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Kora Sani Nov 2021
i always felt
like i was lost
in a field of wildflowers
i could be plucked out
at any time
and things would still remain
havenx Mar 2021
t's fall out here now.


a haven it was once                                                             ­                     

now a mourning ground.


For you this year                                                             ­                                           

wildflowers I leave


The sky under which I walk

the memories you left with me

all bear down on me

inside and out.


I can hear you laughing.

the sound carries

through the cold air.

Serene and sure.


Leaves crunch under my bare feet.

I can feel them.

They keep me here

Even when all other reason fails


I cannot walk into your tomb.

My feet refuse to move

an inch beyond that pretty wood.

So I stand at our door listening

to that soul trapped inside.


A warm voice crooning

some long forgotten song

a myriad of sounds and images

buried behind that door


The sky under which I walk

the memories you left with me

all bear down on me

inside and out.

- havenx
D Jan 2021
A meadow filled with wildflowers,
Caressing your legs as you walk.
A space so vast,
It seems the earth kisses the sky.

Sunlight filters through the trees,
Highlighting your contented face.
Eyes closed embracing the sun's warmth,
Capturing this perfect moment.  

A smile so small,
That it could be missed.
As I lay in this meadow of wildflowers,
I look over to you and feel at last I am safe.
Grace Jan 2021
I've spent
years of tears
and now I'm broke.
But, my darling,
it's not worth so much
if it cost you all that anyway.
Tears are so crucial and this poem isn't saying they aren't. It's just, you deserve something more if you're at cause to cry tears of pain all the time... at least with what I know.
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2020

Poppies, wild in a quarry,
Orange, brighter than sun,
Thrusting thoroughly gravel,
Bold as soul crossing sticks
Into ****** pagan heydays,
A crop of colours branding
The loose stipend of stones,
One windy trail-flare shock,
A bulwark of stars, so laden
On landed, maiden shores,
The first batillion breaking,
By mighty petal, prim hands
Fiercly alive atop the lifeless,
Gravely low, defeated soot.
gracie Jun 2020
You never knew the garden
I grew from within
or the ripe honeysuckles
intertwined with my ribs
you never pressed your mouth
to my pink primrose lips
or felt your hands laced
between my fern fingertips
you never saw the buttercups
brim behind my eyes
or the soft blue forget-me-nots
speckling my thighs
you never heard my voice
not a laugh, not a word
so don’t tell me I’m missing
what you found in her.
Levi Andrew Jun 2020
today i picked you some wildflowers
i saw them there on the side of the road on my way to you

i flashed back to a time when we first met
when my heart was so cold and my brain
was so blue

i sat there staring at those flowers
they were absolutely breathtaking
just like the first moment i saw you

sky blue eyes, sunshine smile

and in that moment
i knew you’d take the hurt and the pain,
and turn it into something..

...absolutely breathtaking

and in that moment
you pushed me to be something
better than i’ve ever been

whenever i see wildflowers,
no matter where,
i’ll always think of the breathtaking you
the person who helped me through

© Levi Andrew
this is a redo to an old poem that i wrote 3 years back. i love this one more than the original.
Samara Jun 2020
wild flowers
growing in the rough

let them grow
where they go
thriving sure enough
Fiona May 2020
It was a quiet place
Inside of that red room
Until the wind from inside shook the walls
Collapsing them outward
As the walls fell around her
The wildflowers appeared.
Growing rapidly
The red walls were replaced by
Blue Purple Yellow faces with Green stems.
She climbed those green stems,
For a long time.
So long she reached the top,
Where the Blue Purple Yellow faces stared into the sun.
She lay a top those wildflowers.
Closing her eyes,
Suddenly surrounded by red.
Inspired by Wild Flower, Fiona re-imagines the poem, 2 of 2.
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