Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nylee Mar 30
My lonely field
no one to accompany,
there are weeds growing
high up till my chin.
I am barefoot,
walking around aimlessly
my feet are bleeding
many pebbles beneath my feet
I am searching for the sun
hiding behind the clouds
the colours are sepia
black, brown, yellow
soon there is rain
pouring over my face
the scene goes muddy
then moon follows
and the night conquers
and till when it is dawn
I am long gone.

a walk in my field,
a walk into my life
it is how it is
stay where you are
scenery is not pretty
Black Petal Mar 17
A single flower
Blooms among the tangled weeds
Beauty in the mess
Juniper Mar 6
Why am I so quick to crave death?

When things get difficult
And my world spins

I haven't truly suffered
Not nearly enough

Even so
My body aches to be still

To stop entirely

I crave the silence and peace
That comes with a grave

Despite this I persist
Like a **** through the sidewalk cracks

Ever growing

Craving the sunlight
Laokos Mar 5
i'll raise an electric fence around
the gods up there
in mountains and ivory towers
and they'll all wear shock collars

i'll spread peanut butter on bread
and send it to them through
the mail

i'll write them letters from the
lower world saying that 'time
really isn't a bother anymore
because apples rot in home
baked pies down here'

i'll reach through my own
tainted build up of corrosive
discharge and pull a petal
from the flower of life
to eat in front of
them with a coffee toothed smile

i'll throw weeds over
palisades into
groomed gardens

i'll **** on the flaming sword
spinning like i do
heavenly gates

i'll put AA batteries on
my ******* and force
feed the north star
until it bursts

i'll stain the glass in windows
extolling failures and shining
blunders under vaulted

i'll be nothing less than
the imperfect son of
an imperfect man and
an imperfect

all too human
after all
The weeds live side by side,
With the roses in a meadow,
The fallen branches of a dead tree,
Help its neighbor grow,
Nothing ever ends,
Death is not an impasse,
When you’re gone,
I’ll look for you in a blade of grass.
Maha Sep 2020
perhaps I am a ****.
despite her best efforts to contain me, and his unpleasant grounds keeping, I grew.
I don't believe I'll bloom any time soon, but I keep growing.
Though, I can't help but wondering,
How would have I been had they raised me like a flower?
About Me
Elizabeth Zenk Aug 2020
it wasn’t the earth that brought them here. Nor grass nor tree
instead a solemn scavenger
disinterested of it’s grateful treasures

sprinkling not like rain but like ashes
a goodbye unsaid and unheard
a kiss blown from armies away
hoping it may reach his camp

no god brought it here
as we fight our wars and **** our brothers
it did not fall from heaven
pushing through a crowd of loss

may there be no reason for its being
but persist it must
in hope for its spawns survival
growing evermore

through the cracks, they pray that shrapnel escapes
not all are so lucky as they
blood spilling for their passage on

they are no villains
just weaken souls in need of homes
so far from where their lovers lay,
in bed with other men

deployed as her seed will be too
in the wind together
Cox Jul 2020
You can be a small flower in life.
You may struggle to bloom.
To settle your roots.
To have the perfect position for the sunshine.
What you really need to do is **** your garden.
Your field.
Then, and only then, open your petals as wide and beautiful that they can go.
And just bloom.
Sometimes all we need is to empty those holding us back, only then in order to rise.
To rise to the sun.
Written: 6/6/20, 2:47AM.
A friendly reminder that weeding is important for growth.
Next page