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Spring has come with lily’s bloom
the most pretty flower in any room
I’d like to cull her, receive a kiss
chance at bliss, lover’s hiss
the hummingbird came to hover
any dream that dares to flutter
He stole her scent, her soul, her color.
I am zealot for this elegant florent
her smile, a spark, the stars themselves lament
I thought she bloomed for me, hopeful vase
but I was petals lost, their trace
Her smile I chased through four seasons spin
yet found the dream was never mine to win
She sang me down with stem of deceive
then cut my hair, my soul couldn’t conceive
my floral love is so naive
a white flag heave, left to grieve.
A poem about someone who is in love with a girl named Lily, which is also the name of a flower, and who has to put up with her dating someone else. There are metaphors, images, and biblical allusions to Samson and Jacob.

I would be happy if you would leave a comment or like. I would love to hear your reviews and comments.
Shivpriya Oct 2023
Honesty and Poetry healed my broken and blue!

A college is a refreshing start for any individual, especially those who have always been raised very protectively and provided the support of walls and boundaries covering them and acting as their saviors!
A towering Six-Storey, Multi-Sectional Modular building had impacted me sentimentally, reminding me of the protectiveness of school days! The new cray red color of the college walls was acting clean but carried the vibe of significant responsibility for many lives!
I felt a heavy heart that was tired of facing its daily notes and was keen to know what was lying ahead in pursuit of the daily activities at the college!

As I entered the student auditorium, I noticed the colorful banners hanging and decorated on the side walls and railing. It displayed titles such as "Best New Fresher," "Best Fresher Artist," and "Best Model." etc.

"Will you be singing with our group?" she asked. I replied, "No, I don't know how to sing!" Fear flashed in my eyes as I tried to pull my shoulder away from her grip. The girls in our batch shined in Florent colors; they gathered together in the center like a family of a colorful flower bouquet!

The other groups of boys in our batch created a loud sense of showing fashion as they passed by us! One of the boys enjoyed chewing his lollipop - He made a growling sound, funny enough to make other people laugh! He exclaimed, " Watch out! We have to back the first position at any cost."
As he sprinted away in the opposite direction of the auditorium, his hurried movements caused another person's books to tumble out of his grasp, scattering across the ground helplessly like a jigsaw puzzle unnoticed by others as they all were eagerly preparing to begin the program!
I made my way towards the scattered books. My honesty implored me and compelled me to ask about their desolate state.
I lowered my head and tried to silence the inner monologues which continued to yearn! As I glanced at the person I had collected books for,
he appeared fully immersed in his world!
On the other side, My desire to participate in cultural events led me to the stage where my friends had gathered for a poetry recitation.
I suddenly realized I had mistakenly taken his diary as I could feel the weight of my college purse weighing up. Frustrated with the sweat of the competitive events, I helplessly wondered and looked here and there to return his diary.

When I opened his journal with irritation, I was surprised to find many soulful poems.
As I read the beautiful words, I decided to recite a few lines and thought we could all win today. Every poem in that diary seemed to be smiling at me, and I returned the smile while feeling the beginning of a friendship at this moment. Two of my friends geeked into what I was reading so attentively and asked me what I would recite.
Without hesitation, I told them I chose to recite the 5th poem that he wrote, titled "Silence." I greeted the public with the poem and its stanzas, feeling amazed with every line I repeated.
As I started the recitation, I entered a mysteriously beautiful world where the falls from the peak of the hardship mountain felt like the cold fall on the charcoal ground of my broken enthusiasm. I could see different versions of my outlook carrying the saddest ghosts of the past, and those inner eyes of my heart walls began to seep a kinder note beneath their efforts to move on.
I didn't take credit for his work as it wasn't mine, so I told the audience that the writer's name remains unknown!
And in that moment, I felt a wave of peace wash over me, ending the inner war raging in my heart from the beginning of the day! I was relieved!
Until today, I feel grateful for the opportunity to embrace hidden honesty and do the right thing. It gifted me with a grateful start when the owner of the book of poems approached me afterward; he thanked me for not taking credit for his soulful art.

It was a soulful poem written by an unknown writer that gave me a new light and hope. It inspired me to set my heart free from the turmoil that refused to cease initially.

To this day, I agree and acknowledge this newly found appreciation for the power of truth! It is impressive how honesty and Silence can affect and soothe someone so movingly and others who try to feel it.

This incident has always infused me with great zeal as it increases my inner creative activity.
It helps me yearn to explore the untold depths lying at the core corner of any subject and write many poems.

I'm grateful for this experience and the truth's immense significance. Even today, I feel drawn to the allure of that poem because its words have miraculously conveyed honesty.

I'll always be thankful, and that's for sure!
©shivpoetesspriya
I have Added to my collection of short stories a new piece named "Honesty and Poetry healed my broken and blue!"
Ryan O'Leary Apr 2023
Mountain.


   Why are you standing there like a

   big oaf doing absolutely nothing,

  all day, every day, year in, year out,

    since as long as anyone recalls?


   Do you think that Norman Foster

   would design such a monstrosity

without a door, a window, or stairs?

    Blocking our view is all you do.

You don’t even stop the rain clouds.


   Because of you we get premature

      sunsets and that dark, sombre

    shadow you cast over the valley.


      Even the moon has so much

     trouble rising over you, that at

   times it never manages to do so.


       Mountain, I think you are a  

   typical, chauvinistic, narcissist,

   expecting everyone to pay you

       homage and look up to you.


     Mountain, I have just climbed

       you, I am standing on your

  tallest peak which I think should

   be spelt peek. And guess what?


          I have just found the

         plaque you left for us.

    ---------------------------------
   |   It was not inquisitiveness   |
   | or respect brought you here |
   |          it was your EGO           |  
    ----------------------------------

                    <>


Photographed from window at

  7:40 Am April 3rd St. Florent

Corsica.

— The End —