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PrernaK Feb 24
my mother would say,
"Some people are moon
of a haunted night,
but child never forget
you're the wildflower
that grows without any light.

you shall grow,
you will grow,
you must grow
You must fight
to become the light
of the haunted night".
Raven Woodfort Dec 2018
The sky was in her
       eyes - blue with
clouds floating in her smile.
Her voice rushed
       of pines
in a breeze, her hair told of green meadows
  in the spring;
she scented of northern lights...

     And I knew I had met a wildflower.
To all those precious wildflowers out there.
Deniz Eilmore Sep 2018
Lost somewhere between wallflower and wildflower
Delia Darling Sep 2018
As I stand here, outside my work building
stealing a smoke break
I wonder about God and the universe
and how much happier it makes me feel
to believe in other things

That the sun was a running man
chasing the stars in that endless black
run man
run fast
run free
but freedom only gets you
slipping and sliding in circular leaps
around our earth, almost like
a clumsy mouse in a stationary wheel
and these sneaky stars
always one step ahead at sunrise
or at his heels in sunset

My mom’s a Catholic woman
she won’t believe in the running man
her stars are not stars, no
her stars are rosaries in purses and
priest’s words
taught words
holy words
but holy words are also
human words, are they not?
It never made sense to me
that a person could live their whole life
repenting it

But then again,
my dad used to have me work in our yard,
picking the weeds outside
and he let me treasure them in a vase
he never called them weeds,
they were always
dandy-flowers
wishing flowers
wildflowers
but wild only gets you
believing in the sun and
keeping shrubs in vases
All of which suit me, because

In the lonely nights of endless black,
I have the company of my own stars
and when holy words of weeds fall back
I remember that—
wild humans are only wildflowers
Just some random thoughts induced by an insignificant smoke break
Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
“Angelica arguta”,
He shows her his wildflowers
“Angelica Susannah”, he says.
And prodded further by her
His heart.
Lingers briefly with the night;
Her affection has power,
But not enough
To keep him
From marching off to fight.

Tristan, son of One Stab,
Brings wildness from the mountains.
Lovely woman from the East,
Fascinated by her,
His passion.
Revels in her bridal bower,
And stops her
Loving any other.

Alfred, eldest son of his father,
Full of rectitude and romance.
Angelica abandoned,
Adrift between the mountains
Becalmed far from the sea.
He takes advantage,
Snatches her soul with riches,
But never captures
Her longing heart.

Years pass and one son gone,
The other lost and mad.
Year of the red grass and
Happiness found
Is felt too soon.
Tristan loves young Isabel,
But Angelica is his doom.

Yet only he survives
The waves that lash her shore,
“Like water in the ice,
She breaks them.”
And in the Spring,
Is gone once more.

Angelica Susannah is buried
Above the box canyon in the meadow
Among the many dead.
Near Samuel’s heart,
The executed Isabel,
And others who follow soon.
Until only Tristan remains,
Left to hunt his nemesis,
The bear inside him.
And dream of one wife lost,
And a lover left behind:
Angelica Susannah
Beside whom he should lie.

He is slain by the bear in Sixty-three,
After forty years of solitude.
And laid to rest in the plot
Between two women he loved,
Isabel, his ingenuous wife
And Susannah, his tragic love.
Do their spirits meet at last
And wander the golden fields,
Or ride out to bathe in the hot springs,
Under the moon of the falling leaves?
This is dedicated to the characters in the film "Legends of the Fall", about three brothers who fall in love with the same woman, Susannah, and all are destroyed or nearly destroyed by their love. It is not her fault, but Tristan seems cursed, since everyone he loves either dies or is deeply hurt in some way.
sunflower May 2018
You're this one whole world,
created by my poetic imagination.
An ode to love,
A sound so sweet.
You're a delicate soul,
a sunset to all.
They said angels boast ethereal vigor ,
and are formed from seeds of heavenly birth.
You are one of these many seed,
you grow within my heart.
You bloom like a wildflower,
in a field of ethereal road.
And for once,
I will not pick this wildflower,
as I want it to bloom in my heart forever.
For when I was scrolling through picturequotes and found this very beautiful quote by Virgil and it says, 'Angels boast ethereal vigor, and are formed from seeds of heavenly birth.' I could only think of a person. It's you.

ㅡ n.s
Ash Apr 2018
she runs barefoot
through the forest
her braid kissed by
the brush of the wind
sunlight dances on
her almond skin
shes an etheral beauty
of the wild.
for the wild ones
A wildflower!
No one cares
'Bout him
Or her!
She blooms
In the realms
Of 'neglect'
Away from humans
And finds her
Final resort
There!
Oh but is she so unhappy?
Nature has her charms
Her guards
And above all
Her presence
For the wildflower!
Rachael Judd Mar 2018
I am a wildflower,
Strong enough to withstand
Each step that trampled me
Making my petals wilt
Bearing the weight of the summer rain
But able to grow and flourish
Even in the most broken down places
Reaching towards light
For I have grown from the dark.
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