Paul Marfil Jul 27
On colder days, a petal
is dreaming of fire

I am looking at it through a window
where a raindrop is seeking my back through my shirt, tracing a shiver
my hand rushes in to erase

Here is a room where the wind comes in
to speak to me in a cold acoustic ---
Nick Drake. Bon Iver. Elliot Smith.

You tell me there is a garden where
every flower has a secret name, and that
by uttering one correctly, one can pluck it without its petals falling apart

But this one has a petal
dreaming of fire

Do not worry, you would say
a flower is a flower only until
someone plucks it, and a dream
is a dream only until you catch it
Kaveh Akbar writes that a flower
perfumes the hand that shreds it
but I am not taking any chances, I am
not the hand to gather such amour
                                  from a flower

I am touching this glass window, as if
touching it were the same as touching
whatever is on the other side ---
       three winters
piling up at a fingertip, saying it is okay
              to miss heat

The ground has tucked itself in a blanket
of leaves, only to scatter them in the rain
like an offering. Here, too, is an ounce of
sunlight lifting itself from a puddle

                         But I, too, needed to
        give in to compassion's curse, that
should the sky become the color of our
ashtrays, I will gather heat in the palm
of my hands and cover that one petal

the way I once covered
Bryce Jul 23
Here we are, awoke
Turning the effervescent wheel's
Lively spoke
And speaking of which,
Dreaming through the day
I sit awake and with God I

"where have you been?"

In shining stars and spectrography
My surveying eyes alight to watch the
Shift and fizzle and burn and cook
To turn and dance towards a thousand ends.

Time a laughable wire severed
To hone the momentary soul
And yet
Let go towards the endless drone of ever
Lasting beyond the melting bones

It is a beautiful flower of a thing
The last through the door for rite of spring
Swinging, arms out on the galactic road
Aiming for all at that great unknown

And yet,
I stare up at a beautiful powder-coated sky
Watching the clouds curl and saunter by
Knowing this truth, never seeing the same thing anew,
And hoping somehow to be indemnified

Of what?

We speak the same
To reiterate the revolutive turn in all but name
The earth owes naught but dust and dirt,
To all which is and ever earned.

To not forget that which we come,
To not mistake the hand of fate;
That all that is shall once be done,
Then faith of life is ours to take.
Lyn-Purcell Jul 16
Petals fall gently
One drifts and falls on my palm
Thinking of futures
Currently outside in my garden, thinking of what my future holds
Lyn xxx
Poetic T Jun 12
I heard the silhouette of your heart
       echoing in the eyes of our love.
You were a seed that grew entwining
                  around our everyday lives.

Like a petal you were blossoming,
              but then the wilted slowly.
Never did we think beauty could fade,
        every heartbeat a precious reflection.

Where once we had joy, then sadness
       enveloped our hearts, as still as yours.
When you were born, no tears of joy as
       petals had fallen, and stillness entered our lives.

"Every beat is precious,
                      hold everyone one like its a delicate petal"
Ako May 20
He is what people define as "virus"
A viral sin of a deathly love

For what he desire to love,
Longing to touch,

He longs for a man.
For the rose petals on the graves of the same kind of him, yet, they chose to climb the stairs before God.
the petals fall
the colors twirling,
twirling, twirling
one by one
slowly falling
in the moonlight
beauty unseened
illuminated in the moonlight
not to be seen
the sleeping humans
the petalls
blow away

A lovely petal she has gained,
A life is trimmed awhile,
The thorns undress for judgments
That takes so many miles.

Faith has taught her sacraments
It murmurs all the time,
And then if skies will wreck unknown,
Her fingers note divine.

spiral-whirl Feb 17
her words are where her heart is,
her eyes focused on ahead,
for the delicate petal has lost its stem,
running to find,
running to search,
however nothing seems to be there,
and the petal withers away.
Maida Rasool Feb 15
i have always loved the flowers and the birds,
loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by
i have always loved the way the leaves move
in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make
yet the tiredness that begun a while ago
remains like a veil over my skin
grey and cold
and as I watch the petals and the twigs that sway
outside the window
there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy.
Poetic T Feb 8
When the wolf saw the sheep
             the sheep asked why me,
why not those over there.

The wolf replied I have no need
          of explanation for your worries,
they are short lived as is your breath.

The sheep asked again as the wolfs
         teeth caressed it throat,
Loosing gently it replied.

*"Death is a petal on a flower of life,
               and yours has fallen to me,
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