Meet me among the numbing fields
where the cream narcissus grows.

Where my desperate human voice sings
against the flow of the autumn winds.

Do you hear the pillars of my empathy crumbling?

The wicked Imbolc has passed,
leaving me naked and sick in the light
of longer days.

Yellow-trumpeted blooms of each joss flower
are caught swaying to the emptying sounds
of my apathy.

Where I have been patiently waiting for
the flowering blood of hyacinth.

He is a talking flower with lips
made of curving petals.

Begging to hold his hand - which is a lovely saturation of pollen - is my unknown sunset quietly falling over him.

I never knew I wanted so deeply to feel him, now there seems to exist a safety within my thoughts I never knew possible.

In a way that is purely fantasy,
he spins the world so fast I’ve fallen off it.

Even when he walks he dances,
allowing me to slowly rotate in the vortex of his spirit.

How could I ever show him...

How could I ever let him see,
how he is the sinking throat
of dawn blessing me with vision,
and the medicine of my now fading paranoia.

You bloom like the shining sun
Amidst the waters of impure mud
Spreading beauty and hope for all
Blossoming from that little bud.

You are the manifestation of purity
You symbolize God
You represent will-power
You are the floral lord.

Filled with magnificence
Oh! How beautiful you look
Your glory lies in your simplicity
The way your petals bloom

In midst of these still waters blue and black
Beneath this infinite sky
Looking at those endless stars
Like a lone hermit, you enlighten my mind.

Crystals of flowers sit on the side of the road
I walk past them, how pretty. Shining still, at night.
They glow and gleam and tell me to come for them
I come for you, only you

What an experience was pink, glitters and gold.
All I saw were of me, the past and the present
orbiting the stars, how could I have not known
I dream and look up, see the moon crescent

A picture hanging on the wall, a desk and two black curtains
falling down to the floor;
The full moon hides behind rainbow clouds,
stories of that yesterdays' sun
written
metal sounds
and two drops of heavy dew.

... Sighs ...

I was circling your thoughts,
they were mine
to wonder about
and make them shine
all the way
through the spirals of our times.

... wishful sighs ...

A picture hanging on the wall, a flower on the desk,
two black curtains falling down
and up the full moon staring...
An almost hidden by rainbow clouds
love for that yesterdays' sun...

The two drops of heavy dew
are reflecting into the floor.

© All rights Reserved Theodora Oniceanu

you're my sunflower,
more so than her,
you bloom with beaming pride,
your petals reflect the tide,
your heart bright yellow,
dancing in the meadow.

-lilac

I am not the blithering, sad poet type.
With a foundation comprised
of bone dust,
brittle petals crumbling
at the first sign of danger.

Think of me
Fondly and fiercely
as Persephone's flower
Dreaming tenderly
upon a case of
aging dynamite.

- Rhiannon || Yeti Youngblood

stepped on
was the flower,
little did she know
she could grow back
and maybe become even more
graceful than she already was.