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S Kim Nguyen Mar 2020
I have neglected you, dear one,
once so full and vivid, now
expatriate in the cheerless corner.
Look at you drooping, clinging
to the bloodless parts of you,
having long dwindled in
the thankless dark.
Here I come with a sharp pang,
lovely amputee.
How much happier you will be
to forget the bereft bits,
no longer of use in your unfolding.
Until memory pales,
will your phantom limbs
also rustle in the window’s breeze?
I have a lot of plants so I write a lot of plant poems.
will Mar 2020
like sage or olives
tastes like meadows and fresh dew
like forests and life
Prompt 4: what does your favorite colour taste like?
will Feb 2020
life lines window sills
listener of whispered words
light lays on the leaves
When I speak in heaving sobs who listens?
Delia Grace Feb 2020
What if when we grow old
we rotted the way fruit does?
What if, as we crinkle in on ourselves,
we earn soft spots
where the mold has eaten us away?
We are plucked from our trees so young,
but we are ripe for so long.

What if when we rot
someone larger and grander
who can fit us in their hand
smiles as they throw us into the woods?
We hit trees and gain triumphant cheers.
We befriend the leaves
and we rot together.

What if when we grow old
we grew new life?
What if, as we crease and hunch,
we grow down and down
until we are rooted in place?
And we can be tall again
and beautiful.
2/15/20
Mrs Timetable Feb 2020
Trees cry deep within
We-unable to hear the sound
Barely brushing a leaf
Knowing it responds happily
Exchanging breaths
Forcefully accepting the water
It was given from above
Pulling it in so it can survive
Even a few drops it cherishes
Roots go deeper than you can see
Protecting feeding beauty breathing
It does it for you
It does it for me
Xella Feb 2020
The loud rumble that is tumbling weeds down serendipity-
yet drought ridden western terrain in the barren countryside of red
rocky mountain high and piercing blue sky.

I see blood red soil-
that rather sit in the pits of misery than- drink.
From the clouds of gods in the night-
so listen to me when the heat begins to rise- and seas fall.

The loud rumble that is tumbling **** down serendipity-
started it all,
                                                        A Million- Years Ago.
Mitch Prax Jan 2020
I don’t need a
thousand red roses.
You're a blue rose-
the only one I want.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2020
Growth takes time.
Not every seed takes off running.
Every now & then
Even seeds can trip over their shoes.
It makes the difference when you
Can take the time to stop & notice
As well as continue to walk
Until falling face first.
I've never known a man to die from
Tripping over their shoes.
But I've known men to improvise
Until they learned to tie their shoes
However,
I've also known men to tie knots in their shoes
and still can't get them loose
No matter how hard they try
Nyx Lilith Dec 2019
Spring sings as do the birds, high in the tall trees;
Spring knits fluffy white clouds, laying them in the blue sky gingerly;
Spring plants the seeds of the delicate flowers,
And when she’s sad, Spring’s tears water her trees.

Spring’s dazzling smile brings the radiant sun after showers,
Makes skies burst with vibrant colours;
Wanting to feel the crisp air of the morning,
Watch the dew on the flowers.

Spring places golden daffodil flower crowns in her hazel hair;
Spring’s voice is sweet honey, dripping from the hive;
Dancing in light meadows, frolicking in the forest, swimming in the river;
Spring spins the smooth silk of the clear lake water,
Rippling as the frogs leap from lilypad to lilypad.

Dining on the sweet apples and berries of her green trees,
The fresh oranges and strawberries;
Friends with the robins and butterflies,
Squirrels and deer, blue jays and swans.

Leaves every year,
Only to be back again for three months;
Taking the torch from Winter;
Making way for Summer, and Autumn;
Watching as they make their way,
And thrive, in their own moment;
An endless cycle, bound to Time.
i wrote this, like... last year. i revisited it, made it sound as pretty as i had first envisioned it but hadn't the power to convey. enjoy the spring.
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