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My footsteps were memorizing
the cracks of the floor,
vines creep along the grounds
as the constellations,
they are the patterns to my wonderland.

Gold flush,
rose blush
You are beautiful in my memories
and I unlocked  the box of my dreams,
wounds are deeper than to what I feel
Stitched with the strings I tied to you,
People are vines as they fall in despair.
Words left unsaid
Ray Dunn Dec 2020
be the vines,
exist slowly. cautiously.

crawl up, looking for any
footholds to expand your reach.

exist violently.
tear down the bricks of
the building you conquered

and above all else—

rise to the top of what you hate the most.
not the best flow but a viewpoint i live by
kyle dionysus Nov 2020
Vines around my neck.
Thorns in my waist.
Seeds in my eyes.
Juice drips from my veins.
Leila Sep 2020
Cold finger tips
Rush down my arm
Yet fire burns through my veins
Lighting me up
What I feel is not life
Rather a silver lining
Passionate yet sorrow
Filled with a vengeance that cuts deep
My eyes roll back
The kiss of death now comes

A sugary sweet smell
Of a flower
It twists and turns
Sharp vines puncture itself
Yet it flows along
When the wind comes it drifts along with it
But a rock can not understand that
The rock sits and stays
A strong silent type
Obedient in its own will
Not so much stubborn rather unsure
I wrote this when I was 15, it’s what I consider to be my first “good” poem. I hope you enjoy it <3
Amanda Hawk Jul 2020
fresh starts creep like vines
layering the window sill
the day smells like rain
IMCQ Apr 2020
Fiendish wires driven deep into the mind.
Subsisting on the chaos it compels unto others.
Craving lechery and deference.
When resisted the coils tighten.
Its weighted vines make it difficult to stand.
I know what it fears,
We are the same.
The threads are not mine.
If I controlled the them I'd do the same.
We are puppeteers.
I see the treasure he holds, how he abuses it.
Run away.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Beckoning
by Michael R. Burch

Yesterday the wind whispered my name
while the blazing locks
of her rampant mane
lay heavy on mine.
And yesterday
I saw the way
the wind caressed tall pines
in forests laced by glinting streams
and thick with tangled vines.
And though she reached
for me in her sleep,
the touch I felt was Time's.

This is an early poem, written during my youthful Romantic period. I believe I wrote the original poem around age 18, then revised it six years later. Keywords/Tags: Love, freedom, beckoning, lure, allurement, time, wind, pines, streams, vines, hair, mane, locks, travel, departure, parting, separation, loss
Lilly F Mar 2020
one day, earth will take it all back
and you'll be wailing under her vines, as they tie down your limbs
gasping for air as her flowers grow in your lungs,
drowning as her salty waters fill up your throat,
until the only word you can stutter from your helpless, desperate lips
is sorry

©L.F.
inspired by the quote: "she will take it back someday, slowly but surely"
-pink floyd
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