#violet - Hello Poetry

#violet

Sweet soft powdery scent, Your warm tiny body held in my little hand, And our cord still pumping, I gaze at you and hear the name "Celine" whispered from the corners of my head. I can sometimes still feel you in my hand if I position just right. Your blanket no longer smells of that sweet powdery scent but I press it to my chest evermore. My tears burn of violet essence as they roll onto your blanket. The cry I wish I heard haunts me more than anything. The most delicate flower I have ever seen has been diminished into ash and put in this small heart shaped container. Although beautiful nothing compares to a flower still connected to mother earth basking in the sun and swaying in a light breeze. In a field of wild flowers you stand out and I can still smell your sweet soft powdery scent. Your skin as soft as flower petals, Your nose as small as a delicate leaf, And the cord no longer pumping similar to a flower being plucked from the ground. As I know too well a flower once picked will soon meet its demise. But you are the most beautiful flower, and I will never forget the scent of you, The feel of you, Nor can you ever be replaced. Finding the most perfect flower is impossible and I did.

0

Mar 9

Mar 9, 2026 at 7:05 AM UTC

vague-rememberance

Sweet soft powdery scent, Your warm tiny body held in my little hand, And our cord still pumping, I gaze at you and hear the name "Celine" whispered from the corners of my head. I can sometimes still feel you in my hand if I position just right. Your blanket no longer smells of that sweet powdery scent but I press it to my chest evermore. My tears burn of violet essence as they roll onto your blanket. The cry I wish I heard haunts me more than anything. The most delicate flower I have ever seen has been diminished into ash and put in this small heart shaped container. Although beautiful nothing compares to a flower still connected to mother earth basking in the sun and swaying in a light breeze. In a field of wild flowers you stand out and I can still smell your sweet soft powdery scent. Your skin as soft as flower petals, Your nose as small as a delicate leaf, And the cord no longer pumping similar to a flower being plucked from the ground. As I know too well a flower once picked will soon meet its demise. But you are the most beautiful flower, and I will never forget the scent of you, The feel of you, Nor can you ever be replaced. Finding the most perfect flower is impossible and I did.

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i'm a yearner by profession wanting, requiring, praying and pleading, all in silence, while acting nonchalant, 'cause it's the new language in the book of expression. and who wrote it, i wonder? where did the raw vulnerability go? why hide in the shadows while all you wish to sow is seeds of needing— a presence, someone to listen? _"you cursed it, didn't you?"_ but the irony is, i did not. i have never. and perhaps people do admit what they mean when they're angrier, but what of those who simply don't know any other means? anger speaks, frustration cowers, feelings undeter, and suddenly it's all in the plain sight. but i don't mean when i say it— and it's on accident if you hear me. don't call me a curse. i do not hex. i bleed in violet with every scratch that blooms on my skin, birthed accidentally or meant to exist within. hollowed out a perfect doll, tried my best—been twenty years and i'm yet to be put to rest. nine, since it got harder. was i made this way, or did they carve me out the wrong mold? called me cursed, she said so. admitted saying, i thought so. did i really? i wondered. never meant to—was it in the moment, or just mere anger? i didn't, i promised. but it hurt, if i'm being honest. so once again, i went to what comforted. picked up the roses, crushed them with purpose. the thorns bleed—they pinched and pierced. i bled in violet, with no regret or fears. the thunder resembled, like a biography almost. it spoke, said—i'm here. take me whole. i copied, painted, let it take over—let it rake over. it gathered, brought upon all that remained from the very corners, every single ounce of wind. and then it regained—some power, waited, gathered up all the hatred, turned it into lightning, and i bled— against the skies, down the fields, through the streets, over every single one—drenched poor souls, unknown it was my thunder that they entertained. blade-like sharp, violet like bruises, the nights covered me in a blanket, the mornings brought up more such poses. silence sits like a mannequin in every corner. voices arise, aiming to take the pedestal. in the very center, there's no one to guard or stop them from becoming. they play me symphonies— the first says, _congratulations on your undoing._ but what fault do i pay for? is it being unforgivably myself? perhaps i was meant to mask— playing the same game like others. bare-faced wasn't really the best disguise. i cut out metaphors from my skin, built them up, needed muscles— so i raked within. the best of them all— my heart, put forward. forgot the body won't function without its dull weight. it's been there, beating, doing what it ought to do scientifically, but in terms of being human, it sits like it's been dead. sometimes i hold my hand over my chest just to feel—do i exist? am i in the mind, do i continue to persist? funny, the trick they say— 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, 1 you can taste. i've tried it all— but that's my big mistake. should have surrendered when i still had the time. but it isn't anything new. regrets are a constant part of life— of most, actually. they all do. perhaps they don't think or look at life, having to wonder what will come through. when you ought to blame, repeat what they did. unfortunate as it is, you'll have to face the same. curse, i may not be, but i've etched the words to my skin with razor-sharp needles, and they bleed in violet. there's cuts made out of shards— all the mirrors i've thrown, broken through the walls. i fill up a glass full of the bearings for nothing but purpose: to get close, to push far away, gather the mess, save the day. i bring it up, have a taste. it isn't sweet, isn't bitter, isn't even fake. too real— it smells like dark cocoa. the right taste buds, and suddenly i've got a violet tongue. i shall close my eyes, breathe in, as i hear it on loop: call me anything you want. what signifies is what comes true. you're at fault. i'm merely the one facing. i bleed in velvet—but term it violet, 'cause that's the shade they slither under my skin, all that i've heard, crawling within— like worms almost, creepy, looking for the weakest spots. and when they find, they reside, curl up and take a bite—feels like a pinch, like a syringe deep in my vein. and they **** they pull, and no pressure can stop the punctured wounds, so i bleed anyway. it tastes like when pain meets with happy— both fight for dominance. comfort enters, so does wondering, the second-thoughts, words and glances, and suddenly it's a nocturnal nightmare. electric, perhaps— for i get seizures like shock. the drink too heavy, the feelings ****** all the marrow of my life, made me fragile. do not bother, the label reads. cursed, i write over it. and perhaps i've believed and accepted. if that is the case, might as well make it look sacred. so i offer you the wine of the cursed— violet shade, i could call it, _the violet suburban._ and this is me trying, running out of fuel, of words to bleed. so it's all been real, all this while— and since i offered, cursed as it might be, i hope you like the drink.

0

Aug 1, 2025

Aug 1, 2025 at 4:29 PM UTC

poeticaofisshues

i've got a violet tongue

i'm a yearner by profession wanting, requiring, praying and pleading, all in silence, while acting nonchalant, 'cause it's the new language in the book of expression. and who wrote it, i wonder? where did the raw vulnerability go? why hide in the shadows while all you wish to sow is seeds of needing— a presence, someone to listen? _"you cursed it, didn't you?"_ but the irony is, i did not. i have never. and perhaps people do admit what they mean when they're angrier, but what of those who simply don't know any other means? anger speaks, frustration cowers, feelings undeter, and suddenly it's all in the plain sight. but i don't mean when i say it— and it's on accident if you hear me. don't call me a curse. i do not hex. i bleed in violet with every scratch that blooms on my skin, birthed accidentally or meant to exist within. hollowed out a perfect doll, tried my best—been twenty years and i'm yet to be put to rest. nine, since it got harder. was i made this way, or did they carve me out the wrong mold? called me cursed, she said so. admitted saying, i thought so. did i really? i wondered. never meant to—was it in the moment, or just mere anger? i didn't, i promised. but it hurt, if i'm being honest. so once again, i went to what comforted. picked up the roses, crushed them with purpose. the thorns bleed—they pinched and pierced. i bled in violet, with no regret or fears. the thunder resembled, like a biography almost. it spoke, said—i'm here. take me whole. i copied, painted, let it take over—let it rake over. it gathered, brought upon all that remained from the very corners, every single ounce of wind. and then it regained—some power, waited, gathered up all the hatred, turned it into lightning, and i bled— against the skies, down the fields, through the streets, over every single one—drenched poor souls, unknown it was my thunder that they entertained. blade-like sharp, violet like bruises, the nights covered me in a blanket, the mornings brought up more such poses. silence sits like a mannequin in every corner. voices arise, aiming to take the pedestal. in the very center, there's no one to guard or stop them from becoming. they play me symphonies— the first says, _congratulations on your undoing._ but what fault do i pay for? is it being unforgivably myself? perhaps i was meant to mask— playing the same game like others. bare-faced wasn't really the best disguise. i cut out metaphors from my skin, built them up, needed muscles— so i raked within. the best of them all— my heart, put forward. forgot the body won't function without its dull weight. it's been there, beating, doing what it ought to do scientifically, but in terms of being human, it sits like it's been dead. sometimes i hold my hand over my chest just to feel—do i exist? am i in the mind, do i continue to persist? funny, the trick they say— 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, 1 you can taste. i've tried it all— but that's my big mistake. should have surrendered when i still had the time. but it isn't anything new. regrets are a constant part of life— of most, actually. they all do. perhaps they don't think or look at life, having to wonder what will come through. when you ought to blame, repeat what they did. unfortunate as it is, you'll have to face the same. curse, i may not be, but i've etched the words to my skin with razor-sharp needles, and they bleed in violet. there's cuts made out of shards— all the mirrors i've thrown, broken through the walls. i fill up a glass full of the bearings for nothing but purpose: to get close, to push far away, gather the mess, save the day. i bring it up, have a taste. it isn't sweet, isn't bitter, isn't even fake. too real— it smells like dark cocoa. the right taste buds, and suddenly i've got a violet tongue. i shall close my eyes, breathe in, as i hear it on loop: call me anything you want. what signifies is what comes true. you're at fault. i'm merely the one facing. i bleed in velvet—but term it violet, 'cause that's the shade they slither under my skin, all that i've heard, crawling within— like worms almost, creepy, looking for the weakest spots. and when they find, they reside, curl up and take a bite—feels like a pinch, like a syringe deep in my vein. and they **** they pull, and no pressure can stop the punctured wounds, so i bleed anyway. it tastes like when pain meets with happy— both fight for dominance. comfort enters, so does wondering, the second-thoughts, words and glances, and suddenly it's a nocturnal nightmare. electric, perhaps— for i get seizures like shock. the drink too heavy, the feelings ****** all the marrow of my life, made me fragile. do not bother, the label reads. cursed, i write over it. and perhaps i've believed and accepted. if that is the case, might as well make it look sacred. so i offer you the wine of the cursed— violet shade, i could call it, _the violet suburban._ and this is me trying, running out of fuel, of words to bleed. so it's all been real, all this while— and since i offered, cursed as it might be, i hope you like the drink.

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<> "And then one day you came back home You were a creature all in rapture You had the key to your soul And you did open that day you came back to the garden The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine And you were a violet colour as you Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden The summer breeze was blowin' on your face Within your violet you treasure your summery words And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden" In the Garden, song by by Van Morrison <> ***This touches me deep in the chest cavity, the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations, a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and accrue, the mood, for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me for I am but steps away from the garden, and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes, with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses, touches, caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying, overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets, for find myself at the intersection, interlocking crossroads where perfect perfection begins and must meet its natural endings thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations, all impossibilities, challenges, see me, begging itinerant muses in the neighborhood to guide my hand, teach me newsome words, mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment, hearing me solicit their Treasure of Summery Words but they won't, excusing themselves, that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised, all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity, time insufficient to learn a new calculus of addition and bid me calm my heaving chest, seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps awaiting away live in this moment live within this poem, revisit it frequent, weep no more, your stilling heart weakened, take fast what is given now, and be contented, your treasury chest is full, overflowing with this summary of summery*** but I am not, cannot… 7:48:am jul 22

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Jul 22, 2025

Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC

Within your violet, you treasure your summery words...

<> "And then one day you came back home You were a creature all in rapture You had the key to your soul And you did open that day you came back to the garden The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine And you were a violet colour as you Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden The summer breeze was blowin' on your face Within your violet you treasure your summery words And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden" In the Garden, song by by Van Morrison <> ***This touches me deep in the chest cavity, the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations, a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and accrue, the mood, for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me for I am but steps away from the garden, and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes, with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses, touches, caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying, overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets, for find myself at the intersection, interlocking crossroads where perfect perfection begins and must meet its natural endings thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations, all impossibilities, challenges, see me, begging itinerant muses in the neighborhood to guide my hand, teach me newsome words, mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment, hearing me solicit their Treasure of Summery Words but they won't, excusing themselves, that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised, all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity, time insufficient to learn a new calculus of addition and bid me calm my heaving chest, seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps awaiting away live in this moment live within this poem, revisit it frequent, weep no more, your stilling heart weakened, take fast what is given now, and be contented, your treasury chest is full, overflowing with this summary of summery*** but I am not, cannot… 7:48:am jul 22

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I don't know where lavender grows, I know only where it dies. Where dusk holds on 'til it reaches dawn & swallows up her light. I don't know where lavender grows, I know only its demise. When sunrise brings forth the colour in the rings of my violet, violent eyes. ▪︎ • mica light • ▪︎

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Feb 15, 2025

Feb 15, 2025 at 3:11 AM UTC

I don't know where lavender grows, I know only where it dies. Where dusk holds on 'til it reaches dawn & swallows up her light. I don't know where lavender grows, I know only its demise. When sunrise brings forth the colour in the rings of my violet, violent eyes. ▪︎ • mica light • ▪︎

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Violet rose ... And darkness fell ... My imagination wandered ... Through the window of my madness ... To a woman ... Her beauty ... And her tenderness ... Like the violet rose ... Which it only ... And no other ... Refreshes my breath ... Like the most delicate breeze ... Takes me now to you ... My eyes got lost ... And traveled with wings Madness... With the magnificence of your body... That resident of my memory... To feel the warmth... In whole my body... From the fragrant scents... you are the rose in it... Alone... and the unique one... For the gardens of my imagination... Yes, my love... Alone only... Rose... With me... Now... In the bed of my imagination... Hazem...

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Jan 3, 2025

Jan 3, 2025 at 12:25 PM UTC

Violet rose ...

Violet rose ... And darkness fell ... My imagination wandered ... Through the window of my madness ... To a woman ... Her beauty ... And her tenderness ... Like the violet rose ... Which it only ... And no other ... Refreshes my breath ... Like the most delicate breeze ... Takes me now to you ... My eyes got lost ... And traveled with wings Madness... With the magnificence of your body... That resident of my memory... To feel the warmth... In whole my body... From the fragrant scents... you are the rose in it... Alone... and the unique one... For the gardens of my imagination... Yes, my love... Alone only... Rose... With me... Now... In the bed of my imagination... Hazem...

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The peace inside me is cracking blue the hatred of men and the loathing of women ***** lonely tombstones from coast to coast and I can't help but think our violets are rotting at the root

0

Oct 20, 2023

Oct 20, 2023 at 4:23 PM UTC

The peace inside me is cracking blue the hatred of men and the loathing of women ***** lonely tombstones from coast to coast and I can't help but think our violets are rotting at the root

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Roses are red Violet are blue The more you think of it The more it haunts you

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Dec 20, 2022

Dec 20, 2022 at 5:57 PM UTC

Roses are red Violet are blue The more you think of it The more it haunts you

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Black and blue, I've been painted by you. How have I been such a fool?

0

Sep 3, 2023

Sep 3, 2023 at 3:26 AM UTC

Black and blue, I've been painted by you. How have I been such a fool?

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When I breathe my body is relieved. Where once timber, now limber. My posture is vibrant and silent. I'm cleansing my Violet. Violet where once crown, no longer a frown because I'm grounding, I'm grounding until my soul is unbound. I'm breathing, and when I'm breathing laughter reveals me but I focus, I focus and I don't let it seal me. I'm cooling, I'm cooling, and soothing my soul, so that it may stay open for one and for all. I meditate I abbreviate, small glimpses of light. So that the sugar of my solar may fall out - from my sight. I am serious, and my breath is sinuous. It awakens my mind, But these competitive thoughts: they do not oblige. So I keep breathing and breathing for full conscious feeling and through this procession my spirit is right. Spirit pouring out of my pores. I am rich with inner vision. What sun shall I bring up to clear division. What light shall I pour out tonight, Oh Sun I am ready to stand up for what's right.

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Jul 25, 2021

Jul 25, 2021 at 12:10 PM UTC

When I breathe my body is relieved. Where once timber, now limber. My posture is vibrant and silent. I'm cleansing my Violet. Violet where once crown, no longer a frown because I'm grounding, I'm grounding until my soul is unbound. I'm breathing, and when I'm breathing laughter reveals me but I focus, I focus and I don't let it seal me. I'm cooling, I'm cooling, and soothing my soul, so that it may stay open for one and for all. I meditate I abbreviate, small glimpses of light. So that the sugar of my solar may fall out - from my sight. I am serious, and my breath is sinuous. It awakens my mind, But these competitive thoughts: they do not oblige. So I keep breathing and breathing for full conscious feeling and through this procession my spirit is right. Spirit pouring out of my pores. I am rich with inner vision. What sun shall I bring up to clear division. What light shall I pour out tonight, Oh Sun I am ready to stand up for what's right.

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DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the world turning inside out---no such thing as salted mint:) like a wild hint taste a glimpse of salted mint tackle the caramel passions cinnamon enchantment of imagines no bit of lost roses happiness in measured red doses remain in the lavender's fair violet to hesitate the sour act of deficit to refuse the golden boil of the sun bring a stop to the good from miscalculating the sum -----ravenfeels

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Jul 10, 2021

Jul 10, 2021 at 12:06 PM UTC

**** The Killer

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the world turning inside out---no such thing as salted mint:) like a wild hint taste a glimpse of salted mint tackle the caramel passions cinnamon enchantment of imagines no bit of lost roses happiness in measured red doses remain in the lavender's fair violet to hesitate the sour act of deficit to refuse the golden boil of the sun bring a stop to the good from miscalculating the sum -----ravenfeels

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DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, never been more frustrated for not remembering a dream:_( deja vu brought to view even better this time that was like the twisted flu an erase my system moonlighted on me frustrate to repeat sunset a truck corner an autumn lasting in the backseat forget that the ocean sailed and orange witches golden a town of ancient camps imagined clean desires and broken any subconscious stubborn to hold on inner fantasy? cause me can't reach a fulfill a journey come to and ending duality violet unaware a desire everlasting bel air do dreams come true flasher in sharp not matter mere??? bare me the renaissance a century in ancestry fading memory far pieced in my head puzzled mad realization aiming stars magnetism the hell it means dungeon and dilemma bolds sharp steeps deepen the voices running struggles put to the sold -----ravenfeels

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Jun 13, 2021

Jun 13, 2021 at 5:51 PM UTC

Impossible Been Seen For Me Not You

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, never been more frustrated for not remembering a dream:_( deja vu brought to view even better this time that was like the twisted flu an erase my system moonlighted on me frustrate to repeat sunset a truck corner an autumn lasting in the backseat forget that the ocean sailed and orange witches golden a town of ancient camps imagined clean desires and broken any subconscious stubborn to hold on inner fantasy? cause me can't reach a fulfill a journey come to and ending duality violet unaware a desire everlasting bel air do dreams come true flasher in sharp not matter mere??? bare me the renaissance a century in ancestry fading memory far pieced in my head puzzled mad realization aiming stars magnetism the hell it means dungeon and dilemma bolds sharp steeps deepen the voices running struggles put to the sold -----ravenfeels

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To the once blooming violet, is it true? Will she succumb her petals to the burden of time? Will I be witness to the ripples of this crime? Is the storm to drown her in skies darkened blue? Why is the savior the one to endanger? Why is the heartsease the one heartbreaker? Why is the kind spirit the true soul shaker? Why is my best friend to become a stranger? How can she lose against the clutches of temptation? When was the divine cursed with humanity? How could the listener speak with inanity? When was our friendship twisted into damnation? Will an invasive **** be victorious in his heist? Is the **** to convince her of his illusive might? Is he ******* her salve, to my abysmal fright? Will I rot of envy from the disgraceful tryst? Why is life’s story a destiny written in stone? Why can’t I change the demise plagued within? Why should her scent become my eternal toxin? Why shall it degrade me from my flesh ‘til my bone? How was I yearning for the bliss of her design? When was I seeded with this addiction? How was it dreamt into endless affliction? When did Violet and Lost Girl begin to intertwine? Epilogue: And did the lost girl tiptoed through the darkened fields? Was her in search of the warmth of the sun’s yield? Did she reach the water? Was it her escape? Was a giant lily in the wait? Was it a doomed attempt? No heat, no win? Were her burdens too heavy? Did she sink in? And forever bound, was this betrayal to restrain her way? Or was it a promise of the past to save her day?

0

Jan 14, 2021

Jan 14, 2021 at 8:46 AM UTC

henriqueacaldas

To the once blooming violet, is it true? Will she succumb her petals to the burden of time? Will I be witness to the ripples of this crime? Is the storm to drown her in skies darkened blue? Why is the savior the one to endanger? Why is the heartsease the one heartbreaker? Why is the kind spirit the true soul shaker? Why is my best friend to become a stranger? How can she lose against the clutches of temptation? When was the divine cursed with humanity? How could the listener speak with inanity? When was our friendship twisted into damnation? Will an invasive **** be victorious in his heist? Is the **** to convince her of his illusive might? Is he ******* her salve, to my abysmal fright? Will I rot of envy from the disgraceful tryst? Why is life’s story a destiny written in stone? Why can’t I change the demise plagued within? Why should her scent become my eternal toxin? Why shall it degrade me from my flesh ‘til my bone? How was I yearning for the bliss of her design? When was I seeded with this addiction? How was it dreamt into endless affliction? When did Violet and Lost Girl begin to intertwine? Epilogue: And did the lost girl tiptoed through the darkened fields? Was her in search of the warmth of the sun’s yield? Did she reach the water? Was it her escape? Was a giant lily in the wait? Was it a doomed attempt? No heat, no win? Were her burdens too heavy? Did she sink in? And forever bound, was this betrayal to restrain her way? Or was it a promise of the past to save her day?

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“Why did you do this for me?” He asked. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.” “You have been my friend,” replied Charlotte. “That in itself is a tremendous thing.” - E.B. White Charlotte's Web Blooming violet, ghost Of the blonde sun. Beauty of contrast. The sun shines brighter But not perceived by many, The violet no longer hides And eclipses the star with Its heart shaped petals Mythic essence, desired By queens... emperors. Her hidden power. The might of Greece Kneels down to her grace. The flower of spring Persephone Has chosen. Athens symbol. Flower to fool Apollo Withheld greatness, how modest she is to all. The gift of Humility. The faithful flower painted Timidly by the Bible’s artists, Is occasionally too reticent To glance at her kind spirit And behold my rescue Healing Heartsease, blossoming Even before melting snow. The soul savior. Violet’s tender touch of protection Softly soothing my skin. The salve of my machine. Her words, the river dam. But ephemeral is the scent. Friendship essence, sweet Magic wholly consuming me. Tolkien of love. How elegantly and delicately her Colors dance and sing with the wind, To engender the Victorian praxis Binding us both with thoughts Occupied by timeless bliss. Elegant royal, spiritual Guide of my fortune and good judgment. Muse of twilight. For she finds me in cold calamity And warms my hand through the abyss. Stargazing, I dream of hope, clarity and To be born anew. She left her nectar. Early morning emerges in delight.

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Jan 14, 2021

Jan 14, 2021 at 8:28 AM UTC

henriqueacaldas

Blooming Violet, Early Morning Delight

“Why did you do this for me?” He asked. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.” “You have been my friend,” replied Charlotte. “That in itself is a tremendous thing.” - E.B. White Charlotte's Web Blooming violet, ghost Of the blonde sun. Beauty of contrast. The sun shines brighter But not perceived by many, The violet no longer hides And eclipses the star with Its heart shaped petals Mythic essence, desired By queens... emperors. Her hidden power. The might of Greece Kneels down to her grace. The flower of spring Persephone Has chosen. Athens symbol. Flower to fool Apollo Withheld greatness, how modest she is to all. The gift of Humility. The faithful flower painted Timidly by the Bible’s artists, Is occasionally too reticent To glance at her kind spirit And behold my rescue Healing Heartsease, blossoming Even before melting snow. The soul savior. Violet’s tender touch of protection Softly soothing my skin. The salve of my machine. Her words, the river dam. But ephemeral is the scent. Friendship essence, sweet Magic wholly consuming me. Tolkien of love. How elegantly and delicately her Colors dance and sing with the wind, To engender the Victorian praxis Binding us both with thoughts Occupied by timeless bliss. Elegant royal, spiritual Guide of my fortune and good judgment. Muse of twilight. For she finds me in cold calamity And warms my hand through the abyss. Stargazing, I dream of hope, clarity and To be born anew. She left her nectar. Early morning emerges in delight.

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I was found A flower of purple bloom Alone, in a gloom Until petals of yellow Scent soothing Took root not far away After time And months of rhyme She whispered To the yellow bloom Said that there was no room For the two of us "Wild violet" I was branded Called a **** Said to be slowly Choking out the yellow bloom That in that garden There was no room For a vile **** Alas, a **** I was not Am not For I am a flower Nothing more But Call me what you want Drop venom where you please My voice perhaps stolen My leaves torn by your Shaking hands Fists in the air But I hold in A thousand words To battle your chaos Cast away With every attack Like leaves to a blower I won't lie That's your job Cruel gardener Pick all of my petals Shred my leaves Pull me by the roots Still I shall stand No matter the swinging Of your crazed trimmers Snipping away Though far away I shall stay Just a memory Fueling your chaos Growing a wall of thorns Dripping with blood Around your proud bloom Of yellow light. - Jay M September 18th, 2020

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Sep 18, 2020

Sep 18, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC

Wandering_Spirit

The Violet & Gardener's Chaos

I was found A flower of purple bloom Alone, in a gloom Until petals of yellow Scent soothing Took root not far away After time And months of rhyme She whispered To the yellow bloom Said that there was no room For the two of us "Wild violet" I was branded Called a **** Said to be slowly Choking out the yellow bloom That in that garden There was no room For a vile **** Alas, a **** I was not Am not For I am a flower Nothing more But Call me what you want Drop venom where you please My voice perhaps stolen My leaves torn by your Shaking hands Fists in the air But I hold in A thousand words To battle your chaos Cast away With every attack Like leaves to a blower I won't lie That's your job Cruel gardener Pick all of my petals Shred my leaves Pull me by the roots Still I shall stand No matter the swinging Of your crazed trimmers Snipping away Though far away I shall stay Just a memory Fueling your chaos Growing a wall of thorns Dripping with blood Around your proud bloom Of yellow light. - Jay M September 18th, 2020

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every colour of the rainbow reminds me of you my love I cant get you out of my head violet oh violet that dark night sky the stars you made me see the love you made me feel blue as I am when all hope was lost the misery and helplessness that great anguish red why red rage, eruptions fury as such like we never knew we could possess white pure white how heavens seem angels and God gave me what I needed my peace at last I can't get you out of my head and you tell me how much you love it

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Sep 13, 2020

Sep 13, 2020 at 11:35 AM UTC

every colour of the rainbow reminds me of you my love I cant get you out of my head violet oh violet that dark night sky the stars you made me see the love you made me feel blue as I am when all hope was lost the misery and helplessness that great anguish red why red rage, eruptions fury as such like we never knew we could possess white pure white how heavens seem angels and God gave me what I needed my peace at last I can't get you out of my head and you tell me how much you love it

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A lavender sprig A violet growing in the wild This colour purple is all around It makes you calm It makes you sincere It makes the world complete We see these colours every day But think, what if they didn't stay?

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Aug 18, 2020

Aug 18, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC

A lavender sprig A violet growing in the wild This colour purple is all around It makes you calm It makes you sincere It makes the world complete We see these colours every day But think, what if they didn't stay?

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Hushed apology silent tongues cry loudly lies are painful sounds

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Jul 22, 2020

Jul 22, 2020 at 3:44 AM UTC

brinemcallister

Hushed apology silent tongues cry loudly lies are painful sounds

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My hair is longer than before But lately I want a little more so bring the dye and bring the paste I'm feeling purple so hurry before it's too late 'that looks kinda red, Ash'

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Jun 6, 2020

Jun 6, 2020 at 11:15 AM UTC

My hair is longer than before But lately I want a little more so bring the dye and bring the paste I'm feeling purple so hurry before it's too late 'that looks kinda red, Ash'

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her eyes shielded the pain under ocean waves setting dusk of sunset haze she saw the world at a different side of things

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May 19, 2020

May 19, 2020 at 8:34 PM UTC

her eyes shielded the pain under ocean waves setting dusk of sunset haze she saw the world at a different side of things

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Give me your hand love, I have been noticing, the way you have been fading into the darkness. Cry your poison away, I will lift up your scars to the heavens, I will turn your blood to gold, I will love you relentlessly, For I am your ultimate friend. -storm-

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May 13, 2020

May 13, 2020 at 2:07 PM UTC

Give me your hand love, I have been noticing, the way you have been fading into the darkness. Cry your poison away, I will lift up your scars to the heavens, I will turn your blood to gold, I will love you relentlessly, For I am your ultimate friend. -storm-

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it came in a flurry of pink and blue my cotton candy days of swirling colours down the length of my spine down the length of my throat pooling at the base of my feet lilac tears and a blurry violet haze puffing like smoke before my stinging eyes and disappearing without a trace.

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Apr 15, 2020

Apr 15, 2020 at 4:46 AM UTC

it came in a flurry of pink and blue my cotton candy days of swirling colours down the length of my spine down the length of my throat pooling at the base of my feet lilac tears and a blurry violet haze puffing like smoke before my stinging eyes and disappearing without a trace.

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