
Emma B
Emma B
Jul 16, 2013

Isn't it nice
how the sunflowers
become the soil.

E R Romaine
Jan 9, 2012

The wind is influenced by
The direction she walks in.
The sky is willful to carry her breath.
The withered leaves
Are first to caress her.
But the earth waits first
To hold her in death.

Maya Caroline
Maya Caroline
Dec 3, 2012

What am I?

I should be nothing to you.
A breeze on your neck.
A pleasing glance
or stare.

I’d hope.

Though nothing more and nothing less.
I am a bag of dirt.

Wash and rid of me
from your warm hands.

While you still can.

I grasp the soil with tender hands and tender hopes.
Bryn
Bryn
Apr 28, 2013

Delicate
As fragile as the first flower after the long winter,
and as I yearn to show its beauty to the world,
I am scared.

To lose it,
to have it break,
wither and fall,
and so.

I grasp the soil with tender hands and tender hopes.

Soil infertile,
Nocturnus Libertus
Nocturnus Libertus
Apr 3, 2013      Apr 3, 2013

I cannot produce,
I cannot be used.
I sit here in dryness,
I call this abuse.

Seeds fall into me,
as they always do,
I cannot grow roses,
& flowers won't bloom.

My purpose stands nowhere,
I cannot see.
Why mother Earth,
would you do this to me?

I want to make tulips,
all lusciously aglow.
But there is a felling,
I'll never know.

Soil infertile,
Soil inebriate.
Why must I suffer,
this horrible fate?

Bring me winter,
Bring me spring,
bring all of the beautiful birds,
to sing.

Let me grow tulips,
let me grow roses.
As the sun shines,
on the children's noses.

Give me a beautiful,
wonderful garden.
Let me grow wood,
Let the tree's roots harden.

Hazel Hira Ozbek
Hazel Hira Ozbek
Oct 13, 2013

She is Southern and hungry
With no family
She has no future
No dreams
Her life is about surviving
Not living

She is Northern and starving
Only to fit into her size 0 jeans
She will graduate and
Get married
Her life is about acting
Not living

They are both miserable
Both dying
Different soils
Same souls
Same endings

 
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