Alaska 2h

Don't pick me flowers from a garden,
give me seeds to plant my own.

she's the type of girl
to give you your
favorite flowers
then stomp on
them before
handing them
to you

once again a poem ab a fake friend

Moonlit trees of stars
Near a calm and still rivers
Flowers for ripples

Poem by Lyn-Purcell

rain like teardrops fall
into the maddest storm
hydrangeas stand tall

or perhaps she is crying
somewhat along the dark skies
hydrangeas are grieving

but her heart remained still
through all the time passed
she wont let herself to kneel

for what makes her grow
is the bitter taste of where she sow
strong acid break her veins
but it wouldn't stop her reign


Sitting together hand in hand
under an old oak tree,
sweet spicy scents fill the air
wild roses, heliotrope and lilies.

The bright colors of foxglove
growing on the banks of a stream,
lovely is the glow of water
casted by sunlit beams.

A quiet whisper of love
so soft within my ear,
touches my heart tenderly
of love you speak so dear.

The lightest of a finger trace
a skim of knuckles over skin,
leaving a burning trail of desire
shivers my soul deep within.

Together hand in hand
under triumphant blooming trees,
scents of sweet and sweeps of color
wild roses, heliotrope and lilies…..

© 2017 Brianna Love/SA/DBMA

amalia 12h

I am a butterfly.....
He is a stone....

I like how beautiful all the flowers..
I like to fly around cause my wings are strong and beautiful..

He accept the moss to stay on his body..
He doesn't know how to move
He is too heavy for his own heart

He likes to watch me dancing in the air

He is there, He is stay...

When my wings are broken
When i'm no longer could fly

He is there, He is stay still..

He accept me to lay on his heavy heart..

"What’s she like?"
She’s like a summer storm—smack, boom—and then the heavens break and she surrounds you and you can’t help but dance.

"No, what does she look like?"
She looks like moonlight and meadow flowers, like breathless laughter through a silent house.

"But is she hot?"
Fire is hot and she is a supernova. Smoke stings, but she—
she is suffocating.

Giggling blossoms
Pink and sweet and white and pure
Rain petals of love

© Poem by Lyn-Purcell.

It was a strange word on my lips
Staring at the beautiful blue stalk
"One dollar a stem" the sign said
The way it rolls of the tongue when you talk
One buck out, I headed back
To the place I stayed alone
It was too quiet, empty, and sterile
But it sure as hell beat staying home

I placed the little mourning stalk
In the place that she used to sit
She and I never really looked or talked
But somehow, her absence is amiss
So I took a plastic water cup
And those flowers of the evening sky
And in that hospital, like room
I would sit and ponder why

And though I felt alone
And isolated from it all
That drooping stem of delphinium
Made the room feel a little more calm

Because I knew things weren't
Perfect as they stood
But between this and my house
I'd stay forever if I could
But stay forever I could not
I had only one week left
So I buckled down, goal in mind
To make it the best week yet

Delphinium- the name of lonliness
The sound of wonder and fear
The word of friendship and adventure
Oh how I wish you were here

Just a memory from Gov school.

She was a flower, blooming from soil,
shivering in the wind, and wilting in the cold.

She died every time he was not there.

And he was a butterfly, the colours of the world
painted on his wings, glowing in the sunlight.

He was a butterfly who wanted to hear his wings down.

I love butterflies and flowers.
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