Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
A song lasts
forever once
it is held
as a secret
found, when
it tells you,
“seek me
not when
you wish
to find me,
you will
adrift to me
unknowingly,  
whether
in leaves
as pages,
stars as
eyes,
flowers
as hearts,
floating
petals as
the lover’s
touch,
the words
we share
as the
moon
drifting
waves,
I seek to
be the
one that
touches
you, as
the stars
in their
tides,
the
soft
as the
lavender
dancing,
the wind
carrying
the aroma
through
your hair,
nature
allows
you to see
the light
silently
glowing
in others,
the steps
of people
are as the
fields
soaring
under a
zephyr,
your
hands
reach
for the
skies,
I return
to you,
as your
origin, the
fragile and
deep bud
waiting to
be opened
as the
others,
whom,
as you,
await the
sunlight
awakening,
seeker of
truth, look
no farther
than the
bird upon
your palm,
singing a
prayer of
home
you will
create
wherever
you may
roam
in the
fields of
flowers and
beyond,
to the
eternity of
you and I.
TD May 14
tenderly turned petals
drooping lips and dew glanced
seem to draw a searching finger
to its fairness caressed in relief

moisture on a naked shoulder
pale and sparkling in the light
its purity unblemished
evokes a yearning much the same
LC Apr 17
the flowers spread their limbs
basking in the sunlit glow
as the refreshing morning dew
caresses their curved leaves.
their vivid petals flirt
with the colorful sunbirds,
pulling them closer and closer
to the sweet, sticky pollen,
which rains all over the soil
as more flowers begin to wake up.
#escapril day 16!
The rose of love withered on the vine
In lifeless disposition she'd remain
Her syrupy nectar slowly did decline
A bewailing sorrow in ending twain
No recapture of a past happiness
The petals perished browning to dark
Disappearing elation's gleefulness
A flower's heart minus her loving spark
Without the touch of fondness on the bloom
Her brilliant brightness faded well away
Those wondrous days were replaced by gloom
Sombre melancholy of saddest pall's shay
As dusk's hour turns to the dying closeness
Reflect on the rose's mood of dimness
deadhead Mar 19
flower of the ice
blossoming in the winter
petals in the snow
deadhead Mar 15
a new flower begins to blossom
letting the petals become unfurled
almost as if they were wings
Ronin Mar 15
you told me
the roses in my garden
weren't red enough,
so i changed them.

then
you told me
the roses in my garden
weren't big enough,
so i changed them.

finally,
you told me
no matter what i did
my roses would never be pretty
enough for you,
so i cried.

i let you trample up all
my roses
and i took the thorns and the petals
and i chewed them up,
and spit them in your face.

but one thorn
got swallowed
and it
remains stuck in my
throat to this
very day.

for every lie i get told
i swallow a thorn
how many boys would it take,
to get my rose garden back?


& i never even promised you a rose garden.
based on the book titled "i never promised you a rose garden"
Payton Mar 1
Night flower blossoming
Beneath the summer sky
Petal parasols unfurling
Throughout June and July

She was born under the moon
Nocturnal butterfly
Pollinated by pale moths
To live one day then die

Moonflower blooms in warmth
Her short season’s end nigh
Shriveling once the frost sets in
And conceding to the ice

Moonblossom rich in scent
A true pleasure to stand by
Her short-lived sweet fragrance
Would all surely vivify
This poem was written in 2020.
rotting rose petals
dry and stiff, unsupple
breathless babies breath
pain so unheard and subtle
suffocated, all blue with disgrace

the rose sheds its skin
petals with a green tinge
they’re bent into seashell shapes
it could form the most
fragile and tender, delicate locket
yeah, i can see it, could sell it
cos who else would stock it?
i just hope “blue with disgrace” came across as a clear alternative to “blue in the face”
Next page