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Our love will never be a thing of today or tomorrow, but it will always be there. It exists, and blooms first thing in the morning, but even if you don't find it, it is there. Only, it is asleep, and you wake up, only if it matters.  

Some days, I wake up with a hole in my chest, some days, I wake up with my chest filled with too much, that it hurts beyond words. Do I burst with joy? Burst with ire? Or burst into red dahlias and daffodils?

Because I always hold the watering can with earnest, the grooves of its handle imprinted in my hand, as I water my garden each and every morning. And you don't notice them, the flowers that I make bloom.

You gave me the red dahlias and daffodils, and I always close my eyes at night, thinking one day you will notice.

And I know you won't.

But I go on anyway, with my morning gardening; keeping the soil, cutting what has died, keeping them alive from morning through night, caring  this way always, without self-regard.

This is my way of love.
Red dahlias-betrayal and dishonesty
Daffodils-uunrequited love
The pure droplets of heaven are touching the earth
Taking an essence of the soil
Mildly and vividly.
The small plants starts saltation
In a felicitous way
The husbandman is fortunate
For its orchard.
The birds starts seeking for a new place
Desperately and instantly.
For them,
And for their new borns.
Droplets of earth are touching the heaven!
Nicole Moran Feb 11
Budding, glowing bulbs. They
are shedding their stemmed leaves,
blown away and bound by nothing.
They are eating themselves alive
from the outside in. They are missing
the train by mere minutes.

Then October came along with its
spindle-like skin, weaving wool and
silk through the fibers of her
fragile life, being. She is nylon,
polyester, a poorly written trope.
She is not bound, not made by the
Plants are patient
Waiting for just the right time to sprout
The slightest misjudgment on their part could mean death
So they will wait as seeds for years
Hiding beneath the tall oaks
Hoping one day they will have the chance to kiss the sun's sweet rays
as their elder's looming above them do
Plants are strong
As people massacre them for food or for their flashy reproductive organs
But they will come back
Even though they know they will be cut down again
Plants are kind
Giving themselves to help all others
Blooming beautifully for the bees
Cleaning corrupted air
Giving back to the soil when they die
I hope to be like a plant
I hope to be patient in life
Waiting for the right time
I hope to be strong
To grow back even when I know ill be cut down again
I hope to be kind
To give love to everything and everyone
allure Feb 3
I write until my fingertips bleed
from pouring my coffee-stained thoughts onto the page
through my veins
I carry creativity
for so long in which I have kept in captivity
to avoid negativity
but I feel as though
my words need to be shared
my blood was meant to flow
the garden in my brain
is of plants in full bloom
while the vessel I'm in
is sat in my room
with a laptop
and a tea
for this is me
a writer at heart and a writer meant to be

grace Jan 29
i scrub the thoughts away with water and acid
soap isn't enough so bleach in cuts it's all that should remain
in the damaged figure that has begun to become my body
my heart aches at the sight of blood but it opens me up for more opportunities
in my body grows the leaves of the others
who have been waiting to be set free
branches bring my lungs to collapse
as my body becomes life for two others
she was a tree
The tree of life
The story of a new mother who's family and partner abandoned her. She struggles to make ends meet for her two unborn children, and thinks of all the things they could have. She opens up "holes" or "cuts" in herself to make room for what they need. Complications arise and she dies giving birth (in this case life) to two children who will take her place.
Cucumbers scream when sick
Flowers whine when attacked
A plant under attack spreads chemicals
Though these chemicals are only spread far as the plant goes
Even so other plants tune in and create the same chemicals to ward of the attacker
The chemicals hurt the attacker
But also call predators of the attacker
Plants react to words and can feel touch
Though the words probably have no affect the chemicals that go with the emotions that go with the words probably do
It makes sense they can pick up our chemical signals as well as touch as both seem to be proven necessary-plants produce and sense each others chemicals. These chemicals are created because they can feel themselves being attacked. Plants can tell time, animals such as cats and dogs can as well. Animals do this via scent; morning smells different than night. Plants probably can smell, or something like that, it would be the same thing they use to sense chemical warnings. Or perhaps-and this is stretching it-they can feel the light or temperature according to time. Some suggest plants can hear, or something similar. They could find the tube with water by the sound of it running. But given the choice between the tube and moist earth, they chose the moist earth.
I just thought this was too interesting. Anything to add on, counterclaims or anything??
all by leigh Jan 21
You can water your plants.
You can walk your dog everyday.
You can feed the birds in the park.
But the day that you forget to sustain your plants,
or are too busy to cater to your dogs need for the outdoor experience,
or run out of bird food for the park,
things tend to fall out of balance.
Plants survive,
so do the dogs
and the birds.
They start to believe in an entitlement to your generous acts.
Something I've learned
is that it's not always your job to take care of someone else.
There's always rainstorms,
back doors,
and picnic crumbs
waiting for their turn to take care of someone.
I used to feel pressure for having to be the source of someone's happiness.
yosemite Jan 15
i keep a glass bowl of green onions on my window sill
and they remind me
that no matter how
it is outside
you must keep growing
the sun will shine
and there’s no excuse
for being stagnant

for all intents and purposes, they’re great
i just have to rotate them every week
so that they don’t grow crooked
i love plants
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