Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Weeping man,  
all alone,  
reading text  
upon his phone.  

No eye contact,  
no face to face—  
her distant words  
lacking grace.  

Flowers dumped  
in public vase;  
intended ring  
reflects his face.  

He walks away  
to numb the pain,  
mixing bourbon  
and weak *******.  

To lap of love  
with plastic gold—  
a stranger’s flesh  
he needs to hold.  

Broken dreams,  
an empty bed;  
missing wallet,  
pounding head.  

Drunken walk,  
lacking grace,  
finding flowers  
in public vase.  

Weeping man,  
all alone,  
walks the street  
miles from home.  

By Darren Wall ©
Erenn 5d
He gave her orchids, not roses, not flame—
But quiet things, with roots that cling
To silent bark, and bloom in shade—
The way he loved, unseen.

She smiled like spring, but loved like wind,
Passing through without regret.
He stayed like dusk, holding the light,
Even as the sun forgets.

The others brought tangerines, bright and sweet,
Sun-kissed and easy to hold—
But he only offered orchids, slow to bloom,
In a language too patient, too old.

She never saw how he watered hope,
In a garden she never walked.
How he learned to speak her silences,
And answered when she never talked.

He watched her dance with summer hearts,
Each one burning out too soon—
Yet still, he kept the orchids near,
Blooming beneath a winter moon.

No final scene, no curtain fall,
No music swelled, no kiss—
Just him and orchids, year by year,
Tending love that she won’t miss.

Despite all this, always smiling
His love for her, unwavering.



Erennwrites
"They say you need countless lifetimes of fate to meet even once in this life. If you miss it when it brushes past, that’s the end.”
Inspired from When Life Gives You Tangerines.
Celestial and spritely flower head
A cloud of white in a wheel
A spread of stars on a sunny bed
Enchanting - a vision ethereal
Blooming afar and clustering nigh
What bud, what blossom, what ****
Blowing away with just a sigh
In a breath, in the wind that breathes.
While the rose is crowned and daisies loved
How often are you brushed away
But magic lies in your snowy fluff
As wishes fly night and day
You greet the morning, a languid dawn
As the skies turn pink and bright
Then gather close with the moon's rising song
That plays with the coming of night
A fairy's flower you seem to me
A joy - a charm - a delight
Flying away over meadows and leas
In the wind with your wings of white.
Debbie Apr 4
Towering cotton white orchids.
Splattered with a purple hue,
like fresh pooled blood stains.  
If death had occured,
the orchids are oblivious
and unapologetically vain.  
Bizarre and exotic.  
Petals plush and ******.  
The orchid's eye bores into me and see,
me writhing in the broken chrysalis  
of my massacred dreams.  
The orchids know that all
is not what it seems......
Even in the most dire of times
the cost of hope is free......
They whisper, emerge...
and tower tall and unique,
like the beauty of me......
I'm fascinated by orchards. Bizarre and exotic.
neth jones Apr 3
lilly white lies           
patterned in the dirt
             hoof trodden
haiku inspired
Debbie Apr 1
The buds anxiously wait to burst through
warmer, softer ground.
They sprout like a secret lacking sound.
First signs of spring and the excited joy they bring.
Accompanied by joyous melodies the birds do sing.
Robin's, dressed in their red breast, hop everywhere.
A sky saturated blue, provokes a happy hypnotic stare.
The sun's soft spring heat shines on the thick, smooth buds.
Sometimes what is fragile is at the same time tough.
And renewal of earth and heart is abundantly enough.
So many great poets on here, I'm glad I joined.
rhenee rose Apr 1
Burning incessantly like a rabid fire,
As I stand and reign in this colossal tower,
With no soulmate in sight, not in any hour.

Though in this land, I am beaming with power,
My words get sharpened like a lethal dagger,
Valiant and rigid, expect me not to cower.

Somehow, somewhere, a shadow drew closer,
I thought to myself, what a daring wanderer!
And then welcomed him with a raging saber.

Day after day, ambushed him into crossfires,
My traps and theatricals never seem to expire;
Yet despite all these, he just found me lovelier.  

With him, I have learned to enjoy the flowers,
For he filled me with such devotion and desire;
The kind of love to cherish and admire.
A poem about how love is more than able to break down emotional walls.
MetaVerse Mar 31
March spring showers—
Thunder and lightning—
Hail pummels flowers—
March spring showers
Shower for hours—
Gradually whitening
March spring showers—
Thunder and lightning—
We venture into the storm
Against my better judgment
(I’m ready to go home)

The wind kicks up
And a thousand
No
A million flower petals
Swirl around us frenetically.
Great beasts of raw, hungry light snap their jaws
Not so far away

You aren’t scared,
Your curls wild in the dark.
The storm, you say.
The storm, Mama!

The sirens, now,
And the rain,
And so many flower petals.

We turn and head back inside
To wait a little longer.
MetaVerse Mar 29
Wintertime's hoarfrost, ice and rime
Have gone; departed hath the Gloom.
Make haste, ye maids, in Lilac Time:
Collect your Blossoms whilst they bloom.
What blooms today soon fades away:
Gather ye Lilacs while ye may,
Sith times, like Flying Saucers, zoom,
And if you lose your chance to pick
The best, you'll choose a lesser ****.
Next page