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Marly May 2014
I never used to cry this hard, not even when he was pronounced dead.
They pronounce you dead because that becomes your new name; you are nothing but a carcass that needs to be dealt with before it rots.
Sometimes I see him, with a daisy tucked behind one ear and a pen behind the other.
Bare-footed, of course.
He always told me how important it is to know as well as to feel where you are going.
Death is more than an acquaintance to me, we've met on many terms.
The first time I encountered death was when she carried a part of me there in her *****.
I never left and I don't think I ever will.
You broke the dam behind my eyes (you made me feel like I never thought I could) and I don't have enough materials to patch it up.
I'm desperately trying to fix myself but I can't; you're holding of my resources in your arms instead of holding me.
Please put your lips on mine before I drown us both.
Vicki Watson May 2014
After the rain, I see the daisies,
In their clean, white dresses,
Fresh and perfect.
Washed and bright,
Their faces lifted to the skies,
And open to the sun.

Is it their youth that makes them so fearless,
Despite their diminutive size?
A naivety of spirit or
Lack of worldly knowledge?
Or do their fleeting, precarious lives
Lead them to so embrace the now?

No, their beauty springs from a truth far older,
For they are neither flashy nor flamboyant.
A daisy knows no subterfuge,
Has no jealousies, no conceit.
Its wisdom lies deeper,
And it bends with the wind.

To value the time that we have,
To see beauty in the smallest places,
And to love without fear,
Is a talent easily lost,
And the line between happy and sad is drawn
With a thin pencil and a light touch.

In miniature perfection,
A daisy lives fully,
Its face in the sunlight.
It lives, and that is enough.

Vicki Watson © 2014
Ironatmosphere May 2014
Do you remember when we were little?
Do you remember the time
We made snow angels
In May
And mum got upset
Because our clothes were stained by grass
But we didn’t care
We just lay in the grass full of daisies
And looked up
At the endless sea of stars
And it was just a little bit too cold
And a little bit too damp
But we really didn’t care
Because those stars
Those stars
They were the most beautiful things
We had ever seen
Sara Escalante Apr 2014
She found meaning in objects
Like Christians with crosses
Believed in their power
Without second thought.
Sarah Michelle Apr 2014
He
He writes poems
the way he chooses what to wear in the morning
He does these two things like a child
learning Spanish, and he loves the language
very much, so why does it matter?
He feels at home
because Summer is eternal, being
the onions he hides under his floorboards
under his bed
He says, "They smell like shastas."
In class I was imagining this very relaxed and strange guy. Later I'll make this longer, maybe.
Ali Cronin Mar 2014
I'm not supposed
To want to kiss your lips
& make sure happiness
Finds it's way to your day.
Giving you romance tips
Between my acid trips
& pretending
It's all okay.
Because it's wrong.
I'm not right.
And now I'm off
On a different flight
Descending
Burning
Rotting in hell.
& I don't know
If you could tell
But I'm pushing up daisies
Maybe I'm crazy
Just because I want you
To call me your baby

— The End —