Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Malia Mar 4
Hello yellow
Daffodil, as you scatter
Like the sun.
I see you spread
Your daylight ‘round
But still, your petals
Fall to the ground,
And I think to myself,
“I wish I were you,
I wish I were you but happy.”
we all have that person don’t we
Heidi Franke Sep 2023
One more before I go.
Into the wilderness of parts and dreams. A happy send off in the cool morning.

I will be back in a new form perhaps, a more rounded crown of a tree, after years of pruning.
A "wild and precious life" with untold horrors, spoken dreams, and wandering caravans of thought.

In yellow abodes loving kindness which is yours. Maybe it will seep in like a root gives to it's leaves. Traveling through twisted currents. It's fragile rose petals. Short lived. But remembered.
It's almost mid September and the Julia Child rose bush pushes out it's last rose for this year. A year of waiting, trauma, wandering untethered.
I S A A C Jul 2023
stifled in this house of mirrors
thought my promised love was here
my flaws become all too clear
critical seeds deposited deep
i can see them blossom here
rose petals, swollen fruits
but no pair in this house of mirrors
cracked the case, racked my brain
all this data, i need to leave it
in this house of mirrors my confidence is decaying
my ego grows tired, i lean into yoga
realize my ego’s expired, my old life is over
my stability is fading
in this house of mirrors i saw possibilities
in this house of mirrors i saw atrocities
in the shadows of ambiguity, i almost lost me
balancing beam, shattering dreams
warped perception, endless maze
biological embrace, removal of societal shame
this house of mirrors lives with me today
leeaaun Jun 2023
there was a time
when we walked around
in the spring

when you picked flowers
to put in my basket
while i wanted to fill yours

just like that our love grew
too much,
that baskets couldn't hold em'

i thought that was a good sign about love
but who knew
unlike the birds who fly freely

those flowers will lose petals
instead of going with the flow of wind
they fall down on the ground

reminding us of autumn
every spring lover has to face it
but we couldn't

i wish now
what it would have been like
if we knew

being a spring lover is not easy
we have to go through every autumn
after every spring

a cycle that love will repeat
I see
the roses
in you, the
delicate
petals of
of being
human,
the thorns
of us have
broken
the chains,
our feathers
glide when
darkness
once
wished
to down
the soar
of our
wings,
feathers
glide from
loud howls,
floating
up to the
place we
call as
truth.
We look
upon the
the flowers,
thinking,
“I was once
you, before
my eyes
were known
to your
bloom”
the wind is
lifting the
petals
gently as
wanderers
of the sea,
the night
falls,
us and
them
are as
blinking
stars,
floating
almost
endlessly,
unaware
of the
lights
we give,
and yet,
unwavering.
Little
flowers
opened
as you
kissed me
lightly,
the petals
under the
moonlight
dance,
we wore
the robes
of the stars,
and gazed
upon the
tides, we
wondered
how they
beheld
a dream,
always
there
as the
sea of
our
arms,
gilded
in silver
scales,
returning
to a
home
where
you keep
these
hands of
mine
close, be
delicate,
for you
hold my
heart
and
yours.
vanessa marie Apr 2022
i went to the market today
i bought myself a fresh bundle
not of your favourites, but of mine
of yellow and blue with green stems

tonight i will fill the mason jar fresh
with water and petals floating alongside
and i will watch as the petals drop
one by one i save them, dried

tomorrow i will go to the market
i will walk to the water and smile
i will skip rocks on the shore
and watch the waves stretch out for miles

i will keep those petals in a jar
those of green and yellow and blue
i will remember their place on my shelf
i will always remember you
The poet
of the night
closed her
eyes, and
dreamed of
little stars
as details
in the small
moment of
beauty she
beheld, as a
painting
once hidden,
now coming
alive before
her eyes, as
wondrous
as when
she had
first
met the
pages
of a book,
and held
them
more
dearest
than the
petals of
a flower
held close
to her
heart,
forever in
bloom.
Next page