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There once was a meadow
It made me feel mellow
So I said hello,
From the other side.
The side of darkness and despair
The carcass of a dead hare
I never used to care
About the the flowers that were there
Ciel Mar 2016
I envy you,
You, who has their future
all planned out
between the pages of the calendar
that’s been hanging on your wall
since December 31st,
changing every year with no delay
because you already know
all the important dates.

I envy you,
You, who has a dream,
the same dream you’ve had
since childhood
that’s changed or been tweaked
maybe once or twice
but that always becomes clearer.

I envy you,
You, who understands yourself
and who knows who ‘you’ are,
who understands your passions
and who knows what you want.

I envy you,
You, who knows what happiness is like,
and who has felt true sadness and despair
only a handful of times,
but who knows how to deal with it
and knows why it comes by.

I envy you,
While I sit here surrounded
by my sadness,
getting a glimpse of joy
maybe once over the weekend
and another if I wake up for sunrise.

While I sit here not knowing
who ‘I’ am
or what I love
or the emotions I feel.

While I sit here
without a dream in mind,
without a goal that I can run toward
Only sitting in a dark empty field
with no calendar in sight
because thinking about the days
that pass makes me feel empty inside.

So instead I sit here
on this bus full of people
that feels so empty and bleak.
While the fog from outside
clings to the windows
and blurs the thoughts in my mind,
thinking about ‘you’
and my envy
so green and so vast
it could be mistaken
for a meadow filled with grass.

I think about how I would
trade my life for yours.
But my mind disapproves
because then I would be
even less like the ‘me’
than I believe myself to be.

I know who I am because of
the emptiness I have
and for now it’s enough
and that’s all I need.

So instead I will sit here
and think of the many reasons why
I envy you.
It's been a while since I've posted.
Some parts of this poem I find a bit odd, constructive criticism is welcome.
BB Tyler Jan 2016
"don't follow me."
and she walked solemn from the field
to the forest
tree by tree deeper

I stood still a long time
longer still as she receded
and in my mind I saw her go
again and again
meadow all about my ankles
the wind
brushing my thighs with
the seed-tops of wild grasses
so dead yellow
so slightly green in the recent spring

Above the sky
stars in every direction
saw the whole thing
and said nothing

She and I were not to meet again.

I built my home there from
fallen branches at the meadow-edge,
and though I never knew the deep lush of those woods
my life in some way followed her
thru the tree shadows
and even now
is resting on her shoulder
as she sits by a
sylvan pool
quiet
while I thru
cloud patterns
witness deep space

the crickets singing
sage short Nov 2015
Not easy to walk through a
meadow full of flowers
when they look dead
and it's as if you can see the
bones of the dead
reaching for the sunshine
that the daises aren't sharing
as I collapse towards the graves
part of me wishing to be a flower
and the other wishing I was
colds stone with some skull and bones
with my smile washed away
but roots of nature growing in me
my tears becoming lost in
the ground
because the flowers need it
but I need to stop feeling like
a dull piece of grass
I need to be a flower
but I'm just going to be
another sad story
lost in the dirt
that the flowers need to thrive
and another lost soul
will kick me around
but we all end the same
and we'll all breathe the same
dirt one day
and it won't be easy to walk through
a meadow full of flowers
when they look dead
Wade Lancaster Sep 2015
When I slumber I dream in color of a meadow by a brook
a sweet bird on a branch of a tree so tall it kisses the sun
in a sky of vivid blues, red, yellow and a hint of orange
listening to the birds sing about the flowers in bloom
attracting butterfly and nectar seeking humming birds
who fly near the place where I prepared a picnic for two.

Drift off to sleep my love
meet me in our meadow of dreams
A blanket spread
classic colors of checker board squares
with a picnic basket of wicker
two wine glasses for the laughter
of sparkling bubbles, we share.

Slowly falling
you glide on angels wings
in the distant horizon
next to the mountain of our desires
walking now
ever closer
stopping to sniff the aroma
of flowers grown by our mother nature
deeply in love with life
stepping on the moss of a fields shadow
your memory imprints a visit.

Our hands reach
and touch, fingers intertwined
feeling the warmth of together
as our eyes met with a look of content
our bodies drawing closer
we feel the purpose of meeting
from across the distant miles
a connection.

A summer rain softly falling
we dance
spinning
hands holding
until we fall together on the checkered blanket
laying together we make pictures from clouds
and speak of love everlasting
peanut-butter and jelly
a favorite.

Making plans for the coming days
when the Pacific ocean turns into a field
of green clover
and on the day
we picnic
and make love under the stars
in the meadow where we first met...
Looking into the mirror... as the story unfolds...
"Looking Into The Mirror... As The Story Unfolds.." is about true love and the journey of two people deeply in love. The title of my novel, a trilogy - "The Book of Dreams" ; "The Book of Shadows" "The Book of Awakening"
Liz Delgado Sep 2015
Colors all around me,
the grass tickling all my body,
the wind blows melodies.
RL Glassman Aug 2015
And through the archway
to the field -
I saw what one would see
what one would see if they could build
build a world of free and blue
flowers on the grassy land
while the wind blows eastward
and takes the green-leafed hand
And under the bridge
to the lake -
I saw what one would see
what one would see if they could make
make a world of wonderful
birds that sing
while the wind blows eastward
and a present it does bring
And over the meadow
to the sky -
I saw what one would see
what one would see if they could fly
fly to the clear skies
atop the heads of all
so through the clouds so white and tall
I saw what one would see
What one would see if they had all!
Written March 24th 2015
mk Jul 2015
when you see
a wild yellow daisy
amongst a meadow
of blood red tulips
I hope
you think
of *me
// daisy: symbolizes innocence and purity; it conveys loyal love
tulip: are symbolic of fame and perfect love //
in a meadow on the bluffs
little stars clutch clinging
to earth and sky all for us
the eye. petals are rolling
in on misty winds surprise
more for the eyes, and all
of meadow so live above
is tapestry higher than sea
colours meshing with leaves
birds, bees, faces of flower
scents of sweetness in air
a patch of ground bursting
for you and me with poetry
olena May 2015
With meadow eyes come daisies and trouble.
Flowerbeds picked on and whimsiness doubled.
Green green greeny eyes.
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