Elizabeth Jul 7
And after the sun had set and the kitten was sleeping, I’d lie awake dreaming of a me I could never be. I’d lie awake promising a change I would fail to make as the days went by - As I marked my calendar June 29. I lied awake hoping for a chance I would fail to take because somewhere along the way I lost sight of my strengths, I switched paths on who I really wanted to be. But one day I hope I lie awake at night only dreaming of beautiful sunflowers of yellow and sluggish greens. I hope one day I wake up in the morning greeted with warm tea and an overcasting shadow of soft pinks and purples in the sky. I hope one day it’s you and me instead of just me. Just me
Sunflowers of sluggish yellow and green.
Elizabeth Jul 2
And when the time comes my tears won't be falling like rain for it will be warm tea and fresh honey streaming down my cheeks.
I hope one day I will bathe in sunflowers and new love - I'm tired of the dead leaves that burden my body, they soak in like fresh coconut on my skin.
I sit underwater where time stops for a second, and I am at peace. I hope one day I can run into rushing waterfalls without begging for that moment of altered reality. I hope one day I bathe in roses instead of my sorrows.
What do you hope for?
Elizabeth Jul 2
I’m jealous of those who fall asleep dreaming of warm tea and sunflowers while I lie awake at night fighting my demons till half-past two. My days are stolen from me by the exhaustion that weighs me and my eyelids down. They are too heavy for me to carry but I’m too tired to care. I have nightmares in my daydreams just thinking about the demons I will battle through the night. What happens when I lose?
I want a nice bed of roses to lie upon, maybe that will help me sleep.
Reem Hajal Jun 18
a little girl ran across a field of sunflowers.
when she reached the end of it,
she was met with a much older pure being.

“what lies beyond, God?”
“what lies beyond sunflowers,
are moon poppies my dear.
moon poppies are eternal, ever blooming.
they don’t belong on Earth,
only here, at the end of the line.
moon poppies are prettier than the moon!
might even compete with your eyes,
and the song you were singing yesterday.
would you like to see one?”

“must i die to see a moon poppy, Eternal one?”
come, i’ll show you around.”
eli Apr 22
i look at my skateboard
down at the ground
i close my eyes
and roll down the hill
getting faster and faster
until i hit flat ground
i open my eyes

when i roll down the hill
i feel free
the breeze hitting my face
my hair blows in the wind
the sun on my skin
its all too good

i feel at home
like a belong
thank you to my
Jeff Gaines Mar 9
I came to life in a field,
happy to be me …
in the light that shares my namesake.

Glowing like a smile,
for all to see …
and for any soul to take.

I arrived, en masse …
in a painted tin cart,
sent with hopes of brightening a room.

A gift of love,
with a note from the heart …
encouraging your dreams to resume.

Then you placed me in your kitchen …
your nature still veiled …
from the outstretched arms of a friend.

For my meaning meant nothing …  
a ship long sailed …
something you'd broken, refusing to mend.

I withered, dying there,
having given it my all …
the very best that I could.

Then tossed in the bin,
with our communion-turned-wall …
still … hoping I had done something good.

Unable to fathom …
Too guarded to call …
Sad … that I never would.

As you closed that lid, you closed your eyes,
making sure that you'd not have to see …
that the spirit of that Sunflower …
in all of those Sunflowers … lying there … was me.
Even flowers do not bloom at the same time,

The earth will be dull if they all do ----

So why are you forcing your floret to open?

You are not a Rose -- it grows in cool

Sunflowers blossom under the bright sky ---

Whilst your time is in Summer day.
Do not compare yourself with other people, we all have our time to shine.
A comparison on blossoming flowers if not now it will be someday soon.
Kelly Feb 11
Do you ever wonder why sunflowers follow the sun?
Its because there is darkness inside of them,
They hold onto it,
But they are greedy,
They want light too.
But they can not have both.
They keep the darkness,
Passing it to their seed in hopes they can have the light and the dark.
But we know they can not.
They keep the darkness.
Because if they let go, they fear they will never grab hold of the light and they will have nothing.
If they let the darkness go,
They fear they shall forget their past,
And have no future.
So they keep the darkness,
Never knowing what true light is.
Even though they look happy or surround themselves with the emotion,
The will never know the light,
Because all they have,
Is darkness.
My father once told me
he wouldn’t hold it against me if
I were to fall in love
with a woman

And I asked him how he’s so sure
it’s going to happen to me
He looked me straight in the eye,
stopped peeling my apples
and pointed at me with his knife,
“Duks, it’s because you’re me.”

And that terrified me to no end.
Not even because he looked
ready to stab me
but because I didn’t want
to be like my father

Yet here I am
seven years later
following every little footprint
he left for me in the sand
because he may be a lying,
cheating, fickle-minded swine
— but he is a good man
and he is half of me

And this half of me
left me a breadcrumb trail
leading to the part of myself
I will offer to you

He once told me
to never let someone you love
walk out the door angry
and I met this girl
(because there’s always a girl)
who walks in the room
and plants sunflowers in fields
of goosebump-riddled skin and waters them
with the tears of boys who think
their shark-grins and googly eyes
would make up for their
inability to hide their boners during her shows
and they still have the audacity to think
their half-assed existence
would be good enough for her

This girl —

She picks the best and brightest
sunflowers and hands them to me
wrapped in a peach-colored smile
on the days the sun doesn’t shine for me
and even after the longest days,
I’d tiptoe through her field
until she hugs me goodbye and sends me off
with petals tangled in my hair
and pollen clinging to my fingertips

She turns me into a haven
for bees and hummingbirds alike.

My father once told me
I was named after a revolutionary
and that if I were to love another,
I would have to raise my banners high
and shout over the cries of the crowd
I would have to prove
I am worthy
of my namesake — I am the fulfillment
of the prophecy left shattered
by a hail of bullets

Dad, I’ll tell you now,
I won’t be starting any wars
for this girl — I won’t be
risking my life to save hers

She’ll be at the battlefront
already going head-to-head
with the pigs in blue while she’s red in the face
and she won’t have a problem
if you shove her against the barricades
and blast her with the water cannons
but no god will save you
if you so much as touch her eyebrows

Dad, if you’re looking for revolutionary,
I’ve found it
in the way she says my name
when we’re standing on the cusp of change
and just about ready
to claim justice
from those who so gleefully
took it from us

My father once told me
that I should appreciate classical music more
when we watched an orchestra play in the mall
and the musicians that poured their hearts
into their craft

At the time, I didn’t see the appeal
of music without words
And I wish you could see me now, dad,
because I finally appreciate
the little things that I never noticed before —
like how Botticelli’s Birth of Venus
is just a painting
until you tell her you never knew
she was Botticelli’s muse
(because who the fuck looks like that
without being mistaken for a goddess
meant to be immortalized through art and poetry?)
like how poetry is only poetry
if you take the mundane
and turn it into something grandiose —
a pretentious way of saying
you have to be pretentious —
but honey, you already do this
well enough on your own
(so are you really the Muse
or the Poet?)
like how love isn’t always trembling —
sometimes it’s just staying still.
Root me into place
and tell me there can be nobody else
and I’ll tell you, dearest,
there hasn’t been anyone else
since I found out you want to be a teacher
since I held your hand in prayer
and simultaneously turned into a devout Catholic
since I told you promises are meant to be broken,
but not mine —
never mine.

Dad, it takes the right person
to show me what’s there to love
in the most minute of things.

My father once told me
to love with everything I am
till I have nothing left
“To hell with it!” he’d say.

Until now, I still take the last
slice of graham cake on Christmas Eve
even when I’ve taken more than I can stomach
I still give away
the stuffed animals that are broken and tattered
because I don’t want to be left with
things I no longer find the beauty in
I still find myself in relationships
where I have one foot out the door
because I know the exact route
to the fire exit and I’d only planned
to stay until intermission

But then, there’s you —
you take from me
only what you know I can give.
Without even noticing, I’ve given you
more than what I thought I had in me.

If I could, I’d tie a string
around the sun and carry it around
with me like a balloon
so when I come home,
your sunflowers would grow and by then
I’d have picked the ones that bloomed
on my way back to you

If I could take you to the moon,
I’d build a rocketship that uses my words
for fuel so, honey, you’ll never have to worry
about making it back home
I can take you to the Milky Way
amusement park and make
a merry-go-round of the planets
and I’d still have enough words for you
to keep as souvenirs when you land back home

Honey, I’ll never run out
of things to give you
and I take my time savoring what I have
because I know it’ll take me three times
asking you if you want the last piece
for you to try and take it from me
without me noticing
(You always fail.)

Dad, I am the end of your trail.
Let me tell you now
that you have led me to my death —
indeed, I am doomed!

Here lies the body
that was once your selfish daughter!

Now, father, watch her lay
sunflowers on my grave:

Dearest —
here rises the body
of who’ll love you
with all the tremble it took to get to you
with all the honey still sticky
and seeping into the pages
with all the faith one could afford
to give with arms outflung

Dearest —
here is when I tell you
there are no accidents.
You were meant to find me
in this exact spot.
Now, come take me home
and root me into place.

For the girl who got me to stay still when all I wanted to do was go.
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