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Erian Oct 8
His wildflower heart
Set a spark in my chest
That no other could compare
To these October showers
And our unfamiliar bliss
Eloisa Jul 10
My dreamland’s gateway
opens up a gorgeous field of flowers
And there at its center proudly sways
In stripy purplish-pink is a handsome wildflower
I do adore those wild and free
though I love all kinds of blooms and hold no preference
And when I saw him in his fragrant sanctuary
I felt a kind of reverence
And among those beauty of its kind
I surely won’t forget
The sweetest moment when he smiled
The wondrous time when we’ve first met
annh Jun 26
on delicate stems
wildflower quavers quiver
in the bluesy breeze
5-7-5
‘And here’s to the blues, the real blues - where there’s a hint of hope in every cry of desperation.’
- David Mutti Clark, Professor Brown Shoes Teaches the Blues
Makayla Jane May 22
She's like a wildflower,
Beautiful and carefree
She goes with the flow
And finds beauty in everythin'
Her only motivation - the sun and the wind
The ability to love herself, a power within
She counts the bumblebees as they buzz by
While some come to stay others just say 'Bye.'
She treats them kindly and gives them her all
Sweet and vulnerable, in hopes they don't sting
After all, herself,
Another human being
Feel free to share revision ideas (:
This poem is dedicated to my best friend Jen~
A Yorks May 18
Ay mibladi, mibladi!
Shanchira su mibushmi!
Mibi dwash misamlaga
Na syurgi magam wayda
Gwifa haywa gwayfam
Nachi manamkwa.
Ay mibladi, mibladi!
Shanchira su mibushmi!
Mibi dwash misamlaga
Na syurgi magam wayda
Sa 'pa damsha gwamasa
Ba mu wacham!
From a Hungarian folk song.

"Oh, my wildflower, my wildflower!
My good world comes to an end!
Far from me is my lover,
I cannot find a trace of him,
I live a lonely life,
And await death.
Oh, my wildflower, my wildflower!
My good world comes to an end!
Far from me is my lover,
I cannot find a trace of him,
That he would return home,
How I wish!"
Roman Payne May 5
I once had a love
who folded secrets between her thighs
like napkins,
and concealed memories in the valley
of her *******.
There was no match for the freckles on her chest,
and no one could mistake them for a field
of honeysuckles.
Upon her lips,
a thousand lies were spread in sweet gloss.
Her kiss was like a storybook of medieval chivalry,
or a poem from ancient history.
She was at home with the body of a man
inside her,
beside her.
And those night she lay in bed crying,
no one could mistake the tears she wept
for a summer shower.
She is gone, my Love.
She was a wanderess,
a wildflower.
Some girls are red roses
Romantic and loving
Bold and red

Some girls are sunflowers
They shining like the sun each time they enter the room

Some girls are carnations
They love the sisters that they have

Some are lilies
Tender, floating and graceful

Some are cherry blossoms
So pretty but only bloom for a couple of days

What kind of flower am I, you ask?

I am a wildflower
Nothing holding me back
I have the fire
Burning inside of me
I am a cage less phoenix
And no trap will trap me
I am the tameless spirit
Of a wildflower
Day 3 of month long poetry prompt challenge
Someone once compared me to a rose
What a flower to be
Blooming only in the best conditions
With perfect tending
And tedious attentions
Beautiful, but thorny
Admirable, but painful to hold
Offering their beauty only
To those so fortunate
As to be in the garden
No
I'm not a rose
I'm the wildflower that
Offers beauty to all around it
Grows wherever it lands
Withstands the storm
And finds the sun
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".
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