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PoserPersona Jun 2018
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Pedals mirror la hue de Luna,
  but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
  is fragrance plus photo

Neither causing nightly failure,
  in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

The moon a long gone distant rock,
  yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
  and stings with countless licks  

Battered holy asteroid face,
 woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
  lunar eclipses fire

The cactus thrives in driest sands,
  and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
  promising mere water

The lucid beauty bewilders,
  as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

You, once my cereus and moon,
  were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
  though your hole I’d not delve

However, what was first velvet,
  morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
  now spring gifts hope and more

The icy grips of each winter,
  provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

Although we've gone on our own ways,
  I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
  to find true love at last

We were once greater together.

I’m now greater apart.
Anya May 14
A gift of violets for my hearth and home
Her love of gold as mine alone
Wherever she walks the sun is near
She speaks with voices few can hear
And it is her I wish to share my days
With silent merriment and arrogant ways
With gardens of youth and loving end
Depart with he of dark  descend
Magnolias bloom beneath his eyes
So happily this silent lover dies
Christian Ek Aug 2014
Tender touching on creamy silky skin.
Hearts pounding like jackhammers.
Sweat dripping, warm rain.
Sheets melting.
70,80,90,100 degrees celsius!!!
Pulses rising,voices rising, music rising.
White rose moving down your spine tingling your sensitive senses.
Oh how you sing my name, I hope this song never ends.
Loss of air, loss of sense of self, two bodies in one.
Rose pedals broken under two lovers forms.
Waking up in a rose garden to the sound of your voice.
Nicholas Mar 13
Scattered across my bedroom floor,
glimmers of light staccato on wilted rose pedals

Memories of us, 
the faintest slapback of the person I was with you,
flicker with lethargic buoyancy 

Fondness for fondness sake,
denial as a delicacy

Your face, obscured in these floral polaroids
Impressions of who you were;
what you meant to me,
a struggle to behold
but recognizable in ripples across the faces of others

Remains of an entanglement that seemed to answer
why the universe was even formed to begin with

This omnipresent truth laying abed the other
jagged reality of our affair;
it was never you,
it was my self-possessing pursuit of wholeness
Musings on the idea that love can be a very selfish act and that, in it's absence, we sometimes look back on a former relationship, not because we still love or miss that person, but because we love/miss the way that person made us feel about ourselves.
ryn Feb 2015
He motioned for her to take her place on the back.
He braced himself steady as she slid herself onto the rack.
Once she had settled, he handed her his gunny sack,
He told her keep it safe as he tackled the offbeaten track.

The night was quiet, save for the crickets chirping in unison
Hiding behind the clouds, the moon gave out a dim ominous glow.
The tapper finally felt a tiny sliver of trepidation
He wasn't sure of the outcome, that night would eventually show.

The whole time, he was thinking in his busy little head...
He tried to devise ways to thwart this playful, mischievous being.
But those thoughts of his were quickly derailed instead.
For her perfumed presence was very much intoxicating.

Soon they had arrived at the foot of the hill
He hastened his pedalling to meet the uphill *****.
He would have continued slamming on the pedals until...
He felt her hand on his shoulder clench into a tight *****.

He tilted his head back towards his beautiful passenger.
In a calm manner he mouthed the words asking, "What's the matter?"
Her voice came right after in a nervous stammer,
*"Would you mind slowing down because last night this was where I had fallen over..."
The end.
Carter Ginter Dec 2014
My heart clicks repeatedly
a bike chain stuck between gears
I push hard against the pedals
they resist, then release
jerking my body down onto the frame.

The purple spots sting as my
fingertips softly graze the surrounding
puffs of white
They look a lot like how I imagine
the bruises you left would, although
those don't sting
they burn into my soul,
branding your name across
every inch
of every part of me:
my ears yearn to hear your
musical voice, my eyes to see your face
when your sapphire, diamond eyes
glowed brightly as you smiled at
something stupid that I said,
back when I could feel your love
coursing through my muscles, an
electric current sparking
something to life within me, I'm left
without a word to describe it.

Now, however, that spark has ignited into
unmanageable flames, eating all
that they touch, devouring my soul in
a storm of icy heat, filling
my lungs with ash and freezing everything
into an emotionless coma that
only your touch could break
I wanna **** myself in a thousand ways.
I wanna feel nothing but pain for days.
I wanna lose my ******* mind,
and never think again.
I want you to rip up
my pedals,
my roots
and my stem.
I wanna die
and be dead forever,
I wanna be plucked
of every feather.
I want no one
to sit around with,
to feel horrible together.
This feeling
is best felt alone,
it slips in
like a crisp breeze,
frosting your bones.
Then it warms up your heart,
but it doesn't make you better.
It ***** with my head,
and makes me write you these letters.
Until i want nothing else,
then to be able to forget,
the prettiest elf.
But you can relate
to how bad this must be,
accept that every day,
there's no one
Loving you
more than me.
And now
there is nothing
but fate to steal.
But i have faith,
that I could heal.
This terrible affliction,
you're forced to feel.
I love you,
and I want your life.
To be filled with love,
and free from strife.
FrankieM Jan 2018
I’m going home
Even though supposedly
I’ve always been

I’m sure
If you searched hard enough
You’ll find me

In a memory
Camouflaged as rose pedals
A gray sky perhaps

I’m going home
And when I do I will
Be a part of your world

At last
On never truly belonging
Sebastian Macias Apr 2018
A word alone can not describe
The awful pain one carries
Once the flower in their life
Has damaged it's pedals
I see us as a garden
The tornado that protects us
Is also the one who destroys us
There is no level high enough
Of the remorse I feel
A sadness so pure
I am almost grateful for such
An authentic emotion in a lost world
You are a greatness in this world
Whom should be showered
From the heavens with praise and love
May the waters of the ocean
Cleanse the dark caves we've walked
May the bright blue sky
Kiss you in the night
I am here with you, all day and forever
With love,
Erica Aug 2018
she's your rose
but you turned her white petals
r e d
soaked in her own blood
her pedals ruined because of your words
because of your actions
but she stayed with you because you torture her stem
spraying her with what she thought was water but in fact was
p o i s o n
and one day you grab her wrong and get pricked by her mighty thorns
and after everything
you leave her
with her blood soaked rose petals
and poison stem
Olivia Daniels Oct 2018
Pink-Haired Wildflower
I know you.
I see you.
everyday at least once

Your pedals are short
   and cute
   chopped off at the chin
Your clothes are loose
   and indie
   style, you wear so well

You walk so confidently
      each stride your own.
You glitter shining vibrantly
      like the stud in your nose.
You smile so easily
      and laugh with no care in the world.

Pink-Haired Wildflower
do you know me?
do you see me?
each time I pass you on the way
I look at you
and try not to stare
your flowered beauty beholds me

I wonder what you think of me
This bent over gait
   fool. I am
   struggling to stay upright.

Can you see the weight on my shoulders?
The stress in my complexion?
      my gnawed on nails and torn skin
Tell me, what do you see in my gaze?

I wish I possessed your confidence.
Your grace in billowed petals.
Your fragrance has a trail
   that always circles back to me.
   everyday I see you.
   though I say nothing.

Whatever you are
I want you in a bouquet on my bedside table
as I lie there
trying not to cry
or die.
Let your rank beauty infect me
aromatic surround me.

Be mine.
Lay claim to me.
Show me your ways.

or at least learn my name
as if I knew yours

You're a stranger to me Pink-Haired Wildflower
last night your dyed your hair Blue
For this girl I see literally every day. I've never talked to her, only seen her around campus. Today she came to my work... I have this weird feeling of connection to her
ottaross Jun 2016
We went to a play last week

Actors strutted around

Among a set of tall buildings

Made of actual stone of grey

And billowing smoke

And noises

And crowds.

Upon the great stage they talked

About their ancient ideas

Like wars

And politics

And freedom.

In one scene an actor yelled

and swung a mighty hand

and struck the other man!

And though we knew

It was really just acting

The idea that one

Could hit another

Shocked all of us in the audience
So powerfully

And a few people even left

The theatre

In tears.

But there were funny bits too

In the play that night.

A character said he had a car.

His Own. 

And together they were to drive

Both of them

Off to an aeroport.

Like with all the steering,

And foot pedals,

And everything.

And in a very sad part

Someone treated someone else badly

And called her names

Because of the colour

Of her skin

And because she had come

From somewhere else.

And all our eyes were wet for a while.

One man used a device

Which was an ancient komputer.

Two flat parts with a hinge

And it opened upon his lap

And one side glowed brightly

To illuminate his face

And he presses a bunch of button-keys

To spell words and things

Because that’s how they told the


What to do.

And we all laughed.

when it was over a bunch of us asked the man that was hit if he was okay was he really okay it looked terrible and did they really have to do that awful thing in the play and was the other actor a bad man and he said no, it was alright and the other actor was a nice man and that it didn’t hurt at all and he said he was sorry that it scared us but it was the violence of the time and the people of that time and we said we kind of understood.

And we all felt better

But one lady

Still needed to hug him.

And his eyes

Were a little wet too.
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
One of these days
I will be on deck, put pedals on my boat
Low it down the deepest streams
And you will watch me as I slowly sail away
Towards the ocean, underneath a stormy sky
Floating ahead of the hightest tides
There I will dive in with everything that I am
Wash away your promises and love notes
Feed your rebukes and blames to the sharks
Then one day
I will return, not for you
'Cause I will not know a thing about you but I will notice you if you dare try to take advantage of my Amnesia
This is a note to self: I will never come back to you, despite your changes. I lost track of who you were before I even left, so let's be these strangers.
Mr Morningstar Nov 2018
Do you remember how it felt when she was next to you.
Can you recall the rhythm of her breathing, or the smell of her hair?
Is there memories of the good times? Do you block out the bad.
Her body was your temple.
Yet you raged like an angry bull.
How dare you put fists where rose pedals belonged.
She is not perfect. But she is a beautiful disaster
Like a hurricane in the coast.
Yet you still tried to extinguish the fire that roared inside her.
How dare you.
Victor D Aguayo Oct 2018
I can't stand the sight of you
Your smile splitting in every bend
Sitting here with her arms shaking
After she's told me, beginning to end

I know what you have done before
To the small garden under the setting sun
With only just a few seasons more
Till your hands have already begun

And many would walk through with care
Or some without even much to give
As you gave such a sickening stare
At the stems that still have much to live

With warm pedals as certain as summer
Frozen and silent from the winter in you
You were finally alone in the lovely garden
So you did what no father should ever do

And like a strong shake of the devil's hand
You've placed my mind beyond the fire
A false heart under my knifes plan
Your punishment is what I sadly desire

But her garden more beautiful than ever
Her hand touching mine with ease
You're so lucky she forgives you now
Without making you beg on your knees
The snow.
Several inches thick.
It gives no chance for the
sun to work its

No green
g r a s s . No
colorful   b u t t e r f l i e s .
No leafy   t r e e s . And
no pretty
f l o w e r s .

But one
flower, braver than
the others, uses all of its strength
to rise and break through
the earth.

Its pretty
light up the snow
and beg for spring.

That one pretty flower
inspires others,
though not just flowers.

Us people should,
rise up and shine bright.
So go on and share your bright colors!
Inspired by my superhero friend! :)
Bo Tansky Feb 7
Until Now

You have taken the words from my own
You are the pedals in my poem
A riddle wrapped in a rose
Cherry pie a la mode
A garden of poppy prose
Poppy I have waited for so long
Followed the primrose path
Running along to your song
Swung from the branches of your stanzas
Hidden in honeysuckle extravaganza
Picadillos and innuendos
Words sprung from fertile ground
Budding images messing  
A delicate balance
A lover’s dalliance
A vineyard
Of the triggered and the inward
Thickets of thorny morning glories
Questing bouquets of lily days
Where daffodils
Are dressed to ****
And a single rose grows
Stem to stern
I have felt the male fern
And the grass burn
And the willow cry
And the dragonfly fly by
In the blink of an eye
But I have never ever felt you.
Until now.
Dani Aug 2018
A single string, a strand of hair
Tiny, almost unseen
A flower in a field
At the center of your life
Dropping pedals slowly
Alone, blowing in the winds
The single string holds on
The lost flower stands tall
Unnoticed but
Not insignificant

A tiny piece
That no one sees
Yet a giant that stomps on by
One day you’ll understand
You’ll see
Just how big this is
How strong this is
I tell you now
But you do not know

I talk of something
That no one wants to feel
But you will,
One day you will know
The delicate touch
And strong force it brings
It’ll be too late though
For you did not notice before
The flower in a field
Blowing in the wind

You did not notice before
The string across your life
Holding everything together
With strength and softness
As it floats on by
Lost as it passes
Pedals gone as they fall
Never returning

Only leaving memories
Of what it once was
A single string, a strand of hair
Tiny, almost unseen,
A flower in a field,
At the center of your life
Eva Rushton Jun 17
Upon my cheek sat a tear of thy death
A dove flew in and gently plucked it
Flying away with it
Landing on a wilted rose
The tear was released upon the rose and behold
The flower birthed and a bushel of
Beautiful red pedals ignited a fragrance that penetrated my heart  and tenderly placed a smile within my lips

Written by E.M. Rushton
June 16 th 2019
All ©️Copyrights reserved 2019 by E. M . Rushton
I take my shoes off at the door of your palace floor,
What I brought in my basket, cannot be found at any store,
For the fruit I bear, is stronger then that of Samson's hair,
Most of what I brought to share,
So pull a seat for my hind and feet and pour some tea,
A warm *** is steeping as stories begin seeping in, my throat and heart begin to open,
I put my hope in the back of my eyelids and we both cross our legs to meditate,
We create a pink lotus around us with not a second to hesitate, we start creating a pond around us,
Sitting on the surface of the water, the tea soaks and spirals into our soft pink brain,
Depicting ourselves here as the lotus closes its pedals in around us, it gets dark,
The light within is eternal and white, a bright sight,
The next morning the cold fog tickles the edges of the lotus as it softly opens,
The sky transforms into a golden light,
We open our eyes and the tea is gone,
A neat table sits in front of us,
Namaste and bow,
May we meet again soon,
Perhaps as the light of the nightly moon.
m h John Jan 24
Love is like a flower
We pick the most exquisite ones
The ones that look most delicate,
And blow the lightest in the wind.
Once picked,
we take care of it
We feed it
and place it in light
Trying our best to make it last.
Until the pedals start to fall
We try reattaching them,
Shaking the flower
More fell off
And we are left
With nothing but roots
Flowers don’t always last, and neither does love
Donall Dempsey Dec 2018

The dog is dreaming
under the piano

asleep across
its foot pedals.

The clock announces
the seconds

in a loud hear ye hear ye
town cryer's voice.

A bumble bee is arguing
furiously with the glass

of a cracked
window pane.

Time is defeated.

A human is crying.

Time is different
for the clock, the bee and

the crying human.

Time ceases to exist
lost in his grief.

His brother is dead.

Somewhere in the journey
around the sun

he has left the planet.

Earth continues on
without him.

He sees his brother

wear his face.

Walk with his gait.

He almost expects
to hear

his voice in the dark
at the turn of the stairs.

He sees him many times
in many mirrors.

Or in the back of a spoon.

His face trapped
in a cobweb.

It always appears
as if

he has just left
the room and

will be back
any second now

but: he isn't. . .

The dog is still
asleep under the piano.

The clock has run
out of time.

The silence is terrifying.

The bee it seems is
dozing on the window ledge.

The human
is crying.
Pauper of Prose Sep 2018
Insects layered lilac pedals upon her skin
As if she was a nexus of nectar
As if her body were the chalice of youth
And all that dripped from her, made her a fountain
That flooded the halls of fatherly time
Leaving her ignorant of seconds, minutes, hours
So why do the insects dress her like the flowers?
Because to the ideal of a perfect plant, she is treason
For she never decays in any season
I struggle to come to grips with the sheer beauty the muse has laid before me. Are all artists not merely insects?
Napolis Sep 2018
I take
her hand

tide is going

all the

of her

will be
no longer

safe in

her life
to the

the sorrow,
the love

will be

like broken


thrown upon

this beach.


never to

be put

back together


at hand.

like rose


the sunlight

to guide


she knows
not where
to begin.

lovers from
her past
about her

like wild
for scraps
of red



but she
will have
none of it.

because she

knows  it
is time,

to begin
her new

life without
Andika Putra Jul 7
paper & pencil & glass & radio & television & books & motocycle & laptop & LP & number & pedals & clock & a key & windows & doors & people & a kid & a women & shadows & bones & shoes & guitar & rain & wind & the sun & the club & wheels & noises & picture & red & hat & a tie & handband & roads & sunglasses & lips & crying & Harley Davidson & comic books & movies & theater & music & a old man, with his own words/ in a silent room.
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