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Flowers of all kinds,
I saw hyacinth, lilies, and roses alike,
Bought and sold near the riverside

Some in faith; others in love,
In the same faith; thrown away;
Castrated in city haul

Plastic flowers were sold near the florist shop
I saw the fresh flowers get withered
Never ending but fake,
I saw beauty being littered

Wandering this busy city
Near the station, as I stand—
I saw a little child laugh,
With nothing but a paper rose in hand.
When the world prefers plastic flowers,
a kid smiles with his paper flower.
ASLRC 5d
Somewhere far away where nothing looks the same
I could see a pretty dancing dandelion dame

Nobody would rob her from her joy
and nobody saw her as a toy

she danced and danced with a smile
she could go on dancing for a while

she had no doubts, no insecurities, no fear
because no humans or danger were anywhere near

Oh, dandelion dame, I wish I was you in some way
because humanity, reality and this city are grey
There were doves.
Amongst them was a raven.
The doves did not treat the raven unwell.
The doves treated the raven the same as they treated other doves.
They did not look at the raven with disgust.
They did not look down upon the raven.
They are all birds, after all.
The birds treated all each other the same, as an equal.
It didn’t matter what one looked like.
It didn’t matter what parts one had.
It didn’t matter if one was a male or not.
Why should they treat one like that?
After all, they are all birds.
They help each other fly.
They can chose where they want to fly.
They can soar high and low together.
They grow from their strengths.
They grow from their weaknesses.

The birds befriend other animals.
Dogs, cats, foxes, wolves, and many more.
They befriend a little human girl.
The human little girl wished she was a bird, but the little girl said that if she were to be a bird, she’d be locked in a cage.

‘Why? Why is that?’ We birds asked.
‘Humans. That’s why.’ Replied the little girl.
She said that she would have limited freedom.
She said that humans would control her ability to fly,
Humans would control where she would fly.
Even if she wanted to go the other direction.

‘Why would humans do such a terrible thing?’ We asked.
The little girl hung her head low, ‘Humans want to take advantage of others. They tie each other down. They cut off each other’s wings, and rip out their feathers so they cannot fly. They put each other in cages, where only they are in control of one’s freedom.’

Humans don’t fly as one. They never will. Not even in millions of years.
To be as one is something humans only hope to achieve. Something humans only dream of achieving something so simple.
Just because one is different, they are not treated the same.

Even birds are different.
Birds sing differently.
Some sing higher.
Some sing lower.
Some sing better than others.
Yet they sing in harmony.
Even though they are not the same, they treat each other the same.

Why can’t humans fly as one bird? Why do some have to fly lower and some fly higher?

Each day the little girl visits,
she has to be home by 5:00 PM.
Each time, before she leaves,
she says that she’ll come again the next day.

One day, she hadn’t returned.

Oh, how sad.

She was only just a bud, in a field of full grown flowers.
Yet they picked her for decoration.
Living decoration, never lives very long.

Oh, how sad.

She was only a bird,
that had her newly grown feathers, plucked.

Oh, how sad.

Just like a butterfly,
When those wings are broken or ripped,
They will vanish within the earth.
Becoming one with the earth.

Oh, how sad.

Children are supposed to fly. Not fall.
Children are supposed to grow. Not sink.
Children are supposed to be brought/taken under one’s wing. Not to have their wings stolen, so that one could fly higher.
They are supposed to be taught to help others fly. Not fall. To be taught to grow and not steal.

Oh, how sad.

Now we sit upon her rock, with her name engraved. Lobelia Anemone/Verbena Anemone.

Oh, how sad.

The raven, weeped the most.
The little girl and the raven were closer than others.

Oh, how sad.

The rock was covered in feathers and flowers, that was only left by the birds.

Oh, how sad.

They left flowers that were just like her name.
Other flowers were left too.

Oh, how sad.

You couldn’t be one with your kind. So now, you can be one with the earth.

Don’t worry dear child.
A bird doesn’t live very long.
We will see you soon again someday.

I am sorry.

Maybe one day, you are reborn as a raven.

Maybe one day, we could all fly together,
As one.

Maybe one day, we could all sing in harmony together,
As one.

Something a human could never achieve.

I am sorry, my dear friend.

If only you could fly.

I would be there.

I am sorry, my dear child.
A free verse and elegy poetry by me: Maderina Waruka
apricot Jun 12
She is my luck, my success
She is my purity, my hope.
She acts as my protection
and shields me from those
who hurt
she is my
beautiful
tiger lily.
TO MY BEST FRIEND LEICAAAAAAA I LOVEEE YOUUUUU
A little flower so pretty and bright
Bringing joy in the morning sun light
And it's truly a precious little sight
And with a smile and a gleam
And this little flower
A story of beauty yet to be told.
Flower 🌼 🌸 🌻
In a world full of trees, I'm a daisy.
I don't understand trees--what they see.

Yet I whisper secrets to the trees,
Make sure that nobody sees.

Then I dream of words like falling rain,
They wash me clean, but don't end the pain.
My teacher asked us to draw ourselves as trees. There were kids who drew: trunks, branches, willows and leaves. But I drew a Daisy. Surrounded by trees.
Entering the street, grasping as I sit
April 9th, firmly shut by thorns
Stitching patches from these soft-tone matches I’ve worn
Dress knitted, fire ignited

Daughter of Cornelia, guarded by Maria
Believed this area blossoms with wisteria
Roaming further, shedding quicker
As it gets colder, flowers covered in ice ***** her heart deeper

I labeled these flowers after your name
You were there to purify my name
I hope I have never trusted the fame
Now, all these cameras hunt the same

Papers fly, surrounding me as I kneel down
Kinfolks facing them with shields and swords, while I frown
Knock on the door, talking to her alone
Vines are sealing her golden tone

Castle paused its horologe
He picked me up with his caroche
With an aim to show me butterflies
Resisting any speculation to rise
Lance Remir May 19
I once called you
My most beautiful flower
The way you bloomed
Thriving with life and color
Twisting and spreading
But like all plants
They needed to survive
My heart was your soil
You took what you need
Until my love was drained
You died in my arms
And those thorns scarred me
I kept watering you desperately
But my tears weren't enough
Did you leave a seed for me
A bit of hope to bloom again
Or was this the last season
You grew with me
James May 19
a simple, pretty flower
stunning to the eye
is seldom not admired
by the people passing by

but secretly the flower
wishes they could see
its beauty is much deeper
than the normal eye can see

although the lonely flower
is admired all the time
it is always only noticed
for a short amount of time

no one seems to stay
for longer than a minute
no one seems to see
the beauty that's within it

so the flower always wonders
when the time will come
that it is truly noticed
not looked at only once

though the flower is beautiful
and pleasing to the eye
that beauty begins to fade
as the flower starts to die

for love and lust are different
they never feel the same
lust will always fail
and love will never fade
love is slow to anger
love will take its time
love is never boastful
love is always kind
love, like gold is rare
it's hard to try and find
love, like a flower is pretty
and always blooms on time

so don't you ever doubt
there's someone right for you
find someone who grows flowers
in the darkest parts of you
and when you find this person
who grows you to the clouds
your beauty will be noticed
and your heart will wear a crown
so please don't lose your faith
your love will bloom in time
you'll be loved in full, my dear
and true love is divine
...
..
..
two lines are taken from the song "sun to me" by Zach Bryan
Heidi Franke May 18
Vibration of light
From the flower Moon
Like buttered tulip
Melting inside
Dancing between my joints
Weaving a river in my blood
A yellow only flowers would know
Moving like honey-milk
To a temperature just right
Breeding wave by invisible wave
As you set far south west
Before anyone knows
You left behind your pollen of hope.
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