JAC 15h
You outgrew me
and I didn't mind

I grew at my own pace
and later left you behind.
circling overhead and
passing through thick clouds
and blue skies,
the shadows of flowers
overturn like a sun-dial
until the rain of agony
will intercept and
hasten on falling petals
and we will decide
to pick the day that
the blossoms of purity
will come to a diminishing
end.

the crunch of the stem
will roll and twist
between the fore finger
and the thumb
and the baby’s head
will pop off and flail
through the winds of
enduring sadness and
carry their spirit away

the brokenhearted will pollinate
their unending sorrow and pain
onto those most virtuous and
wholesome

their wrath will spread like floodwaters

they want others to feel the same
remorse
that they feel

they will hold onto their burdens
and impediments
like a security blanket

and pull the wings off angels like flies

the decay of emotions will wilt
like a dried up sunflower patch

their minds will be tormented into submission

their hearts will wither with misery and guilt

their happiness will dilute into black waters

their loneliness will be spent on the snails back

their speeches will be packed with pestilence

it will be easier to spit in the eye
than to cordially say hello

it will be easier to hurt, maim, kill
than to passionately love

flesh will ornament the streets
and the gutters will run with
the red rivers of the living and
the bones will be ground up
into powder and
false education will fulfill the
peaceful slumber of dreams
with violence and infamy
blood will splatter on the
decorative towels
murder will garnish
the thought process
the raving mad will defile
the wall of virgin souls
with phallic graffiti
cruelty will remain heavy under
the defenseless children’s eyes
all because we simply cannot be
decent to each other.

and it’s sad....
it’s sad enough
because
it’s happening,
it’s happening right now
and there are several
other ways to coincide
with one another
but we don’t, we just
take the easy disposition

and for what?

for power
for greed
for lust
for vengeance
for no serious reason

but in the dim light of everything
the sea levels will continue
to rise and fall
under the aesthetic moon

and the blazing sun will continue
to shine all over the cold tundra
of hatred from people.

can you remember
when you had that
gentle,
modest,
natural innocence
before the erosion
of the world
stripped it away?
I hugged a tree
And asked for guidance
The tree whispered

It is not the outside that matters
Only inside
Enter the altar in your heart
Suffused
with the fragrance of love
Light the lamp of silence
Bask in the beauty
Of
Yellow butterflies

Scoop it all up
The light, the love and beauty
And sprinkle it all around
with each word, smile and action
On people, animals and the stars
On the sun and babies
And on the waves and clouds
On toothless grandmas
And little flowers
Keep on and on and on
Living and giving

In that sublime temple
Of God
This creation.
Rachel 2d
i received a bouquet on sunday.
with scarlet carnations, ruby-coloured roses,
calla lilies, a single red tulip
a few clovers scattered haphazardly along the sides
and a velvet ribbon tied to the right
a postcard was attached

i sent back an anemic yellow carnation.
I’m in a bit of a situation
There seem to be weeds blooming all across my face
The weeds are red
They are blooming all aross my cheeks
All across my forehead and chin
and even some buds on my nose
I don’t like the weeds
And neither does anyone else
I’ve tried everything to get them go away
but nothing works, and they’ll always stay
these weeds make me sad
oh so sad
and now my tears just water these weeds
I refuse to show the world these hideous red weeds
i have been taught to hate the unwanted
and to strive for perfection
but perfection is something i’ve never known
so for the moment i cannot make these red weeds disappear
and from now on i’ll stop quenching their thurst with my tears
for now all i can do is love them
love these red weeds that cover my face
and hope that one day i’ll find someone who can love them too.
just a poem about acne, because i’m struggling with it and when i feel sad, i write about it.
sara 3d
Beyond the sea, a white rose stands
outside a vase, away from hands.
Too pretty for a picture frame,
a large bouquet, or window pane.

Still growing, life is hers to gain:
the warmth of sun, the cooling rain,
the water droplets, oxygen;
beauty flourishes best with space.

A trademark warmth she wears so well
like sun rays on a daffodil.
She laughs like shamrock by the well,
as infectious as a breeze among bluebells.

I see the child inside your cries of joy, behind your smiles at boys.
Beneath the skies, above the noise.
You breathe in life, and it's all yours.
infectious laughter is like the breeze in a field of bluebells haha   
****
Birthdays are a time to celebrate life
I did nothing
I said nothing

They were laughing
You were watching

The less I loved myself
The more I faced the taunts towards myself

My dejection,
Became your entertainment

My cries,
Made you to smile

I hate myself for liking you
I loathe myself more for telling you

My cards were slapped on my face
The fragile flowers I gave you, made you feel disgraced

Breaking the heart of a peasant is no big deal for you, even I know that

What did those flowers every did to you, I never understood that

I returned home, feeling detached from my own emotions

Didn't actually felt bad for my heart or the things you said and did

But felt bad for destroying those beauty

Everyone and everything in your life teaches you something..

This was my lesson to learn
From you

I don't know why I never loved myself,

Maybe because my eyes are too dark or my hair too short

Maybe my cheeks are too puffy
Maybe my skin is too dark

Maybe because I'm too loud and weird, for everyone around

Maybe I'm too boyish Or too frank,

Maybe it's my thinking that let it be later it'll be all right

Maybe it's my patience that makes me think that you'll change one day

But those flowers,
What was wrong with them?

They were simply beautiful,
Yes, I agree, some petals on the flowers were not equal to each other

Every petal was different from the other,
Some flowers were in perfect shape and some where beautiful in colour

Look closely,
Every petal is formed within the flowers with each other,

Each flowers are born from the very ground beneath us,

Their veins connected to each other

Some were different from eachother but all were the same

Maybe it's same with humans also,
Everyone is literally the same thing,

But a little difference made us completely different from eachother,

Why should I not love myself?

I can scream louder than anyone,

My slangs, stand out from everyone around

Anyone who knows me, realises I have arrived due to my nest like hair

Everyone I know is honest with me and honestly I like it that way

So why don't I love myself?

The more I found the positive things about myself, the more I started to love myself

You and your friends were trying to make fun of me,
For saying my heart's desire

I made fun of myself in front of you, and said, everyone does stupid things once in a while

Your friend said, you're a tomboy, you're way to boyish
You should wear skirt and keep your hair long

I said, I do know that and I like it that way
Skirts and long hair is not my thing, probably it'll suit you

You said that I've changed
I said, Really, how so?

The bell rung, I went to class,
Now when I actually think about it,
I never got an answer from you!

But frankly I don't care,
We all are flowers born from the ground beneath us,

We may look different, but we've got the same veins connecting us to each other

___
Violet Calla Lilly
I walked by in the dark
Dizzying scent
We are but simply flowers
- Jack Gordan
And when I planted
Your best loved flowers on your grave,
I knew I missed you.
And every time I see a bouquet of tulips, I secretly hope it's from you to me.

© Semicolon
M 4d
Locks and chains couldn't keep the rain
from seeping beneath the doors,
leaking through the window panes and
ruining the hardwood floors.

But once the rain subsided
and the gray gave way to blue,
the sun shone through those dusty panes
and in this house, a garden grew.
the crimson of a rose
in the air
leaving on a cold winter day
in old pots
on old tables
spilling its petals

onto the hallways and little rooms of sunlight.


do the churches lead somewhere divine?
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