#clover
I am a child,
wondersome and awestruck.
A bird with the wind beneath my wings,
a wild horse in vast rolling landscapes.
I am the sun warming the grass
where I lie with my lover,
summer honeysuckle heavy in the air.
I am a four-leaf clover in a witch’s garden.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 3:18 PM UTC
Luck of the draw,
Lucked out from flaws,
Lucky is the breaking mirror.
How unfortunate for the Clover
Whose wind had brought her nearer
To the black cat,
The camp of bats,
The magpie who points destination
To a rainbow through a latter
While chirping present ticks in fascination.
How unfortunate for the Clover
Whose vision couldn’t be clearer.
She saw the birds fly west, then east;
She saw the trail the ****** left
On its rampant quest to feast
On flesh, on glass, on salt, on past
Memories of serendipity
And the seven years of misery
The mirror lost, all at the cost
Of pondering his love.
Its ink would run, and pages dry,
Its eyes would trace a butterfly
Of clouds of clay and molded slates
And the most impressive of junior art.
But it all mattered not,
For despite where was the start-
The broken reflection
Only showed a tattered angel.. with four wings-
How lucky to find a Clover here-
To have been seen by a Clover here-
To have been seen.
Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 2:20 PM UTC
she may have claimed
that she could always
find one of those rare
desperately sought
four-leaf clovers
amongst any cluster
that had sprouted
amidst the grass
and **** growth
of park or pasture
but never once did she
try to find one
for me
Sep 18, 2023
Sep 18, 2023 at 9:58 AM UTC
It doesn’t matter
how much weight you carry.
It’s about how you distribute.
Pain diffusion
is like sunlight through leaves;
it takes courage
to let brightness pierce through
and kiss you.
So stay with me,
right here,
by your tree roots,
where cyclamen grow.
Hold my hand
like you always knew me.
Forgive my shyness
as I fidget
with toe rings of clover -
I promise;
I’m less and less scared -
I still love your wildness.
I feel you,
all over.
Eyes,
of Pure Water.
My lack of sharpness
is yearning to soften your edges.
I’m floating above your garden,
weightless.
The ripeness of fruit
that your highest tree bares,
smells like a rose
you delivered.
If we really are here
to mirror,
all I want to do for you
is shimmer.
Nov 4, 2022
Nov 4, 2022 at 9:06 AM UTC
i spent
the afternoon on the
lawn in a clover patch
plucking the 4th leaf off
because last month
was so clouded
and i shone too bright
too gaudy
but now i'm here
fixing these little ********
taking their 4th
leaving 3
increasing their chance of survival
like i did with that worm
on the sidewalk this morning
i
picked her up and
hurled her into grass and
I didn't look back.
sometimes salvation is violent.
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 5:09 PM UTC
You shatter the windows
and hold your hands
under the falling pieces
of my cracked heart.
How does it feel to feel
the millions of fragments
from every unlike window
of the once glowed heart.
How does it feel to feel
the pieces glowing now
to look at the reflection
of past, present and love.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 5:27 PM UTC
Find a penny pick it up,
With this coin
I ran out of luck...
Bent down just as car drove past
clipped me and
now I'm
Outtttttttttt…
Took a while but I'm back on
my feet..
what are the chances a four leaf
clover and a horse shoe neat..
No... the horse shoe was still
connected to the feet...
I shouted four as flew through
the air....
then it licked my face before that
shoe stood on my piece..
I'm out the hospital, and I saw a
ladder, na I'm not having that.
On the outside, but I never say the
black cat..
I came to, and she was there,
are you an angel..
No love, You've just been served.
My luck is less my future short,
but ill carry on as how
can it get worse, is that thunder
I can hear??
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 6:54 PM UTC
You are the four-leafed clover
in my garden.
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 1:00 PM UTC
I wander through the garden with skies so blue
how lucky I am to have found you
on my darkest days, when I've lost my way
you remind me that life is more than grey
you bring color into my eyes, warmth through my veins
and yet all you do is stand here in the rain
you remind me of the simple pleasures in life, that beauty comes in all forms
you remind me to take a deep breath, you're the calm before the storm
so I'll leave you here for another, a wanderer down your path thank you four leaf clover for bringing my sunshine back
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC
Clover take cover!
People pick you to soothe their bitter reality.
You may be the lucky one, but you cannot escape the harsh hands longing for you.
After all, everyone wishes to quiet down their demons.
Oh clover, take cover!
If only you didn't give people promise.
If only you ran away from your own utopia...... like those **** leprechauns you once called your friends.
"Chase the golden coin",
-But, dad always says,
"Everything that's shine ain't always gonna be gold"
Oh clover, take cover
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC
Did not God want to be cherished
to cultivate and co-create
but instead we consume
like beautiful glowing fire
and maybe the ashes will make something
but dust to dust we are
maybe to burn is to live
like stars can fuel planets
is it distant passion or suffering
at least brief life flickers warm
time alone seems so expansive and cold
and eternity, as a dark vacuum that no fire can touch
is it better to suffer and live
or do you envy the crushing quiet of nonexistence
a speck of dust on a clover can't see where it's blowing
but somehow red light tells us that distance is growing
if human is dust
are we not a literal residue of some combustion
were then the Universe and God having tea together and laughing about us
And when people talk about them fighting
Are the two mistaken for each other?
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC
Four years old.
Four years old is the perfect age
To know enough about yourself
And not enough about the world.
To know everything you absolutely need to know
Before the world strips it away
And replaces it with a fake sort of knowing.
Four years old,
Old enough to recognize something that will drive you
For the rest of your life.
Four years old was I,
And four years old was he,
Mattie,
My Mattie,
When we met in the sticker-burr ridden play yard
Of a daycare,
And at four years old,
We became peaceful companions,
Slower,
Quieter,
And just a bit more odd,
Than the rest.
At four years old,
Mattie had a silliness about him,
And a funny way of talking through his missing teeth.
At four years old,
We avoided the violent, flying swings and sprinting, shrieking children,
And we scoured the outskirts of the yard
For four leaf clovers.
Mattie was a four leaf clover.
Incredible,
Unique,
And found by chance.
Because Mattie’s silliness and funny voice and missing teeth
Were not simply because we were four years old,
But because
Mattie came from a mom
Who couldn’t stop.
Mattie’s mom couldn’t stop doing drugs,
Not for a single day.
Not when her belly swelled with Mattie inside,
Not when he came into the world,
Breathing the air she did,
Drinking the milk she made,
Mattie’s mom couldn’t stop.
He was buried beneath clusters of clovers,
And his four, perfect leaves were nearly withered away,
When his parents found him.
His parents,
Two incredible women,
Who had so much love in their hearts,
They couldn’t help but let it overflow
Into the cup of a small child with bright eyes and dwindling breath.
Mattie,
My four leaf clover,
Is happy today.
Today,
Mattie,
No longer four years old,
But a man,
Is about to be a doctor.
My four leaf clover,
Who looked to his mothers like the most beautiful child that was ever born,
With the sharpest wit
And the most brilliant smile,
At the end of the day,
Is simply another clover.
His beauty and his value,
Are what we give him.
His rarity, his singularity,
Is something we create,
Something we fashion for him
Out of love and acceptance.
To this day,
I lean down and examine patches of clover,
The image of Mattie,
Gently counting leaves with chubby, toddler fingers,
Burnt into my memory.
And to this day,
I hold in my heart the hope,
That I will meet a child,
My own Mattie,
My own rarity,
My own treasure,
My own little four leaf clover.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
On that half acre of swamp,
there sits rotting wood, countless species of pests and bothers
history of love, hate, pain, and growth,
there sits a home, a house, a building, full to the brim,
with memories? Impulsive decisions?
Just a lot of "stuff"...
Right off the path the lawn sits untouched,
mossy patches, clovers and thatch, weeds and flowers,
ever since i was little they've been there,
ever since i was little Iv'e had such luck,
What happens when they sell that property, does the stuff go to waste?
That "stuff" was born of waste and now when i need luck the most, winters frost sinks those clovers much like the "stuff" in the ditch down the road,
But does my luck sink as well? Or will it grow and bloom next spring into something greater?
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
Forever Evermore
Walk with me
through fields of clover
Lay me down
in sheets of linen
Let me see the dazzle
of the candlelight
in the brilliance
of Your ways
We will walk
when all has answer
We will kiss
beneath that tree
We will know
all has come full-circle
in a moment
just We between
Then remember
to never say never
No never
Nevermore
For my love
will hold You always
On the crossing
and beyond the river
To that place
of Forever and Ever...
and Forever Evermore
-R.
(11)
-SB
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
I have busted my **** sliding down rainbows
And fell through many pink clouds on my ear.
I always whistle as I pass by graveyards
Threw hundreds in wishing wells, over the years.
I defaulted my rent on castles in the air.
I carefully avoided stepping on any cracks.
I walk endless miles not to walk under ladders.
I carefully avoid walking near any cat if it is black.
I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.
I’ve cramps in my fingers from them being crossed.
I would never break any kind of mirror, of course .
And I still have salt sprinkled on my shoulders.
Wishing on many stars, I have made myself hoarse.
I always look away when a funeral goes by.
I spit in my palm when I hear something spooky.
I drop coins into the bowls of all beggars
Even though most of my friends think me kooky.
It’s not like I go broke on soothsayers
And buy all the amulets I see on TV.
But It makes little sense to take a moment
To avoid the omens anyone can see.
Yes I buy copper bracelets to save me
From arthritis or rheumatism of my knee.
I never wear clothing the color of blood,
That only makes common sense to me.
Some think I’m a few boards short of a fence
Be that as it may, and all well and good
My guess is you all have looked around
To find something so you could knock on wood.
I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
Saw a single clover...
Peeking out from the crack in the wall.
All alone... With no other.
Shivering in the wind.
Still it braved the unknown.
Just to see...
What was shown.
Touched the single clover.
So much courage within something so small,
so green and frail.
Standing tall in the torrential gale.
So much I could take and learn from it.
I shall make it my daily inspiration.
I shall leave it be.
So that on my daily walk back,
it could say to me,
*"I'm still here, you are too.
Let's keep on, keeping on,
till our days are through."*
On my walk back today,
I have looked forward to see the clover I've learnt to adore.
Only to find that it had gone missing...
It just wasn't there anymore.
The crack was vacant...
I looked all around.
I finally looked down...
And there it was on the ground.
A twisted corpse of what once was...
The storm earlier had ripped it off its perch.
The winds had overcome and left it in the lurch.
Grounded and defenceless,
It quickly became the target of many footsteps
belonging to people too oblivious.
The clover is dead.
But it's still so green.
As I looked at it,
I imagined what it would have said,
*"Keep on, keeping on.
You won't truly know...
You won't really learn...
And life won't show,
if you get too afraid of the storm.
And then you won't grow.
Stick your head out
and never be too scared...
To see and be a part of the wonders of the world
that the universe has infinitely shared."*
.
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
7 o'clock
a light summertime dream
just before dark
unfolding it's scheme
painted in sandals
clovered kissed toes
lovely green shamrocks
are standing in prose
a fierce looking cat
Amber eyes
silver fur
bunting her leg
and giving a purrrr
getting back home
nearly hour gone by
look to the tree
playing ball in the sky
it looks like the moon
nearly 3 quarter size
outlined in countries
is neatly disguised
it's actually a ball
playing with leaves
That thing called the moon
has some tricks up its sleeves
she saw it glide down
and bounce off of a cloud
tipping it's hat
and bowing to town
See you tomorrow
her group of new friends
this just the beginning
we're far from the end
No need for luck
with her beau in the sky
a 3 quartered boy
with love in his eyes
she bows to the moon
as her Gypsy skirt flows
silver cat walking
wherever she goes
shamrock tipped pom poms
will twinkle her toes
Another summer time walk
with his dearest of Maidens
her toes and her eyes
are moon dipped and ladden
Goodnight Moon.
Cherie Nolan© 2016
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
I remember the first time i saw you
I admit your not that so attractive
But don't get me wrong your beautiful
Your with the other clover
Trying to fit in.
Then years pass i didn't notice that I've been watering you
And actually made me incomplete when i dint see you just for a day
You even gloom with a pretty leaves
But still until now you can't stand alone.
I pick you coz i know your special.
You've been my ***** Buddy
We created many memories.
We shared everything..
And now i want you to let your confident shine
Not everyone has a stick to carry you all along.
I'm just a wind.. i could pass from your sight.
Whenever you miss me just close your eyes
A melody will pass through your ear saying;
*"Your perfect as what my eyes see,
your not alone coz like a wind you cant see me but
i assure to you that you will feel me.
I love you my ***** Buddy"*
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
Here I stand a on the edge again
Wishing I didn't have to swim
The sharks are showing their fins
Wish I could just end it all
I'm already fully in the fall
No one hears my screams, my call
I just want it to be over
Lay me down in the sweet clover
Do it now before I'm sober
I can't take the pursue
All that's left inside is ruptured
Leave me for the rapture
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC