#marigold - Hello Poetry

the cloak, rips apart the castle, comes crumbling down the marigold, wilts away you and i, foreverbound honesty, in my every breath a lie, in each of yours who are you really, beneath whatever you pretend to be?

0

Jul 4, 2025

Jul 4, 2025 at 10:07 AM UTC

refractedstar

skinwalker

the cloak, rips apart the castle, comes crumbling down the marigold, wilts away you and i, foreverbound honesty, in my every breath a lie, in each of yours who are you really, beneath whatever you pretend to be?

14

Everywhere I could be your scent persists. Vibrant. Brissiling. Blooming out to the edge of sight. This bed of flowers that follows. What fragrant colors fill my day: Platinum, pale gold, indigo as you linger on me, rested in rich black soil. So familiar it seems a mirage.

0

Mar 17, 2025

Mar 17, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC

Koudda

Marigold

Everywhere I could be your scent persists. Vibrant. Brissiling. Blooming out to the edge of sight. This bed of flowers that follows. What fragrant colors fill my day: Platinum, pale gold, indigo as you linger on me, rested in rich black soil. So familiar it seems a mirage.

13

I pick apart the marigolds petals in my hands wishing for way back then. Why did you leave me? When our future looked so bright together. The garden wilts everyday. The thorns overgrow on the cliff we used to sit on. We had forever Why did you leave me here. When the day passes noon There is only silence to keep me company Your shadow still overcasts the empty spot to my left Your eyes still tear through the running creek water. The sun has never been the same I thought we would get through this together. Now I am here, overgrown, exhausted, and desperate This garden will burn along with me. I sit in the same cliff, letting the crackling of the flames keep me company with its twisted disharmony. I pick apart the marigold in my hands. At least its not silent anymore. -Kore

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Mar 7, 2021

Mar 7, 2021 at 11:56 AM UTC

chokingonflowers

Nocturne Op. 27

I pick apart the marigolds petals in my hands wishing for way back then. Why did you leave me? When our future looked so bright together. The garden wilts everyday. The thorns overgrow on the cliff we used to sit on. We had forever Why did you leave me here. When the day passes noon There is only silence to keep me company Your shadow still overcasts the empty spot to my left Your eyes still tear through the running creek water. The sun has never been the same I thought we would get through this together. Now I am here, overgrown, exhausted, and desperate This garden will burn along with me. I sit in the same cliff, letting the crackling of the flames keep me company with its twisted disharmony. I pick apart the marigold in my hands. At least its not silent anymore. -Kore

20

In Summer, Our love was set ablaze Like the marigolds, Red and yellow all throughout. As if the Sun kissed a flower, The embodiment of our fire-- It would grow until it burned out.

0

Jan 28, 2021

Jan 28, 2021 at 5:55 AM UTC

Cyrus

In Summer

In Summer, Our love was set ablaze Like the marigolds, Red and yellow all throughout. As if the Sun kissed a flower, The embodiment of our fire-- It would grow until it burned out.

7

Skin, soft and fragile as marigold petals Bones thin as papier-mâché Holding the shape of a person I love Holding together our bodies of clay Candles, dimming light behind the eyes Weary wind slipping through parched lips Sweet and weak the voice of a person I love Spirit readying voyage on vanishing ships

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Oct 30, 2019

Oct 30, 2019 at 12:55 AM UTC

XNtricity

Skin and Bones

Skin, soft and fragile as marigold petals Bones thin as papier-mâché Holding the shape of a person I love Holding together our bodies of clay Candles, dimming light behind the eyes Weary wind slipping through parched lips Sweet and weak the voice of a person I love Spirit readying voyage on vanishing ships

8

#*Velvety sunshine Fields of golden marigolds Chasing cirrus clouds* ✨✨

0

Oct 22, 2019

Oct 22, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC

sarita-aditya-verma

Chasing Sunshine

#*Velvety sunshine Fields of golden marigolds Chasing cirrus clouds* ✨✨

4

#*The Sun is mellow Vibrant orange marigolds Pleasant winter days*#

0

Oct 30, 2018

Oct 30, 2018 at 6:29 AM UTC

sarita-aditya-verma

Winter days

#*The Sun is mellow Vibrant orange marigolds Pleasant winter days*#

3

Kissing her magic soul I couldn't help but notice She smelled of marigold perfume And the fresh blooms of revolution.

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Oct 19, 2018

Oct 19, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC

restrayer

Fresh Blooms of Revolution

Kissing her magic soul I couldn't help but notice She smelled of marigold perfume And the fresh blooms of revolution.

4

Drunk high on desire Rich memories of you You gallant cruel liar A brisk heavenly brew Leaving no goodbye Where persimmon leaves blow Now here you lie Beneath gray snow Although I asked You did not stay Nor reason you passed Merely could not say And though the vine Of may bells ring Thy marigolds bless wine And bring soft spring

0

Mar 1, 2018

Mar 1, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC

anyamcghee

Ran

Drunk high on desire Rich memories of you You gallant cruel liar A brisk heavenly brew Leaving no goodbye Where persimmon leaves blow Now here you lie Beneath gray snow Although I asked You did not stay Nor reason you passed Merely could not say And though the vine Of may bells ring Thy marigolds bless wine And bring soft spring

16

I started my garden with a little patch of marigolds I got from the market down the street. They were pretty, I guess. I really only chose them because there was the easiest option, since they were already grown and all I had to do was stick them in the dirt and look at them. I walked passed them most days without a second glance.

0

Mar 23, 2017

Mar 23, 2017 at 8:15 AM UTC

maxime

Flowers in My Garden: Chapter 1

I started my garden with a little patch of marigolds I got from the market down the street. They were pretty, I guess. I really only chose them because there was the easiest option, since they were already grown and all I had to do was stick them in the dirt and look at them. I walked passed them most days without a second glance.

1

She was ugly. A snake of a girl- beady blue eyes and blood-red toenails. The small snigger creeping up through her perfectly kept teeth as she spat at the garbage of the street: the creatures she couldn’t see through her beady blue eyes. Her mama would dress her up in yellow ribbons and green bows. “Why honey, you make a sweet little dandelion,”. She liked to be a dandelion, but secretly she dreamed of being a marigold: Lips parted to the sun, seeds planted in the rich soil of her own blackness. She wanted to be a marigold. But she was just a dandelion, stepping on petals and weeding out whatever she longed to be.

0

May 21, 2015

May 21, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC

kenna-mcc

After The Bluest Eye

She was ugly. A snake of a girl- beady blue eyes and blood-red toenails. The small snigger creeping up through her perfectly kept teeth as she spat at the garbage of the street: the creatures she couldn’t see through her beady blue eyes. Her mama would dress her up in yellow ribbons and green bows. “Why honey, you make a sweet little dandelion,”. She liked to be a dandelion, but secretly she dreamed of being a marigold: Lips parted to the sun, seeds planted in the rich soil of her own blackness. She wanted to be a marigold. But she was just a dandelion, stepping on petals and weeding out whatever she longed to be.

31

Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.

0

Apr 26, 2014

Apr 26, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC

martin-narrod

good night moon

Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.

1