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Steve Mar 20
Deep custard coloured daffodils
Delivering the spring
Tall mustard trumpeted soldiers
A precious star-like thing
Bright gold encrusted promises
That all the birds can sing
A portent of the future
Only a daffodil will bring.
Daffodils 🌼 adorn the hills and usher in the spring
I wasn't nice to my mother
My mother was a lonely woman
Daughter of a farmer
who I think I heard
Used to touch kids
Wife of many
Who beat her
Spat on her face and
Tore her soul off her
And she was a mother to me 

Sometime just before
my teens
She made me
a sandwich
to take to school
With a little
too much
Mustard in it

I took a bite
during my lunch break
And the sharp and sickening
tang
of the mustard
Made me sick

I took the sandwich
back home
And shouted at her
Asking why
she would put
so much mustard
in my sandwich

"Is it not nice? I thought you'd like it"
she said
"I like mustard
here
I'll eat it"

I had never seen
someone look so heart broken
Eating what they like
Planejane2 Jul 2019
Path

Love is actually the color of white
Bright like his love is like a light
When he comes for you
Don’t be in fright
His love so pure,
What a sweet delight.
I’m trying to be right
Not sure which road is wrong or right
The word is a lamp
Onto my feet
And a light
Unto my path.
Psalms 119:105iveeeeeeee
It’s okay, you can sit back and laugh
Go ahead and strap up those G fazos
Because you’ll be running for a long time. It’s okay though, because the Lord told me
In due time.
Just continue to rhyme
And continue to pray.
Search for your other wing
Don’t leave me in dismay.
Like I said, these poems are not my own. They are of God and I’m coming home.
Kaya Sep 2016
She was dressed in mustard,
on a tall golden chair
She sat before clean,
crisp and clear silverware
around her, nothing mattered
not even the polluted air
she left, nobody noticed
they ask "was she even there"

-Kaya
b e mccomb Jul 2016
Once in awhile
I feel inclined
To stay up all night
Writing stanzas like this.

And having drunk three
Shimmering tumblerfulls of
Self-doubting coffee
The prospect seems alive.

The longer I stay
Awake
The sooner I can
Reinvent myself.

My body is
Changing
And so is my
Soul.

And I'm beginning to see
Where I went wrong
In this world where I
Raised myself to be right.

However, if I stay awake
One cannot forget the issue of
Filled notebooks, attractive men
And tomorrow's frosted gaze.

Perhaps I will shower in
Whole-grain mustard at three a.m.
Copyright 5/8/15 by B. E. McComb
Steve May 2016
A Scotsman and his bonnie lassie
Feeling fit and rather sassie
Went out one day to climb a hill
The views up there were bound to thrill
When a wind blew round the poor man's kilt
The lassies head did quickly tilt
Trying hard to calculate
As he struggled there upon yon gate
"My, my *****" she smugly blustered
"I've brought a sandwich and I see you've got the mustard."
Hannah Jo Jun 2015
Everything is made up of the tiniest particles and if you think about it,
we're not that big compared to a lot of things out there in the universe and
I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel everything crashing down on top of me,
I feel the weight of being such a tiny speck in such a great big world closing in around me and straining my very bones and when you get to the point of lying lifeless on your bedroom floor or screaming and cursing at the moon with every breath stored up in your little lungs, you start to think you could never feel much worse but I'll tell you something: there is something small but great
inside your very core and just a little Faith, it doesn't have to be any bigger than a mustard seed,
well that can go a long way and if you look hard enough, if you really try,
Darling find that God Atom inside of you; I promise you'll get by.
This one is for every little broken heart smashed by someone they looked at like they were a whole world. This is for every boy and girl who feel like they’ll just get hurt if they ever speak an honest word. This is a poem for every loved one of mine who has had one too many hard times. This is for the girls who know what it’s like to be grabbed forcefully and shaken. Who’ve had electric fear forced into their frail little bones, and the flower of their soul taken. This is for the boys who had their hearts stolen in one faraway glance, never to be seen again. This is for the children who crave constantly for parental approval but can’t ever seem to win. And not most importantly, but importantly, this is for me; oh God, help me find my way home again.
Lenore Lux Jan 2015
There's so much about the way leaves look.
Under light.
Wet with rain.
I seize up.
Memories.
Of service.
Rush into.
My safe space.
For all I've hardened is just a front.
La Mer Sep 2014
Creaming leaves, dripping
off her spiderweb branches
as we eat dinner under the mustard sun,
I feel her nervous as I eat slowly, she glances
at my spiderweb branches and grabs my web.
She spins her prey in my web and moves it slowly
down, among her roots, where I feel gnarled and leafless.
My autumn colors have vanished in her winter
frozen stems, frozen in time, I stare into her
mustard reflected eyes.
Derick Smith Sep 2014
Between her and our
Almighty Beloved,
this mustard seed faith
grows as the willow.
.

— The End —