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Chris Lazzaro Apr 2019
Over the hills
nightingales sing
to the chime of bells
ringing across  
English fields.

There, the lovers lay,
admiring the beautiful
blue spring day.

Out on the blanket
they roll with laughter,
recalling old memories,
and dreaming of dreams after.

Her beauty, a treasure
one truly adored.
A life without her
he could not afford.

As the sun sets
behind the hills,
his eyes begin to
fill with tears.

He leans in,
for a kiss,
only to feel a
cold, hard cheek.
Pulling back with haste,
a cry, a scream.

He rolls with anguish
recalling same memories
without dreams after.
Dark clouds appear,
her hand not near.

A rose placed
at her head, underneath.  
The lovers lay,
separated from her
by six feet deep.
Erian Rose Apr 2019
A fire abloom
Deep within my heart
Even a match
Couldn't start the flare
You blaze so brightly
Without having to burn
Away from the field of roses
In my arms
You don't see how much you mean
With or without
A blazing mark
Chris Apr 2019
Crows
A girl walked through the field one morning,
free of worries, doubts and woes.
The path was clear, forever going,
Through the corn field through the rows.

She walked and leaped and laughed and sang,
Until she stopped to see the view,
Something strange has stopped her legs.
She would have walked on if only she knew.

There across her stood a stake
With a strawman tied and bound,
The crows sat on him,sat and ate,
But they didn't make a sound.

A scarecrow- she thought, but amused,
I've never seen one this upclose,
But isn't all for which he's used,
To chase off those nasty crows?

A girl drew closer and so did the clouds,
The birds shrieked and flew away,
The girl went pale and screamed out loud,
She aged a century that sunny day.

There on the stake bound with rope,
In the corn field attracting crows,
Hung, half eaten, beyond hope.
The girl's neighbour, farmer Joe.

She kept silent after that,
As the gray clouds spat out rain.
And the wind blew of the scarecrow's hat,
To reveal the farmers brain.
What most of us don't see.
Abigail Hobbs Mar 2019
Golden boy, tell me you love me
under the distant, golden sun
In a golden grained field
where we can explore this love
Amidst the grained plain
where wildflowers roam
where wildflowers it has gained.
03/20/19
Chasing the clouds
In the morning sky.
Picnics with lovers
In the fields of rye.
MJL Mar 2019
Fescue fields in view
Electric neon butter *****
Scattered glowing beacons
Dot the greens and browns
Magnets for little hands
Tiny feet racing to keep up
Their laser focus
To pick and pick and pick
More and more and more
Fistfuls of joy
To tickle the nose
To share laughter
To put in a pocket
Then nap and forget


© 2019 MJL
Isheanopa Zvobgo Mar 2019
I hope shooting stars fall on all your empty acres.
The places where the seeds I planted never grew.

Places that won't even grow poppies.
Yes, I'm praying the Sars fall on no man's land.
More commonly known as your heart.
May stars fall next to Flanders Feilds
Star BG Mar 2019
I walked in field
loving nature.
It loved me back
as I picked fruit.
They said.
“We love you BERRY much.”
playing with words again
K Balachandran Feb 2019
seed:the playwrite's thought,
director prepared the field;
actor's sowing act!
M P Jan 2019
i want to be in a field of sunflowers and
i want to take you with me
we can run away at three in the morning; going on adventures that we’ll remember forever
we can bring a bottle of ***** and forget about the rest of the world
we can watch the moon glide across the sky
taking in the presence of the dazzling lights of stars
rex orange county can play from the radio while we make the night worth it

i want to be in a field of sunflowers and
i want to take you with me
so that we can see the yellow flowers and feel like we can be happy again
so that we can belt out our favorite songs without anyone hearing
so that i won’t feel alone anymore

i want to be in a field of sunflowers and
i want to take you with me
because ‘loving is easy’ is relatable in more ways than one
because i want to love and be loved back
and bringing you on my journey to the field will make that happen
they can call us crazy but they should call us
sunflower dreamers
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