"overgrows" poems
Lithuania! My homeland! You are like vigour.
How invaluable you are, only he can figure,
Who has lost you. Today your beauty wholly I view
And seeing, describe it, because I long after you.
Holy ****** who guards Luminous Czestochowa
And shines in the Gate of Dawn! You, who watches over
Strongheld Novogrudok and its faithful populace!
As once you healed me, a child, so miraculous
(When into your care from my despondent mother bid
I lifted my already departed eyelid,
And soon could make my way on foot to your temple's door,
Having gone to offer thanks to God for a life restored),
So too you shall restore us to our homeland's womb.
Meanwhile, may you convey my soul from its longing's gloom
To those aforrested hills, those evergreen meadows,
Stretched wide across the space where the azure Neman flows;
To those vast fields, painted in varicoloured grain-dye,
A landscape gilded with wheat, silver-plated with rye,
Where the runch is amber, and the buckwheat white as snow,
Where like a maiden's blush the red clover overgrows,
And all's interwoven, as if by a ribbon, green
balk, within which a wild pear tree can sometimes be seen.
Aug 11, 2021
Aug 11, 2021 at 4:06 PM UTC
I hope I’ll think back to those days unchecked:
When we didn’t stray too far from our den
In the Latin Eden, we were ship-wrecked,
In love, or in something unnamed, unpenned
When the cold winds were the perfect excuse
To touch each other, besotted, bemused -
As if we were the first. Lost in your blues
Or grey stares, one with the red duvet, fused.
I hope when spring comes we’ll still be frozen,
Together, despite the thaw. The garden
Overgrows with weed-like worries, swollen
And over-ripe. But I am stranded in
Too deep to feel the pull of dreams of spring.
I would melt for one more chance to be with him.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 8:13 AM UTC
You're my addiction
my guilty pleasure
everything you are
is a treasure
I tell myself
to let you go
but the urge
to see you
overgrows
You're the only one
who makes my heart pump
And you're the only one
who can make it stop
All I see
is risk after risk
but what is life
without a little
danger?
After all,
you're no stranger
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
How should I begin this, declaring my regret?
Cursing all the times that I had wished we never met?
Or maybe I should just proclaim my anguish and my sorrow
That I had not forseen, that we would not quite make tomorrow
And I'm sorry for the fact that I decided I could show
The parts of me I stowed away, the seeds I've allowed to grow
The parts of me unknown to most because it claims to hold
The part of my subconscious which would like to be known
I hate it how I used you, when I didn't ******* mean to
And I hate the way I got excited to even slightly sense you
I hate the path we walk, and I hate the way we talk,
And most of all I hate myself for letting that go
I loathe the way I claim to be so happily open minded
But can't accept when I've truly ****** it
Can't accept when I've finally lost it
Hate the memories that you conjure over my face
Like the way that I act, is the bitterness that you taste
And the part that gets me most, is how I thought you could trust
But how can one bestow a faith to a monster, so ******
Im divided by the sight of my own face in the ******* mirror
I open my mouth and silently scream like I'm scared to ******* hear it
Scared of myself, so why the **** do I care?
That when I say I'm demonic, that you'd be ******* scared?
One plus one is two for you and two for me as well
So I guess I'm asking for a second chance, to be the better Hell
Everybody has potential, so don't connect the dots
I am not the one you knew before in all his tempest, lost
I am not someone you know, despite the weight I tow
The recognition of my pain, and I know you think you know
But you don't, because here I am not so long after
Proclaiming all was over like a town shred by disaster
Destruction may be caused, and distrust where I never was,
But even nature overgrows the bombs we throw, we fly, we let go
Even friendship overthrows the venom I caused...
I'm sorry... just let me try my hand
You don't need to trust me, coz I already understand
You got skeletons in a closet, and I'm a high pressure faucet,
And I'll be waiting right here because I know I can't force it...
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
You make me smile at the pale light
that creeps under my eyelids
and whose fingers pry them open
pestering me until I wake
You secret behind my ribcage
that pulses straight through my skin
and climbs like a vine to my lips
and overgrows in my head
‘til all I can see is flowers
and still, still, it remains you
that lodges inside of me so
but leaves me no words at all
to tell anyone how I feel,
so I will remain silent
or I will just shrug as I say,
“he’s alright most of the time,”
and no one will know I’m blooming.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 10:20 AM UTC
I have an interesting flower in my garden,
One that is the embodiment of beauty, but refuses, strangely,
To accept its wondrous colours.
I have an interesting flower in my garden,
That sprouts some throrns sometimes.
They ***** me, and I bleed,
But my constantly beaming flower,
Always has a comeback.
Some days my little flower wilts,
With guilt and the feeling,
That many have come and stomped on her.
But still my evergreen flower,
Overgrows and blooms beyond.
I have an interesting flower in my garden,
Whose scent gives me air.
A sweet wallowing nectar,
Flows past her ocean of petals...
And to my little flower,
I appear a loving bee.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
Never was I destined to reside in this skin suit
My mind birthed from a distance dwelling
And my heart overgrows it's case
I only wear eyes and ears
But no tongue
My nature is to observe and comfort
For I cannot speak or be seen
What am I, but a tortured being
Far past death
But never past pain
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
There is this plant on the patio that overgrows itself every once in awhile and dies.
Beautiful flowers, but far too many.
Over-growing without thinking about the consequences.
Four million or so flowers blooming all at once and one little porcelain *** to hold them all.
It came naturally.
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 2:13 AM UTC
There are no limits
to culture, kitsch flourishes --
and it overgrows.
Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 3:49 AM UTC