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Bea Rae Feb 9
Withered and broken

I long to be the flower

Blossoming with ease
I saw Heaven hanging over my head like a chandelier, it's
angels were swimming in the light, whispering sweet hymns,—
in a kaleidoscope filled with broken dreams.
The gates fell open like a strand of hair, trumpets were blaring for kings, with thrones like rocking chairs, of my ancestors and their heirs. On earth, I had cattle trodding around my heart to pay for love; as dowry couldn't pay enough for who I once loved.
I drank the tears of Heaven's rains, to tie my tithes wrapped
around my neck; waiting for their fortunes reigns.

I kissed an angel that melted my lips, and had suckled on the ******* of mother nature, who fed me milk and honey to keep me alive. I danced around the edge of an end, where life begins once again. My toes felt cold as a tear drop lost in snow,— my ears were ringing like the church carillon, calling me to repent.
And from the stained glass window frames, it all immediately painted out my pain.

I thought of you, just before I took my last breath, begging the favours from the mistress of Death. I felt like a flower in your hand; each petal being picked away, asking the question of,
"does she love me or love me not." I thought of being holy enough to fit in your heart, but I was as holey as the holes in my socks. My prayers all stunk of the lie behind them all. I looked into your eyes to see heaven inside, as I was living in the world.
I bit on time to have it for seconds, and served a dish of revenge only in my heart,— I was taught it will always be a cold meal; so
I'd use my spark of love to keep it warm. I shared stories with
the world, told my biggest secrets to the sky, and left
breadcrumbs to them, in every word of my poems. the chaos of my mind, lied a still river flowing with worth. Drowning myself in your eyes, as your every tear was the inspiration of what became our story. But I know in the end, our love will just be another person's story...
Nyx Jan 9
Honeysuckles blooming
In the harsh summer heat
Luring the butterflies near
All eager to eat

Honey-like nectar
An alluringly tender treat
I wonder if those lips will taste
As irresistibly sweet

Vines creeping and trailing
Covering me from head to toe
lacing into the divets of my skin
Choking me slow

A beading drop of honey
Gliding gently on my tongue
Soft fragrance lingers
All from when we were young

He is entangled in my soul
Just a taste
My Dear Poet Nov 2023
She wasn’t everything she wanted
so in her soul she moulded
a figure of someone else

Till her inner being went bleeding
along a lonely road of longing  
yearning for herself

Then there came along a flower
from an Ivy **** upon a tower
that wove her name with love

and upon this sight and seeing
it’s beauty won her heart and healing
“If that’s me, then me is enough”.
It’s been awhile. I hope you enjoy.
The little
flower was
safe from
the winds
of the world,
then, the days
sprouted her
body upwards
to the sky,
she found
it tiresome
to grow while
the poet
of the world
painted the
to green,
finally, she
can gently
sing for the
clouds as
life became
greater in
color and
until the
white blanket
of heaven
takes her,
and, she
is reborn
in some
other time
and place.
Lily Priest Nov 2023
Her heart could heal
the heather,
Even in the colder weather's grip -
snapping the bony, brittle twigs
And sparkling sharply on abandoned leaves -
She could find her ease
On the downy carpet of the diseased,
Gather their lost limbs
Like a forgiveness-
That warm welcome of forget.
She could rest her head,
And bloom,
Bright blossom gazing up at the moon
More often than the sun,
Her fire blazing on -
A little hearth, among the heather
Warming roots in the
Colder months.
Kyla Nov 2023
She was a bright red rose in the field of dandelions
Reminding me there is no need for compliance
The shimmer of her petals drew people from afar
They shinned brighter than any evening star
For a ***** on the finger left them in fear
Why was she like this?
All alone
So afraid
That is when I got brave and came to her aid
Only to find she needed no upgrade
She was bright
She was brave
She was light
She forgave
And no one could take that away
She was a bright red rose in the field of dandelions
Reminding me there really is no need for compliance
Reimers Oct 2023
Wandering through a field of flowers,
Petals sway with each gentle breeze,
Only to stumble and embrace the rich soil,
A purple rose to my face, respectfully bowing to it.

Its vibrant purple hue set it apart from the rest,
I was entranced by the way it stood out,
So I knelt down and offered it to dance,
Carefully plucking it from the ground.

The purple rose swayed like a graceful dancer,
As if it were the one controlling the wind's rhythm,
I met an extraordinary partner in this floral waltz,
I lift it above my head, and it twinkled with delight.

What if I let the wind carry you to the sky?
I released the rose, and it vanished from sight,
As darkness enveloped the deep blue sky above,
Only to reveal the moon, with a twinkling star beside it.

Front row seats to admire its beauty,
A hidden gem, beneath all this earthly rubble,
Who knew you'd ascend so high,
Flamboyant and shining ever so bright.

The soil is not where you truly belong,
For it has hindered your growth for so
To stand out, high above, with that radiant glow,
Is what you've always deserved to know.
I never stopped writing.
Phia Oct 2023
I’ve resorted to making wishes on dandelions
For miracles
I know
Will never come
Odd Odyssey Poet Sep 2023
Cobwebs in my eyes;
how to see the world- old and dusty
My love is bit rusty, to even attempt
to steal a heart- a metal mouth speaking,
I spoke of how it felt to be made of gold,
well at least in the eyes of calling something mine

But yes I dug those many trenches,
and stuck a pole that stood as a reminder to it all
And I eventually gained the skill to write out what's
on my mind in secret- a constant mental note

In a distance so far away from myself,
striking a deal with the covers over my heart
A wet blanket; crying under the fabric
of it, to hide away those many tears from the world
I must have been a rose; well at least once before,
but sometimes the roses are still trying to find themselves,
a meaning, an identity, a cause, and a reason to grow

Tell me if you've ever felt like a beautiful flower,
though none of their eyes seem to see such beauty
In an unclear sight; overlooked by those you love,
                  -a story of all the world' blurry flowers
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