aih 4h
Do not crave me for the petals adorned around me bloomed into a beautiful bright red spread. Do not crave me for the leaves decorated around my body in a dance with the light breeze.
Crave me for the thorns around every part of me for that is where my truth lies, where all of me is real and vulnerable.
Definitely written after Anne Bronte: “he who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave a rose.” My all time favorite quote.
Kalanchoë, finally you bloom!
Welcome little foreigner,
To the corner of my room.
With frangipani flame
And crocus-gold effulgent.
Strains past succulent skin
Joyous, ebullient!
Though your petals grow
Just to hold it in,
Fiery blood escapes
Past watery blocks of ester-swell
And you exult with me
In a wintry cell.
Dedicated to the first bloom of a pretty plant that feared might never bloom, which finally treated me to one blossom in winter.
within this
world of
to once
see the
of the
the sight
of darkness
you have
known for
so long,
and let
your feet
touch the
earth of
you are
not the
of you,
hear the
call of
your soul,
and you
will be  
as the
the iron
as petals
your open
I could not
tell you,
your heart
will sing to
you, hear
it well,
for it is the
of your
where you
are always
loved forever.
veritas Jul 25
and you will fall to your knees

(as petals fall to the ground, so soft)

and it will part a way

(if buttery light could cleave so)

and if ever gods thundered
quaked wrath shook perturbe d

so shall you weep

like rain and a sigh of mist that followed.
xak Jul 20
he called me
his sunflower
when he said that
my petals never shines brighter
gina quatrino Jul 12
He loves me.
she sat at her kitchen table, staring at the fresh bouquet.
her arms folded, she fumbled with the fallen petals.
He loves me not.
she let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair.
the window was open, letting in a crisp breeze that made her feel nostalgic.
she watched the curtains dance,
imagining that they were arms
reaching out to hold her.
He loves me.
she wondered if he was thinking about her,
as she sipped her coffee,
which was far more cream and sugar than anything else.
He loves me not.
“this is silly,”
she thought to herself, tossing the final petal over her shoulder.
and yet,
she couldn’t help but peek behind her to watch it float to the ground.
He loves me.
she rested her arms on the windowsill, watching the busy town below her.
she listened for the sounds of life starting again.
the babies in their strollers, crying.
the bikes racing against the cobblestone pavement.
she watched people hug, kissing each cheek.
starting over.
He loves me not.
she knew in her heart this was true,
but she still waited
for the last petal to fall,
she watched it float to the ground
so soft, yet so sudden.

He loves me not,
and that’s okay.
Mist shrouds the morning
Her petals covered with dew
Nectar of my love
RBWhite Jul 5
To thank the blossoming valleys of your birth,
To cherish wisdom in lonely nights,
Everytime a petal falls,it turns pink and tender,
It remains yours and pure,
Bursting above the seas and winds,
Now after many sunny whispers a lovely glow shines through the night sky,
Some wanderers think of this as a way to their Kingdom.
She Writes Jul 4
Firey flowers
Burst in the sky
Celebrating independence
On the 4th of July

Booms echo off buildings
Rockets launch sky high
Exploding into colors
Quickly floating by

Awestruck by the beauty
Infatuated with the sound
I love watching fireworks bloom
And its petals fall to the ground
Happy 4th of July!
Gale L Mccoy Jul 3
you spit dead flowers at me
they spill from between your teeth
I put them between the pages of a book
one I’ve only read once

if you had a mouth full of fresh flowers
I wouldn’t have stopped to listen
isn’t it fascinating
to see the decay in the veins of a petal

one day you’ll spit your last petal
will you replace them
or let new ones grow from the dead
I guess I’ll find out
with a new book in hand
day 3 of 31 days of poetry!
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