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Flowers are different. Just like us.
They all have different shapes, but that's what makes them special.
They shine so brightly, in different colors.
They have uniquely shaped petals.
They possess captivating qualities.
And each have their own story, all just like us.

Our stories begin and end the same,
Yet we're all so different from each other.
Every person you see, a friend, colleague, even a stranger.
They all have their stories.

Some flowers live in remotely good environment, others had to fight to survive.
There's also flowers which are well liked for their appearances,
while others get overlooked because they're "unattractive."

Dandelions go far and wide,
Meanwhile mimosa's stay in the same place, although they have potential.
Sunflowers take the easy road, they rely on birds to spread their seeds.
Lotus flowers stay to what they know best.
All just like us.

Sakura blooms are fragile, they die easily,
Cacti have learnt to live independently, without anyone else,
Both die without proper care in the end,
One is just quicker than the other.

We all grow, we all wither, yet our stories live on,
Just like the flowers, always finding a way to bloom again,
Whether quick to bloom or slow to grow,
We all find our place under the same sky,
Reaching for the light.
"Hi Deona. Wow - I really enjoyed reading your poem. You’ve crafted such a thoughtful and heartfelt piece that beautifully explores the theme of diversity and human experience through the metaphor of flowers. It’s clear you’ve put genuine emotion and reflection into every stanza. It is a sincere piece with a strong voice. Keep writing and don’t be afraid to experiment even more with rhythm, line breaks, and poetic devices. I’m really proud of you." My heart broke.
May is the month of Mary
May is the month of love
May is the month of all flowers
May is the month of all Mothers.

Let's celebrate all Mothers
Those who are poor and are living in huts
Those who are rich with fake eyelids
Those who are small with high heels
Those who are lofty in a giant pair of trousers
Those who are educated, stylish and sophisticated
Those who live sadly in the street corners
Those who worship the ****** Mary
Those who mourn, pray and smile.

May is the month of Mary
May is the month of love
May is the month of Mothers
May is the month of all flowers.

Let's celebrate All Moms
Those who bathe in the pond of misery
Those who wander hopelessly the streets
Those who are discouraged and disappointed
Those who toil every day
Those who practice love
Those who need to be rescued
Those who mimic the styles of Mary
Those who kneel, sing and laugh.

May is the month of Mary
May is the month of love
May is the month of all Moms
May is the month of the all mums.

Copyright © May,2016 Logerie Hébert, All rights reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.

Goldfinches
And dandelions compete
For yellowest yellow.

“The house is full of cards and flowers.
On the dinner table, the tv-stand, the kitchen counter.
The cards are taped to the door.
You don’t get to see them,
but they all mention you.

The house is full of flowers.
Big ones and small ones.
They bloom now that spring’s here.
All different colours and shapes.
You can’t smell them anymore.

Your picture is on the shelf.
A radiant smile against the grey.
You’re with them again.

The house is full of flowers and cards.
All addressed to me,
while they’re meant for you.”

A.V.
When grief addresses you with “Condolences” and brings flowers.
Maria Etre May 14
In the midst
of a morning walk
I followed a trail
of purple
flowers
fallen
and ripe
that led me to
the mother tree
who has grown
heavy
with too much
beauty to carry
Ashrafieh, is a magical place in Beirut, Lebanon. It has those purple floral trees who decorate not only its appeal but also the streets after they have fallen.
It has a certain feel to it, when you see them, you feel the cusp of summer that will flood the city with heat, but yet in the midst of everything has hit the ground, there's so much beauty to the fallen.
Ellie Hoovs May 10
In the hush beneath powerlines,
through fractured stones,
no gardener knelt to bless them.
No springtime choir sang.
Still, golden heads rose,
leaning towards the shadowed light,
the kind filtered by clouds
like a half-remembered memory,
or a lullaby hummed to a ghost.
Roots thread through ruin,
tasting rust,
sipping rain
that fell before the world began.
They were never meant to be here.
And yet
yellow ablaze in the rubble.
A flicker. A flare.
The petaled armor of hope
unfurled against battle-smoked skies
as if the world exhaled
and breathed them into being.
Life is here,
Then it's not,
One small portion of time,
It's all we've got.
You find things you like,
People too,
I found you.
No second chances,
No time to make up lost dances,
Or even a simple second,
To appreciate what you have.
I blinked,
Then October turned to spring,
Easter flowers came just in time this year,
I can only give them 86 more chances,
To reappear.
It's not enough
Elaine C Apr 30
when i die,
i refuse to be a nameless grave
marked by a chunk of stone
in the earth

when i die,
i want flowers to be planted
over where i lay
so new life may grow from me

when i die,
i wish to be neat and pretty
a contrast to how i've been in life
frenetic and disorganised

when i die,
will i be remembered?
or will memories of me fade too soon?
and i will turn to dust
we will all slowly turn to dust
i do not wish for my life to be meaningless while i live it but if i do nothing of meaning in life, maybe my death can be full of meaning.
Emery Feine Apr 30
Oh, April, you have taught me how to live again.
I’ve watched the magnolia tree outside my room
Slowly blossom in your presence
The heat of the sun
Like fireflies on my skin
Lighting up the day

Oh, April, you have taught me to love again
I’ve made a new friend
I have something to live for again
Something to love for
Though I’m young
Though we aren’t far apart in age
I want to protect him
Like a son
My son

Oh, April, I fear I had forgotten the delight of your presence
Raindrops flowering on the ground
Flowers raining down on me
I can love again; my heart has thawed
What am I, if not alive?
and i dont want to mess it up for once
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