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tia Oct 4
I turn my head, dissatisfied
Holding a flower, which I had let die
Wilted and forgotten
Crushed so easily
I laugh at the sight
Oh did you ever even need me?
Goodbye, I guess
My garden needs you not
To spoil the blossoms
And have the happiness rot
Kerli Tulva Sep 27
Are we the blossoms of a flower?
Blooming but yet retreating
into our protected element.

Going through growth
do we need a plan
or do we just blossom
and find happiness
in the moments of life's
endless incessant swing.

Changing as the seasons
fly effortlessly yet diversely
by our perception of life.
Kashish Sep 27
In a shell, I have been. My petals closed for long
Shattered since your departure, I haven't sung a song
In the breeze, standing tall, dancing to the rhythm
Amongst all the other blossoms, white; blue; and crimson

Bruised and blanched I might seem on the outside
On the inside, I know I am lowly wild
It's just me who thought the tears I cried
Washed away my colour, canary yellow and so bright

The scars I wear cannot obscure my grace
For I know, the clouds of these blemishes will be the ones stopping the chase
And when they do, I will be free from the shackles of my mind
I will bloom brighter than ever. Not for a moment, I will feel confined
The blossoms are calm,
and yet still, she sings for
the heavens within, the white
heron bows to the sea water,
it sees the clouds of night
touched by lunar wind, the
lucid paintings of seagrass
contemplate the presence of the
poet floating upon the waters,
and say to her, “you too,have wings”,  
the lights beneath her
as dewdrops, bright as cricket
melody, the lone lantern glows
in the silent hour of all, where
the artist’s senses awaken
as ripples of butterflies
opening, the petals in far  
flight ask her, “are you
I?” , her starry form is light
upon the mirror of the moon,
a ghost of time and being,
she held a secret, the
beauty of imperfection
decorated her as the
stars, the heron asked her, “your
nature is delicate as my feathers, why did you wish to hide?”
she sung back “I hid because
I was afraid, I loved in a world
of no love, I realize now,
to reveal the amygdala
that lives in color is to be
brave in a world of grey,
to be delicate is a strength,
to have tears is to have power,
to paint your emotions
through eyes and lips is grace,
being is the greatest gift”
she perceived a divine
revelation, “I am human,
light and dark, I release the
suffering”, her hands floated
upon the water, the sounds
of the ocean echo the  
endless journey, she becomes
the milky amber dream, night
has turned to day, the flower of
the sea has found her home
in the embrace of the one whom
loved her before existence, she spoke not, for
all the songs have already been sung,
the eons have spoken, softly, she closes
her eyes in the heavenly warmth,
there is only the whisper, “I have
returned to you when I was never lost”
tia Jul 23
overcrowd my brain with blossoms
until it bursts out of my head
whose petals tear apart my skin
covered in red
now I can breathe at ease
with my thoughts finally dead
there is no more room for thoughts
just flowers
Jenish Jul 6
buff blossoms bringing
bright bubbling blissful blessings -
benign brain bewitched
George Krokos Jun 11
It’s said that ‘true love can never die’
and the heart of the lover knows why.
As this love blossoms and becomes pure
throughout all of eternity it does endure.
__
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's
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