Flowers on the ground for my lover
Once were blooming in the garden
From now it’ll be with her
There you’re lying in the dirt

The hands to wipe the tears
The laugh I love to hear
The smile so bright to cheer
The soul to lose, I fear

I know you’re near
And will always be here

Though I’ve lost you in this world.


Rest in peace, my dear
linhp 9h

it's okay to cry
to let the tears water the seed of love
that he has planted in your heart
watch it grow into a garden
and decorate your soul.

Broadsky 12h

It was May of 2015, we decided to start a garden. The things we grew, carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, green beans, green cabbage, the only two things we could not grow was that damn red cabbage and our love between us. Now its January of 2018 and our garden has withered away to sticks and dirt and our love isn't much better off either.

We've been over for almost 3 years.

Where I thought
My soul was bare
You cultivated a garden
And hope grew there
Now I am flourishing
With the fruits of your labor
I don’t know how it happened
But you've brought me here

Bryden 3d

In Grandma’s garden,
the sun has swum to the middle of the sky,
and sits amongst smudges of white.
Relaxing, its breathes heat onto the grass,
which bathes until it is crisp.
A warm breeze caresses the treetops,
their leaves gently swaying to the rhythm of July.
As the evening draws in,
the sun floats down like a deflated balloon,
and the moon rises proudly to welcome the night,
where crickets begin to chirp and chatter,
under its pearly white light.
The pebbles on the deck start to cool
after cooking in the rays of the fourteen-hour day.
The rest of the garden is patient and still
as it waits for the sun to greet it again.

In Grandma’s garden,
the sun is running late to rise,
cautiously poking its head into cloud-stained skies.
The trees, desperate for their sap not to slow,
are set alight by rebellious leaves before they undress.
A shower of crisp brown parachutes fall,
a carpet of copper awaiting them all.
Night sends up her pale crescent moon,
breathing in the smell of decay.
It spills a chilly mist over the garden,
a spell to send nature fast asleep,
getting harder each day from which to wake.

In Grandma’s garden,
the sun has overslept.
The robin’s eight o’clock call drags it from its slumber
as it trudges through the thick cloud plastered above.
Skeletons of trees stand lonely,
no leaves to cover their timbered bones.
They reach up towards the faded sun,
hiding within sombre grey skies.
Droplets of dew dangle from the grass like crystal baubles,
and before you know it, the sun is yawning once more.
The night arrives,
its icy breath crisping the grass.
The wind whistles a sheet of frost onto the garden,
as nature is left to shiver and shake.

The sun rises curiously today,
welcomed by Grandma’s garden,
proudly clothed in a robe of green.
It no longer wakes in a lonely silence,
but is instead greeted by a chorus of new life.  
Bitter frost is replaced with a sweet dew,
and the soil is free to breath once more.
Drowsy flowers yawn as they come to attention,
their heads soaking up the sun’s new-born rays.
The old oak whistles to the wind’s new tune,
making the daffodils stand-up and swoon.
The sun kisses the clouds as it begins to pour,
tears of joy for Grandma’s garden,
alive and flourishing once more.

I tied up an eight-foot hydrangea
before the rains
when the air was humid
with butterflies
wafting through bright sunlight.

Under the canopy
of twisted branches
delicate stems
each one a garden
of brightest blue.

A thousand butterflies
shining on me.

© 2012 Verlie Burroughs

A moment in the garden.
Crystal Freda Jan 12

Roses unfold
millions and millions
that it seems.
A garden untold
of gorgeous flowers
and petals and leaves.
Red, yellow, and pink
scattered all around,
bright colors welcomed
as you lay and think
while petals settle.

austin Jan 11

roses are red
violets are blue
glad my fate doesn't belong to you
marigolds are orange
daffodils are yellow
if you truly knew me you wouldn't be so mellow
daylilies are green
my rose has crumbled black
i hope you find the genuine love you lack

be careful what gets into your garden. protect it and plant the right plants
Polka Jan 10

Take a flower,
Keep it with you all day.
It will wilt away.
Take a flower,
Hold it close to your chest.
One day, you know,
I will have to rest.

But my garden remains
You're welcome any day
But you can't stay, no,
No, you cannot stay.

Take a weed,
You can hold it for a moment.
Throw it away,
That's the agreement.
Take a weed,
Don't think on it too long.
Please, you know,
Not to dwell on the past.

And my garden remains.
You can come in any day.
I appreciate the help, I do,
I do,
But you cannot stay,
You can't stay, no,
Please don't stay.

Take a memory,
Keep it with you all day,
Take a memory,
Then throw it away.
You can always,
Dig back for it.
But don't keep it,
Don't keep it,
For more than a day.

My garden remains.
You're welcome any day,
But you cannot stay.
You cannot stay.

You cannot stay,
In the garden, In the garden,
You cannot stay,
Because that's where I live.
You cannot stay,
In the garden, In the garden,
You cannot stay.

But I wish you would stay.

this is more of a song than a poem rip

Son of Raurus falling sound
King of water all around
That fills the sky with dew

The fractals of these waters high
Climbing down to meet the tide
Sweetly in November rain

Eroded tongues that stick on out
To catch the falling endless spout
Even in still of winter blend

These rocks that climb up rung by rung
Forever climbing to the sun
To greet the morning light

The endless water ever falls
Enormous water-winged wall
Wetting all that pass on by

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