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25/F    a dumping ground for poems and feelings, edited and unedited, good and bad, it's all here
daffodil
california    twitter: @dvffodil

Poems

veronica  Aug 2016
Daffodil
veronica Aug 2016
He bought her a daffodil from the 7th street
walking downtown rushing to get home
the front porch was filled with the smell of smoked meat

He put the freshly bought flower on the side
where the other kinds sat still and look nice
they prepared the table and sat aswell
dinner at front yard was their shenanigan

Little did they know; the daffodil notices them
a happy couple without any problem
the flower grew while they took care of it
with love and attention like it's a kid

Few years has gone by
the couple often held serious fights
their front yard looked dull and dry
the daffodil felt sad but kept on blooming bright

She left him and flew away
He stayed with the daffodil and water them everyday
but one day he left; just like the girl he loved left home
the daffodil felt lonely, but kept on growing as it stand alone
emlyn lua Sep 2019
Daffodil, daffodil, can’t you see?
I love you sweet flower,
But you don’t love me.
You know me not, so I suppose,
I am but a mirror,
Blank as shadows.

Without people I am mute,
Mere consciousness,
A playerless lute.
Around too many others
I am a scramble,
Their presence smothers.

Daffodil, daffodil, look not listen,
I am a poor imitation
But my eyes, they glisten.
I am nothing at all of my own:
Composed of distant fragments,
Patchwork of all I’ve known.

I have nothing you could call a true voice;
The words that I speak
Are not mine of choice.
I love you, I love you,
I can never say,
Unless you do too.
Emma Sawyer Jan 2010
Broken and damaged over the years
The Daffodil has yet not come to face its fears
All true beauty lies in the colour red
Can rest comfortably all in your head.

The Daffodil seeks a great light
To save it from its final fight.
The true image which it hides behind
Is not one that we will ever find.

A long lost treasure that we have found.
Which lies hundreds of miles under the ground.
The seconds which we can conceal.
We find the only the Daffodil.

Forget-me-knots and roses too
All the flowers that show us true.
Are nothing like the flower we will see.
The daffodil in which I believe.
ElSawyer(c)2009