#bud
My alarm went off this morning, like a slow clap.
My beauty routine for-surely isn’t sleep.
My phone was dead, which put the “ugh” in unplugged.
and by 5:25am I was multitasking - both running late and stressing.
Here are my bud, thorn, and a rose for the week so far..
My bud (something I’m looking forward to) is:
I got a new computer - but that’s just consumerism - let’s shoot higher, like the texture of my soul. I want to be the kind of woman my Grandmère thinks I am, but in mea culpa, my sleep scores, screen time reports, smart rings, focus timers and activity dashboards don’t look good. Will I ever be enough? I’m working on it.
My thorn (challenge or low point):
It’s official, I missed Paris Fashion week (Mar.2-10).
Paris waits for no one - or maybe it’s just me - what good is being in Paris, the defining city of fashion, if you’re stuck in classes and can’t attend Fashion week??
My rose (highlight or positive moment):
My metro commute to uni’s become a real-life, real-time group chat
as I have new friends that board the metro at my first stop.
Don’t get me wrong, I can be independent and slay a playlist alone,
but when the train ride needs energy - we can wake it up!
As spring begins to slowly stalk us - with warmth and sunny skies -
I don’t need counseling, I need a beach.
.
.
Songs for this:
Summer Baby by Jonas Brothers
Only The Lonely by The Motels
Get the Party Started by P!nk
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 9:45 AM UTC
Take my hand
Walk on the blood
Pluck the young
And the immature bud
White blooms wave
Still to get plucked
Or the sweet nectar
To be ******
The ones still left
Dry in the sun
Some disappear
In the smoke of gun
Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 7:03 AM UTC
There once was a god of Pegana
Who smoked some hirsute marijuana:
He went ******* mental
And trans-transcendental
And landed, ****** up, in Nirvana.
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 4:03 AM UTC
You're in my head; you're in
Like rabies.
I've got you under my skin,
Like scabies.
You broke my heart; you're heart-
Attacking.
You crack me up. I ****
I'm cracking.
Sep 28, 2024
Sep 28, 2024 at 11:28 AM UTC
When I was just a drowsy bud to bloom,
I heard the murmur of the playful breeze
Whispering spicy spiels of far-off seas -
I longed to grow, to rise from my gloom.
Alas! I was born a flashing flower,
Dancing wild, teasing the naughty bees,
Winking at him, flirting in the shower -
Weeping at night for a mild parting kiss.
Now I long to embrace that bemused me;
Winter arrives with his white, cruel shiver,
Wiping my brightness and my gentle plea,
Freezing me soft beneath grains of silver.
Nov 25, 2025
Nov 25, 2025 at 12:20 AM UTC
underneath the covers, no worries of lovers
too busy focused on the uncovering of all my budding flowers
of all my seeds sproutings, if spirit is allowing
springtime is my favourite, it's a fresh start
to be better and bigger than before
to pick yourself up and wish for more
so I will wish for more, more than men who are decor
so I wish to explore, a man not plagued with internal wars
one that is not afraid to see what lies behind the door
one that is not afraid to let their heart pour
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 10:37 AM UTC
I kissed a rose in a garden,
an innocent bud newly formed,
out of pity. It’s beauty’s *******
by your cheerful smile, my love.
🌹
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 10:35 AM UTC
The rose caressed my fingers.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
My eyes could only see red.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
Ready to peel the sweet bud -
"he loves me, he loves me not."
His gentle fingers grazed mine.
"I love you, I love you so."
His eyes were milk chocolates.
"I love you, I love you so."
The petals clung to the rose.
"I love you, I love you so."
Sep 15, 2021
Sep 15, 2021 at 1:52 AM UTC
Leaning into the bud of the night
the moon is still wake
tonight sleep no one!
Ask me not why?
Narrative is the tuberose's
and the fireflies'
me too is wake!
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 6:07 PM UTC
I sent you a bouquet of words,
But you wanted flowers.
I promise they will outgrow any bud,
Into the tallest of towers.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 5:11 AM UTC
Like buds open soft,
Mind blooms with no serenade.
But it's pure fragrance,
Reaches distant akin hearts.
The symphony tolling long...
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 1:36 AM UTC
tiny fragile bud
clean prune cultivate nurture—
precious child blossoms
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
he is my spring
and i’m his flower
a bud that blooms at his voice
and withers in his absence
my spring came with rain and
gently washed away my woes.
he is my spring
but what will happen to my bud
when it becomes
summer?
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 5:17 PM UTC
Soar above your pains by coddling them.
Rise above your wounds by embracing them.
Ascend above your sorrows by accepting them!
Intertwine them, hold tight to their emotional charge,
Convert them to positive energy, and
Make them a part of your prayer temple!
Your wound is the place
Where flowers will blossom
With a rainbow of spring colors!
Your pain is the place
Where your cure will emerge
with the birth of a new dawn and renewed purpose!
Your sorrow is the place
Where joy will bud
With a life full of hope and optimism!
Hussein Dekmak
Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 2:50 PM UTC
I entered to the fear room
With a bunch of sadness
Full of hate buds
You put the bunch
Into the passion treasure
Wishing to bloom each bud
As a compassion flower
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC
She bathes in the sun’s blazing rays,
still confused of what she is
She glides passionately as the moon goddess guides her shadow
She is intense, powerful, and radiant as the sun, yet playful, delicate, and precious as the moon
She adores her sun as it makes her ready to face her exciting days
Yet she worships her moon as it makes her strong to battle her cold, lonesome, and lengthy nights
She is soft yet she has strength,
she’s fragile yet she’s tough
Her sun is her compass but her moon is her light
She has her sun, she has her moon
She then remembers, she is a bud ready to bloom
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 7:48 AM UTC
No, No, No,
I don't know
what will happen
tomorrow!
But, Look, Look, Look,
I am happy today
and now!
This wait is sweet,
My beloved is sweet,
A delicate bud is she,
An apple of my eyes, is she!
I write a poem for her,
A kiss would be better,
Sing this song of mine,
She is about to come,
it is already nine!
© Manan sheel.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 7:57 PM UTC
We've grown together, no doubt
We hang out in the clouds and clouds roll out
I hold her close as she ignites my passions and dreams
She takes me from all the drama it seems
Some may criticise but don't realize
We're made for each other
you can see it in the eyes
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
A sparrow, tweets.
A still creature somewhere in a yellow vacant tweets.
An open-hearted orphan, tweets.
Gloomy buds! They want to be flowers.
Blood drifts through the head and whiplashes me for your affection.
Emotionally choked by a memento-to-be makes me a burnt wood.
Beheaded bodies collapsing;
Time floods the corpses;
****** heads stick everywhere, as memories do.
A dagger stabbed in flesh tears it away;
Dripping blood, trumbling tissue;
The progeny are all already slaughtered.
A face is sprinkled by a loved one reddish gore, autopsying the memories.
Unjust? Carnivore brutality?
Celebrate the night when sun shines;
Hear out the thunderous waterfall noise;
Roll over on green to reach the orange warmth.
Kiss, literally;
Love, figuratively.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC