Josie 8h

I smell the earth coming back to life
Breathing in the cool air cleanses my soul
I feel whole
I pick up a flower from the ground
I breath in the sweet scent
Listening to love songs
On the audio
A perfect Sunday stroll

Happy Spring!

The spot where you fell now has the shadow of new you
beginning to start a reign,
autumn's decrepit form
forgot
in
this rise;
only for spring
are your eyes.

melancholy 12h

i feel very extra sometimes…
    
    i feel very used sometimes…

            i feel like a dandelion when it wears its’ coat of fluff…
        
    people pick me up and admire then

blow me away, forgetting about

me until i plant my seeds for the next bloom…

            more and more and more of me spread,
            
    too many places i am in now.

i’ve been blown too far, so i cannot
    
    find myself among the flowers.  i am just

            a weed that only people with childish innocence

    would bother gazing upon and

and i wish that i could just die.
    
                i feel very extra sometimes
                                and i wither with grief.

MU 17h

Flowers stole music
From hearts in this spring, therefore
Bees are now poets

Life needs love to live
Love grows poetry in hearts
Hearts are now so pale

Green looks like blue now
Blue turned into brown and grey
Black is the new red

Nectar lost its taste
Gras does not smell anymore
Spring with no love hurts…

Oh, dandelion
Take me with you to summer
I am sad, this spring…

Please, dear butterflies
If you like in fall the leaves
Let’s together leave

I confess, beetles
Already missing winter
Let’s hide forever...

My first Haiku about the sad season of spring without love.

An ordinary springtide breeze
skipped lightly upon pungent
amassed trillium felicity


an arousing spring cadence
wafts lighter than yester night's
vague hope silently stirred
between ensconced memories


squandered dreams benumbed
by a chilling need to forget
what tarries unforgotten
in mending hearts broken


more than any practical sense
beyond fleeting lifespan :


for a candle burns more dimly
just before the wick's smolders rise ,
evanescing smoke dissipating ;
like tears that dry on their own


a candlewick gasping for wax
before vanishing into its own ash
a fading memory of light ―                                                                ­        .


April 23, 2017

Notes (optional)

something simply scribbled that seemed to speak out-loud in a moments single brush of thought spilled without edit ― without intention and before over-thinking after thoughts ...

Thanks for reading my recent writing...life happens and the process will be,
regrettably what it is meant to be, unintentionally taking me away from publishing for personal reasons soon...I'll keep sharing until "Stormy Seas" flood.   I hope to be able to return if the stars realign" ― if it were not for hope the heart would break"

Doubt is the storm ― love is the purpose, and we do not say goodbye ...

Thought of Spring cleaning tonight
took out everything which was
closed in my closet..
started segregating into
necessary, unnecessary
and for later use again..
And all these seemed
too much of work..
as with every piece of thing,
I had my emotions attached!
But suddenly a thought arose..
why not all seasons cleaning
for a mind?

cleaning of home happens every now but I doubt whether cleaning in life happens that often...why not leave behind attachment and see what is actually necessary for us in life...

Your touches are soft
like the brushing of a petal against my leg,
plants reaching over the street but never bothering me.
Yellow and purple fills my vision,
the vivid colors staining my lips with adoration.
I bite away at the skin to collect the remnants of pollen, and I feel reborn. Flowers fill my arms, my allergies don't seem to mind.

Daina 1d

And what do I know about love?

The sound of the spring whispering
Like her sweet lips are pressed to my ear

Days get cold
But only for a moment
Spring is giving the winter the last few breaths of fresh air
That it has left.

Her arms wrap around me
The slow breeze
Just like it fondles the trees
Not for a moment to I feel the tiredness
The opportunities quiver within

Soon it is
Soon.
I will feel the touch of her soft spring skin.
But before this time
I have to allow transition

And I'm just fine with that
When it's done
I'll have a rose like no other.

I found a tiny blue rose in some craft stuff today. It's been give me a little adventure tonight. Thought I lost it, it turned up in the bottom of my pocket. Then it fell into a little bowl of water.
But none of the other tiny roses I also grabbed did this.

stop and smell
the misty roses
as you cross their path
we need liquid to have paradise
we are drops of water in the lake of life

             -Raquel Echanique

It was spring, my favorite season.
The trees gathered their color from when the winter took it away.
The flowers began to bloom, the colors yellow, and purple that hid with the grass .
The sun that shone bright, how the clouds stood the way they were late at night
The birds chirping happy to be back home after a long cold winter
Humid by morning, cloudy by noon, rainy by night were the days i was looking forward to.

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