Dahlia_mocke - Hello Poetry

Who asked, who asked, For your opinion to bask When you are as simple as a buttered scone? I deem you unworthy of speech, As your words do each Illustrate what your eyes have shown. Who asked, who asked, For it to be your task When your opinion is not wanted? You seem not to see, That as your words reach me I still remain undaunted.

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Jun 14, 2025

Jun 14, 2025 at 7:44 AM UTC

Dahlia_mocke

Opinions

Who asked, who asked, For your opinion to bask When you are as simple as a buttered scone? I deem you unworthy of speech, As your words do each Illustrate what your eyes have shown. Who asked, who asked, For it to be your task When your opinion is not wanted? You seem not to see, That as your words reach me I still remain undaunted.

12

Take it, you need it more My peace My love My sanity My joy I’ll keep what’s left. The spite The rage The fear The dregs of hope.

0

Jun 10, 2025

Jun 10, 2025 at 2:32 PM UTC

Dahlia_mocke

Take it

Take it, you need it more My peace My love My sanity My joy I’ll keep what’s left. The spite The rage The fear The dregs of hope.

10

Never was she the type to chase For if she moved an inch Failure would take her place. Her footprints have molded the soil Marking where she always waits An illustration of her mortal foil. To leave would mean to miss What could finally be coming To bring eternal bliss. There she will wait Until the earth swallows her whole Where she sealed her fate.

0

Jun 10, 2025

Jun 10, 2025 at 2:23 PM UTC

Dahlia_mocke

You'll Find Her Waiting

Never was she the type to chase For if she moved an inch Failure would take her place. Her footprints have molded the soil Marking where she always waits An illustration of her mortal foil. To leave would mean to miss What could finally be coming To bring eternal bliss. There she will wait Until the earth swallows her whole Where she sealed her fate.

12

My favorite shirt is blue Does that mean it’s my favorite color? It’s not the shade of the sea, nor sky It’s the hue of royalty without a crown But I am not noble, and this shirt has long sleeves I cannot wear it in summer, and it is no longer sold I fear for the day it is laden with holes It has begun to pill under the arms When the fabric begins to thin, will I have to find a few favorite shirt? Perhaps it will be the same shade of blue Is it my favorite?

0

Jun 7, 2025

Jun 7, 2025 at 9:03 AM UTC

Dahlia_mocke

My Favorite Shirt

My favorite shirt is blue Does that mean it’s my favorite color? It’s not the shade of the sea, nor sky It’s the hue of royalty without a crown But I am not noble, and this shirt has long sleeves I cannot wear it in summer, and it is no longer sold I fear for the day it is laden with holes It has begun to pill under the arms When the fabric begins to thin, will I have to find a few favorite shirt? Perhaps it will be the same shade of blue Is it my favorite?

11

The Dahlia dances in the wind, bathes in the rain She watches day turn to night, spring turn to summer By the time her stem is sturdy, frost has come Her petals embraced bees and sunlight endlessly But it was over before it even began As she withers, the soil reminds her What does the soil know? It is filled with rock and worm to remember But Dahlia indeed listens She, too, recalls soft fingers on her leaves Cool water atop her newly planted seeds Gentle tears when she was the only one to feel them How she longs for it now For the love, she couldn’t recognize She tilts her face to the sky Thank you, her teary voice whispers Rest now, spring is waiting Soil embraces her now Shielding her heart, her roots, her memory But in the cold, Dahlias aren’t perennials And again, the soil lied.

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Apr 24, 2025

Apr 24, 2025 at 9:34 AM UTC

Dahlia_mocke

She Lies in the Ground

The Dahlia dances in the wind, bathes in the rain She watches day turn to night, spring turn to summer By the time her stem is sturdy, frost has come Her petals embraced bees and sunlight endlessly But it was over before it even began As she withers, the soil reminds her What does the soil know? It is filled with rock and worm to remember But Dahlia indeed listens She, too, recalls soft fingers on her leaves Cool water atop her newly planted seeds Gentle tears when she was the only one to feel them How she longs for it now For the love, she couldn’t recognize She tilts her face to the sky Thank you, her teary voice whispers Rest now, spring is waiting Soil embraces her now Shielding her heart, her roots, her memory But in the cold, Dahlias aren’t perennials And again, the soil lied.

21

I’ll meet you again Somewhere between now and then When the marigolds have long died Where tears have finally dried How long, we won’t know For we must wait to reap what we sow Cobwebs and dust will cover each shelf No longer will I be myself Between life and death I must find you before my final breath Through soil and stone Nothing matches the love you’ve shown Please don't forget about me Soon, together we shall be I’ll meet you again Someday, somewhere between now and then.

0

Apr 22, 2025

Apr 22, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC

Dahlia_mocke

Now and Then

I’ll meet you again Somewhere between now and then When the marigolds have long died Where tears have finally dried How long, we won’t know For we must wait to reap what we sow Cobwebs and dust will cover each shelf No longer will I be myself Between life and death I must find you before my final breath Through soil and stone Nothing matches the love you’ve shown Please don't forget about me Soon, together we shall be I’ll meet you again Someday, somewhere between now and then.

16