Streams of colour
In constant motion
showing shades of beauty hidden
Powered by the wind
As it caresses the river of scent
Gently, softly, lovingly
And moves through the rows
Never stopping, always moving
Following the wind
Lavender tributaries
in a Sensual  scented sea of colour
Never ending.

Inspired by a photo by William Carr....photo artist friend and talent extraordinairre
Mygreatestescape Nov 2015

Lavender is pink

Lavender is blue

Lavender is all the shades

that remind me of you

When I am queen

You'll be my king

And our palace of lavender

beneath these shades

of blue.

shåi Jul 2014

you took me
to a lovely garden
long ago,
and told me i was beautiful

you kissed my hair
just as the sun rose
illuminating
the intensity of our lost love

every inch
every crevice of me
loved you
missed you.

you were my infinite stars
cast on the midnight terrain
you lit up the world
just for me

a sweet scent of lavender
permeated through the garden
you said
it was the thousands of lilacs
blooming for me

you kissed my hair
leaving behind
a sweet scent
to caress me

(b.d.s.)

thanks for 1k views on reflection! i love you all and i love suggestions! :)
Тадеус Aug 2014

Lavender sunset fills western sky
Crickets starts to sing their song.
As twilight fades into night shades,
I am utterly surrounded by God's love.
In darkest colours I see distant lightning,
And His love is all around me...
I am reminded of that from another,
A bloom of encouragement.
Even in the darkness now,
I remember by yon rose.
Lavender sunset and
Lavender rose.


Тадеус

© Тадеус 8-20-2014 9:20 pm
Все права защищены.
Elite Lee Oct 2013

Light in color,
Mild in scent.
A fragile flower
is what he sent.
A shade of purple
that I've always liked.
His heart so humble
makes mine smile wide.
A sign wished for
and granted now
by this unknown author
and a lad's avow
This flower of faithfulness
will never wither,
and affection changeless
will last forever.

Wishing...
October Oct 2013

words so clever could not hide this blundered heart
two halves in being when we are apart
these words so carefully crafted [turn and spill] become my art

they help me mend my
broken
broken
heart

this canvas: dirty, tattered

just paint me lavender
and find me there after

Nairi Kalpakian Aug 2015

i can make one bottle of beer last hours
From cold to lukewarm
My ass settling into a state of what I call
Perma buzzed
Wussy sip after wussy sip
Perplexed looks and slights from friends
It serves me right to drink so slow,
Evading the glass bottle bottom but
I guess I want to be able to hold onto something so much,
It warms up to me and serves me well.

~

Right now, I want to be buried in a house of lavenders.

Brianna Sep 2014

Tell me about your lavender eyes and your vanilla hair.
Tell me about you sandalwood smile and coal black stare.
How does the rain wash away your hatred for other so easily?
But the soft breeze in the summer fuels your fire?

Tell me about your wandering mind and your benevolent heart.
Tell me about your gypsy spirit and harnessed passion.
How does the ocean calm sadness so easily?
But the autumn smell makes you cry in the night?

Can you tell me why it's so easy to fall for you but so hard to make you stay?

Roberta Day Feb 2015

Warm laundry gives me the
fuzzies, makes my hands grasp
   majestic purple soaps
to cleanse away the dirty wails
compacted under fingernails
A selection of smell good things
lotions accompanied by fuzzy things
to rub away and radiate the aura
of calm, balance, and tranquility
Lavender is condusive to many
different uses, inhaling the graces
of herbal essence, soothing said coolings
inducing mood peelings of layers of grime
a skin liberative—figuratively speaking
Flowers of passion brew thoughts into actions
silent buds permeating scents
   so invigoratingly innocent

Satan Apr 2011

Of all the souls wandering around.
Hers was the only one.
Taken away out of sight.
Dim, mine was slight.

Come sing me a song.
As every soul runs long.
Your story is yet to tell.
When you are in hell.

I see souls wandering around.
Distinct stories of life that surround.
Their feet hardly touch the ground.
I heard hardly any sound.

I need to recite the perfect spell.
I seek for a convincing story to tell.
But everything will come to an end.
Like the happy feeling of finishing a good book.
It is unexpected and true.

Javaria Waseem Oct 2014

They found her dead body in the backyard
She had a lavender in her hand.
Time of death: 2.12 A.M.
Cause of death: No one will ever guess.

Sarah Richards Aug 2013

There's singing
out my window
on
rue molière
and I swear it
is a bird
(perhaps)
the sound
of dripping
honey

or the agony
I feel when
I feel your
eyes on mine and
I can only look
away

And air through a pipe is
a bird is
a flower is
(you are)
lavender honey,
and a songbird, all the same.

WS Warner Mar 2012

Secretly bending glimpses,  
When pine and survey align
In tortuous accord –
Reflections of you,
Are not enough
Drew Barrie;
To insulate my heart
From the cleft between us.
Perennials, the color of
Periwinkle,
The smell of rain
And crayons
Return you to me,
Lend presence, vestiges,
Invoke
The gift of you,
Fortify my resolve
To one day reunite.

Numbness and ache,
Lavish tears set
Against the
Unimpeachable light,
Held in the glint in your eyes
Unequivocally green,
Each blink evokes allure,
Found in
A blushing smile -
Little one,
I observe in quiet
Adoration, amid
Our segregation,
Ardor undiminished,
Prayers give permanence
Uttered in a pause
Each
Breath drawn;
Ephemeral visions, alive,
Ballads and rhyme
Memories aflame, occupy
A sacred canopy,
Internal; profoundly
Savored
Never to erase.

Searching for treasure,
Collecting prized sand
And stone,
Your pockets, heavy
With plunder.

Somber tones fill
Gaps in our history,
Find new contrast,
Certain hues
Oscillating shades of gray
Stirring cues
Dearth of winter blue.
Trees bare, secluded,
Known in the bones,
This crisp boreal air —
February.
Moisture absent,
Like a father's words
Laconic;
Your irreducible gaze,
In the
Opaque imagination.

Oddly arid season,
Aloof precipitation,
The will of the wind
Indefatigable,
Sonnets of euphony, leave me
Undone,
Permit me to grieve,
Another year - gone.
Nervous Squirrels, sedentary
And quiet,
As if to mourn with me,
I miss my daughter.

The spring equinox,
Poised pavilion blended
Unfolds in bloom,
Elucidating
The approaching day
Of your birth.

Stunning you were,
Your prominent
Entry into creation,
Tiny noises,
Nestled and snug.
Reach
My effusive heart.
You are here,
Equipped with an
Absorbing mind
Wrapped,  
Perfectly  
Designed, in a petite
Fashioned frame.

Emotions, elastic -
Diffuse and Compress,
In distance friction
Attenuates,
Time and eternity
Extend to the periphery,
Agony
Absorbed into Zoe.
Grace and peace wash
Ashore, rinsing
Poetry pure;
Cleansing, with surprise
And vigor
Recall the loftiest
Of tokens.

I too
Encountered
An esteemed rock,
Smooth and orbed,
Summoning  
Long thoughts,
My citadel made
Of three,
Uniquely ensconced
Inside -
Priceless gems,  
Sustain me.

Enclaves of privilege
Gratified each vacant
Mirror,
Until notes and
Words gather to form
Your story,
Emergent,
The world shifts,
Altered anew.
Resurrection,
Simile to
Our reconciliation
Visceral and singular,
Exuberant teardrops
Flood, fall deeply
Approximating mercy,
Severe, sudden as
The April freshet.

In the lavender garden.

©2012 & 2016 W.S. Warner

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