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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.
Jme Love Dec 2021
He loves me
He loves me not

The rose is dead
All the petals have been plucked

Careless with love
Just as with the rose
Its no surprise it whithered and died
It was picked
Plucked
Thrown to the ground

As for the rose tho....
Well you know how the story goes

He loves me
He loves me not
Its just a dead rose now
annh Oct 2021
i am over without the easy|
sometimes a cup without a saucer|
often shoes without socks|
but mostly i am legs running and arms whirling

in a hurry to escape the day|
in a rush to fill my head with bouncy thoughts|
in a flurry of wishing flat words into fantastic stories|
of turning grey into cerulean, and rust into claret

i am questions with more than one answer|
questions which play on my mind|
answers which go around and around|
like petals of eccentricity whelmed by an eddy|
and trying to escape the day in a hurry
‘For the circle is perfect and infinite in its nature; but it is fixed for ever in its size; it can never be larger or smaller.’
G. K. Chesterton
There are so many lilies in my brain,
spreading the petals of the pain,
full of the fragrance of regret,
they are too hard to forget,
thrive and flow fast through the veins.
Indonesia, 22nd September 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
LC Sep 2021
The rose caressed my fingers.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
My eyes could only see red.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
Ready to peel the sweet bud -
"he loves me, he loves me not."

His gentle fingers grazed mine.
"I love you, I love you so."
His eyes were milk chocolates.
"I love you, I love you so."
The petals clung to the rose.
"I love you, I love you so."
Under the night, I now hold you deeply, for
the sun of you heals hearts through
only your peace alone, your
the light in the touch of lips
on my skin is light as the
petals of the sky around
us, in our float, I ask
for the subtle beauty in the
midnight hours,
where dark is light
and sings, “love is
in the unseen”, for we
see each other as we are,
In all of atoms, love,
space, and time in
the touch of our
hands, you are I,
from the deep
blue rush in skin,
to the sacred,
we return.
A song lasts forever once it is held
as a secret found, arriving with
these words, “seek me not when you wish
to find me, you will adrift to my embracing
arms unknowingly, whether in leaves as pages,
stars as eyes, flowers as hearts, the floating
petals as the lover’s touch, the words we share
as the moon drifting the waves, I seek to
be the one that touches you as the stars in their tides,
the soft lavender dancing in the wind and 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 wind,
your hands reach for the skies, I return to you as your
origin, as 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 to be
created wherever you may roam, whether it is
in the fields of flowers or in the beyond
of you and I.
LC Apr 2021
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
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