"daisys" poems
Rose petals daisys, are the things that make me happy. Blue sky's sunrise Im just glad to be alive.puppys and ice cream and everything in between.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
If you ask me what my favorite flower is,
I will answer daisys.
You will say that they are simple and boring,
and i will say that i love them because of that.
Because nothing in this world is simple anymore.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Sun and daisys
summers hot
dont be lazy
Smile wide
Not too crazy
times are tough
and money's tight
the car is broken
the bike is to
walking's always good for you
as is running, swimming, true
exercise and pay your due
don't complain just get it done
cause times are tough and money's tight
as it may don't take all day
learning how to cope,
Your job you hate
i understand
you must make it
meet demand
time's are tough and money's tight
these are things we cannot fight
your girl don't love you
that's ok
most love ends anyways
but smile wide
a little crazy
laugh a lot for
Sun and Daisys
life is not
find your strength,
and find your joy
in little places,
shy and coy,
against the dark
against the violence
against the stark cold endless silence
against the howling careless drone
that is your burden not alone
smile wide and don't be lazy
to live this life
one must be crazy
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
When I was younger,
I wanted to be an artist.
I aspired to be someone
who made a difference,
like
Picaso or Vincent Van Gogh.
Someone who was remembered.
So like every little kid who has a dream,
I pursued it.
Saving up all the allowence I earned
In just 3 weeks
I had a total of $12.80.
Enough to fund the dream of a child.
I realized,
I loved drawing.
From the minute I picked up my
$2.50 pencil,
I knew my dream was going to come true;
Even if it started with doodles...
of flowers and stick people.
So eventually I grew up and I gave up that dream
of being an artist that makes a difference.
I gave up,
because I couldn't master drawing the perfect person.
I couldn't draw
how the persons eyes shinned when they saw the love of their life,
I couldn't capture
the beauty in the young girls smile
as she ran through the field of daisys towards her father,
who was coming home from war.
I realized that you can't capture the beauty and the memories
that someone holds
with a dream and a $2.50 pencil.
drawing // a.s.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Dear Daisy,, age 8, family fruitcake:
Keep at it, but don't feel proud about it.
Just keep going, because it's working.
Dear Daisy, age 11, addressed to boarding school:
You will learn something from this torture.
You will learn about forgiveness.
Dear Daisy, age 13, subject- your disappearing acts:
You are not ugly or undeserving or fat
or anything that she told you. I know you feel alone
but you could tell someone what's going and speak out
because you're not stupid if you open your mouth
and you ought to be more like what you want, not a clones.
Dear Daisy, age 15, congrats on the weight lost and gained!
You went through hell, and yes, you proved it
you can starve yourself, harm yourself, and tell lies very well
but you put the ones who love you through hell too
and you're lucky they love you anyways and for any whys
so just don't do it again.
Dear Daisy, age 17, subject: stop:
It is not your body that did this and you did say no.
Dear Daisy, age 19, to UCL halls:
He deserves better and he's not right for you
and you're not the girl for him, you're pretending to be her
and you know it too-
You love him so much, so let him go.
That would be the kindest thing to do.
Dear Daisy, age 21, to Amber Ward, High Mental Health Institution:
You've been losing your mind for more than a year now
but you have looked and seen it's actually been far longer.
This is real now, and you haven't a clue who you really are.
With these new eyes, you can see you've made yourself up
since you were younger,
and you believed your act until it became true.
Don't look back and don't pretend you have't realised
what you can't un-see now, even though it was easier
back then when you didn't have to care.
And who knows? Maybe you will always feel this-
anxious and confused and scared,
but at least you're not fictional. You can become fact
so don't look back. That's the cowardly thing to do.
Just keep at it, like you did when you were 8
because it will work, and it will this time too
but then you were doing it for everybody else
and now, who the hell are you?
Dear Daisy, received yesterday:
don't stress and lose sleep for worrying
because you've got a Masters waiting and you don't want to get ill
and don't worry because tomorrow may be unthinkable
but it's coming. It always does,
so calm down and sit still.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
of all the blues and reds and yellows, your hue is my favorite
the tie dye of your soul reflects a rainbow kite
flying so high, sailing the shore of good vibes
down below, the sea otters gaze
at your marvelous beauty
and hair, that matches the sandy shores
that flowers wish to be upon
like a halo of daisys and roses
angelically arrayed, happily.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
Teardrops.
Many doleful,
fluttering, sips; *Living.
Combined* together in moonbeams.
Dewdrops
~Moth~
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
Crumpled agaisnt the white wall
Burning tears streaming
From my hollow exhausted eyes
Down my pale cheeks they fall
Along my raspberry lips they gather
Oceanic water
One by one
The last few daisys that lined my mind
Wilt
Their petals are dropping to the ground
Ever so slowly they turn to dust
My heart is charcoal black
My walls are breaking down
I look around me the glacial walls
Melting to the ground
They pool at my sides
I drag my frail finger through the warm water
snap
Someone grabs my hand
Shaking my clouded head
I look up with red swollen eyes
Mom?
Shes so far off her voice a silent as a winter breeze
I give up
Head falls back onto my chest
I grasp my head
A fist full of my long brown hair
Shuddering breaths threatening to shake me apart
"I am so ****** up"
I whisper soft as rose petals
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
Id spend my afternoons in the garden with the flowers
My only real friends.
We’d talk while I drank my milk tea and laughed for hours about absolute nonsense
The daisys would keep me updated on all the gossip going around the garden
And the chamomile’s would offer their advice on anything I needed.
The lavenders would make me laugh
And the roses would compliment my makeup
Since it was inspired by them
I’d bring my diary there and share with them all my stories and the crazy things that had happened to me that day, since they were the only ones that would listen.
They became my only source of joy
One day I walked to the garden, ready to tell them all my new adventures
But when I began to speak, I noticed something off.
They weren’t responding.
I nudged the orchids.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t any of you speaking?”
I sat there for hours.
No words.
I came back the next day, hoping they’d speak again.
But they never did.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
My Mistress' Eyes Are Everything Beneath The Moon;
The crimsom of her lip is as the shade of blood;
If coal is black, why then her thighs are cream;
If skin be burlap, white silk is her body.
You have never seen masked daisys, black and blue
But she creates blooming poppies on my cheeks,
And no perfume upon the earth compares to her scent
The exhalation of my mistress is as jasmine and honeysuckle.
I hate when she is silent, yet well she thinks,
All other sound is dissonant compared to her voice.
A godess I first saw, as she passed me;
My mistress levitates and glides across the air.
All the horrors of hell, are fine, if her memory remains in my mind.
Her magnificence is selfevident, with words beyond compare.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 9:26 AM UTC
A posing branch pointing sophistication
through a bark of whispered peace. A
pokcet of mute jingling daisys curling
melodicaly in the breth of gentle air.
And a shallow pool of clarity, shining like
broken crystal under the watchful glow of the sky.
This is where our loved ones go,
this is where they sleep.
Only to awaken as smiling robins on
lonely winter mornings to melt the
cover of cold
Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 5:21 PM UTC
oh forget me nots in my shaded woodland garden,
hibiscus of rememberance,
violet of the lavendars of my faithfullness,
iris of his wisdom and valour,
daisys of my white imagination,
heathers of my heart,
roses of his desire,
sweet pea of delicasies,
ivy of my eternal fidelity,
posies I desire,
he loves me, he loves me not.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
just when
i thought i burned that bridge
i realize
somehow in shock each time
that you cant burn
stone
you can see the shadow
of charcoal brushstrokes
outlined on the gray surface
it crawls up the sides
one day
ill take a sponge
and scrub away those ashes
it will be "like new"
see those weeds?
in the patch of green
before you walk over
the dying bridge
they are
criss crossed in daisy's
ill pick them all
until all that's left
is yellow for
miles and miles
isn't that nice?
i thought so too
so how bout
you find your knees
and settle down
so you too
can pull weeds from the ground
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 12:28 PM UTC
Lavander sweet, butterfly breezes
Love in the dusty yellow sunshine
Mason jars filled to the brim with liquid amber and honey
Fragrant daffodils, flourishing tall as trees
And
Darling panseys and daisys
Who dance like suthern bells
Bees take flight and the nights are filled with wonderlust
and longing
Starlight grazing the slightest lullaby
As is grows like thunder
And threatens to tear the unconciousness from your eyes
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
my fingers are spindles of thread, unwoven from blankets of strong women who fought harder fights than I could withstand.
my neck is a porcelain clock. engraved with wisps of words, it's cogs churning to keep my brain functioning.
my torso is an storm. lightning leaves scars acrioss the lining of my stomach, spreading out like spiderwebs, covered in dew. thunderheads boom when I walk, rattling my ribs and awakening this hummingbird heart.
my spine is a garden, blooming. daisys and forget-me-nots bloom from the soil tilled into my veterbrae.
My hamstrings are tightrope across the twin towers, quivering.
My knees are doorknobs left unturned, the room contents dusty and cobwebs string the corners.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
Roses are
red,
violets are blue.
Daisys are
white,
so grow them too.
I'll let you in
this garden of happiness
and together
we can
forget about our loneliness.
Together,
we'll grow old,
you,
me,
and the flowers.
And there will be no such thing as
time;
no seconds, minutes,
or hours.
But when the flowers do begin
to fade,
I turn my head
to find out
that all you did
was fake.
And we’ll go on living
like we are in love
but really there’s nothing left.
Nothing but dust.
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 2:39 PM UTC
~~~
I'll do this daisy chain...
"He loves me... he loves me not...
...HE LOVES ME!!!
And I'll do it till I'm
pushin' up daisys.
SoulSurvivor
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
Dandelions Daisys
and Daffodils
ultra twilight
Mourning Glorys
Beau coups of tragically
beautiful Buttercups
Scarlet Lillys
and Royal Violets
Violently pursued
by less than
gentle sunlight
Sharp piercing
cutting thorns
enticing with
yellow blush
and crimson Roses
Beauty for a time
a moment less
maybe moments longer
Then wilted away
Another then springing
from darkness unto light
and brilliant breath
...and another
Each purposed only to
the sustenance
of the thorns
and the beauty thereof.
-R.
(10)
-Hlywd
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
Your voice runs through my head
A tape recorder
crackly and old.
I remember every word that
you have ever said.
They string along
flowing out of my ears.
Everything is backwards.
You can't control your destiny
but you have tried nonetheless.
Backwards and forwards.
Your fate is relentless.
You can only have the best
You never stop to rest.
Where are you going with your life
I wonder.
And how did you manage
to avoid such a blunder
This blunder meaning me,
My life.
Your run your life like you run your car.
Spewing out harmful toxins.
riding by the small things.
constantly looking ahead
you never stop to smell
daisys, daffodils.
you keep running over cats
you tires tread over my head.
what you say is harsh
and has no meaning.
i watch you and start silently seething
everything from your dandruff
to your hairy toes.
makes me want to knock you out cold.
you cant seem to string along thoughts that make any sense.
but i seem to remember what you say
more than ever.
your so hypocritical to me
and you say you want to be free.
you
are
a
joke.
the words you said to me
that night are branded into my brain
how am i even sane?
"You only want what you can't have,
i loved you,
did you know that?
Your insane for not loving me back,
you have more hidden issues
than ive ever had.
i did everything i could for you,
Did you know that?
i love you,
you know that."
Jun 25, 2010
Jun 25, 2010 at 11:07 AM UTC
Daisy remind me of when i
sleep
A reminence of a more peaceful place
A world created from what we bury to deep
A good way to hide whats
truely on the face
But the problem with daisys is there the same as dreams
They die maybe in a few years or even a few days
Reviling the demons and what they mean
Poppies remind me of the war thats been
The hidding of a horrible tradgerdy and the millions it destroys
The mothers and fathers who will Miss there teens
Just to protect the rich's
choir boy
Popies remind me of a world of war
And the millions of people distraught
Roses remind me of
society
Beautiful on top with thorns underneath
Rips at your skin just to pull you down, with gravity
Picked from the crowed slowly destroyed to make someone else care free
Roses reminded me of society destroying you slowly till your unseen
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 7:46 AM UTC
but baby I can be something you need
I'm blind and the liquid fire that goes down my throat taste better than any kiss I've ever had
or maybe it just taste better than the bitterness
I want your lips
I crave you
I want see the Sun for the first time
I can feel you but I can't see you
but how is it that you make me feel
electric eccentric ecstatic
how do you light flames so bright I still can see them even when my eyes are closed
the ocean doesn't have a fighting chance against the wildfire you started within me
mend me into a cup so when you drink you think of me
you bring wildflowers into my dull forest green grass
I've never seen peonies and sunflowers
and daisys and hyrdrogenias
look so in peace
and you make my heart beat in time in what seems like forever
I could smell these flowers even after they died
and the Sun decided she was done with them
but I never cared much for flowers
when you leave idc what I'm remembered for I just want to be remembered
if you go like the moon says good bye to his morning star
then please remember the way it felt at 21 to still believe some things would come back
and the Sun would say hello to her moon
before he left
trace the feel of your lips the way they form into smile
and remember the pattern
we're not ever getting 18 back
and I'll write you sweet nothings
on napkins I'll leave in a diner
where we once got ice cream
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
Gifts of isle,
Odd rarities, a clasp of corners,
Frugity,
Trapezoid,
Fluidly,
Agrown,
As a teething,
Jewel or treasure,
Soulfully bound,
Chase lights like oceans,
Ever against
The fascinating cylinder
Ready or not,
Here it is again,
Pictures of families,
Roses and daisys
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
when she leaves
(and she will)
she will rip the daisys she planted
right from your very chest and leave
nothing but a few petals and a few more
broken promises.
when she leaves
(and she will)
she will take a part of you
with her for the drive home
and you will lay awake at night
wondering why you feel so ******* empty.
when she leaves
(and she will)
she will rip open your arms and
hide parts of herself inside of you
deep under your skin - inside of your veins
and she'll smile when you scrape at your flesh.
when she leaves
(she already has)
she will leave behind the things you will learn to hate
her nail polish, her earrings, her 'who's a foxy lady' coffee mug
her smile is still stained into the bathroom mirror and
your bedroom still smells like her.
when she leaves
(well, most of her)
she will take everything from you but
still leave enough behind to make you
want to scream and cry,
i'm sorry - i'm sorry.
(feeling awfully self destructive tonight)
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC