Mike Virgl Jan 4

With pedal's red flush
A rose grew in the arctic
Survivng to blush

How can on interpret a poem when no one has a clue who, what or where it is about? What if even the author is unsure?
Jonathan Sawyer Dec 2017

I. There exists only the Fractal.
II. The Fractal contains itself.
III. Everything else is derived.

10 Dec 2017 - Behold, the answer to Unified Field Theory in just 4 sentences and 18 words.
Dhaye Dec 2017

Green field is waiting
People are praying
The earth is ready for the day
The clouds are showing
The sun is rising
The wind is preparing the way
I don't have much time to see
But the heart is caring for thee
Lips are not prepared to say
In this field we will be free
From all worries to be
For things won't forever stay...

In memory of my grandma...
ella Dec 2017

I don't notice until he shifts
that he's pulled his sketch pad
from his bag, he's sketching me!
I close my eyes just before he looks up.
I feel giddy.
"You're a bad actress, madame."
I smile although my eyes are still closed.

Bina Perino Nov 2017

poppy fields,
poppy fields,
color of blood.
vibrant and dense,
hiding the mud.
leaf, stem, bud,
green as can be.
round brown centers,
staring at me.

George Grenfell Nov 2017

There it stands, arachnid shadows creeping down, its veins flow hidden, causing the grass to breathe.

A distant storm closes in,
it swallows the horizon, accentuating my trivialty .
I rest in solitude.

I make my way up the hill.
I can see the wind through the things that it moves, its power still dormant, demanding my respect.

As i get closer i can sense a force above me,
A blue marble spins and glistens in orange light,
i try desperately not to fall off.

Its almost too much to bare as i stretch out my hands.
In that instant i realise my eyes have been closed.

I hesitate to open them,
The vast atmosphere is now an ambience moaning low.
A deep chant reverberates inside.

I can feel Herculean walls towering to an ornate roof, and statues of gold staring into me, piercing my skin.

Never blinking, never averting their gaze, i have to see.

The hairs on my neck stand up and I thrust my eyes wide.

A cold breeze drifts in from my garden as rain drips off the tin roof.
I get up from my chair wiping my tired eyes.

I look out at the old tree from years past, but i see it for the first time.

Again this one is based off a recurring dream theme of a lone tree on a hill, and a huge monestary at the edge. Ive tried to reflect the atmosphere accurately.
Jikai Zheng Nov 2017

skin covered in shadows
a dead winter leaf bouncing against a flourishing summer tree
                                    catching the handle of a spider string
holding onto the living as if
                     it can escape its crumbling burial
             only can a field of soft, mumbling earth
                             call sleep more swiftly than a mattress
within the green and blue sphere are textured tints that release
            wifts of genuine air spilling into half-filled industrial lungs
                      can art be felt when eyes don't open?
as closed eyelids fall humble to the glowing yellow light
            answered silently with a curl of the lips

Sanny Nov 2017

Picking my words carefully on the field of eggshells.

Knowing that if I told you the truth you'd leave.

Like so many times before..

My struggles are seperating us.

Leaving me walking on the ground cracking with every step.

A faked laugh is worth your smile.

A proud hug that I cannot live up to.

With a heavy heart I know I've failed you..

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