Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Donna Feb 25
Daffodils blossom
Like drops of warm summer sun
Spring is on its way

Saw daffodils today so lovely x
Serendipity Mar 2020
Sometimes I feel as though
writing poetry
is like throwing scraps at the dogs.
Have I satisfied my mind's hunger to write?
Not until
I can say
that I've written
with pride.
For the only way to be full
is to be brave enough
to swallow
my own
Ashlyn Yoshida Mar 2020
forget me nots
purple and sweet
taste of perfection
**** and neat

as sugary as frosting
Growing with weeds
evil, secret, and mystery

they are the ones
they are the people
petals of blood

If they are flowers
I am a Dandelion
I take everything from everyone
and I am always lying
What do you think you are in terms of a plant?
Mujen Suraj Mar 2020
Can you listen to it?
The cry of the wind,
Its is calling for you, to break the bars
to feel the freedom, to do the wish.

Have you ever attempted?
To see what do you want,
To say what you like,
with no burden of words.
To find yourself in other's eyes.
And hold your heart, out of the cage.

What, do you think?
Would you come with me, to head towards
the unexplored, unto the new Sun.
to the land of daffodils and wilds of pine.
Where you can be you,
the wind is you and the rain is me.
John McCafferty Feb 2020
Yellow and lime
Distinct in rhyme
Have raised their heads before their time
Wordsworth's words sought in kind

Intent rearranged as the gaze has changed with age
Do Daffodils cheer me up?
Not so vast in a public park

For experience raises expectations
or am I the holder of a colder heart
further inline set to depart

A voice stored inside reminds
with a twinkle in his eye that
'Variety is the spice of life'
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Äŧül Aug 2019
Lonely I am not anymore,
Obvious was the need of a companion,
Tears used to roll down as if I chop an onion,
Unending is the happiness in this poem,
Sadness, I have forgotten you.

I now manufacture more happiness,
Shying away from smiling is nonsense.

Thoughts of mine finally orient east,
Heavy thoughts morph into light ones,
Estuary of sadness into a sea of gladness.

Becoming one with her, I am,
Expanse of the rising sun beckons me,
Sit we shall with one another,
Thickets of Selection Grass await her.
My HP Poem #1765
©Atul Kaushal
Jenny Gordon Mar 2019
...whence?  I know, I know, you've the florist's packet of preservative mixt for your cut flowrs don't you?  Good luck.  


Lo, tulip capes so thickly clustered they'll
Ne'er blossom, like sardines is it from hence?
Wait greenly by the back stoop for a sense
Of April in the wings.  And jonquils' hale
Green tendrils wait likewise for that detail
I guess, as maids whose innocent suspense
We fail to notice, full of vain pretense'
Auld lies as if such might at last avail.
Girls have been known as flowrs, since oh, in tour
God's Scriptures told us that, I spose.  Aye, do
Men ink laments of this or that as twere
It's thus:  "...her virgins, pure, deflowrd--" they knew.
These latter days we are taught lies, (in poor
'Scuse know by instinct) and cut flowrs down too.

*NOTE:  googling Wordsworth's invocation and tribute to heady "jonquils" supposedly they're our daffodils.  That two-beat term was more useful and etc. in L4. Ls 11-12:  I can't recall whose line and sonnet that is.
Donna Mar 2019
Pigeons are cooing
Sweet daffodils blossoming
And I sipping tea
:)been in my garden tis a  lovely sunny day **
Next page