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Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
child of heart
but not of womb,
would i'd been
gifted to ban the
hope-thieving,
spirit-throwing
parasitic lies,
to shelter ears
& fragile petals
against bruising,
whiskey-glazed
acts and words.
would i might be
gifted now to
soothe, cradling
tender soul through
deadest night's
watery gloom.
yet firmly i know
none other will ever
be gifted to bestow
what only One balm
can perfectly renew,
and He waits for you,
my beautiful girl.
Bryan Lunsford May 2018
With rose petals at the floor of your feet and with candles lit lighting up our scenery,
I know I've never felt more complete than I do right now (with you here with me)

For you are my perfect symphony,
As here, I watch our hearts carry the beat,
(In the midst of our bodies producing this heat)
And I lay you down–where our hearts melt degree by degree,
Making love to you, there, delicately and ever so sweet
x Jul 2018
he called me
his sunflower
when he said that
my petals never shined brighter
Cné Mar 2016
Mentally beginning anew,
Shower and storms scramble,
A mind, a mess, stuck in the cold of blue,
Writhing in pain without preamble.

A season after the cries of winter,
The tears of petals shed,
Flows hope once more enter
Where a broken heart bleed.

Relief of breath ooze,
As fragile blooms of forgiveness peek,
Through darken days of self abuse,
To nurture the delicate emotional physique,

Healing in time blind,
Pure instinct survives,
An emotional breakdown of the mind.
Until finally, awaken spring arrives.
In winter, depression manages to take its strong grip on me, almost strangling me. Spring is a breath of fresh air to my mind, with its negative inner voice.
SøułSurvivør Mar 2015
~.~.~.~


floating
on the breeze
swirling
in a swoon
laments in
blue and purple
are the
petals of the moon

waned a
crescent of a flower
waxed to
cabbage rose
now the
tight held tithes
sift down
in
airy
floes

lying in the grass
of a dark
wide-open
field
sweet
swanning
petals find me
moon's offerings
revealed

i inhale their
fragrance
their light sweet perfume
they cover me
with kisses

the
petals
of
the
moon
soulsurvivor
(c) 2014
rewritten
(c) march 12, 2015

Dedicated to my dear friend Jonnie... she makes me happy!

This is one of my most popular & beloved poems, my dear! I hope you enjoyed it!

God Bless & Happy Thanksgiving!
Aditi Jan 2018
My petals were withering,
The butterflies turned into wasps.
An oppressive silence-
Weighing down on my conscience
And the fingertips - used to drawing sunrises
-compelled  to write eulogies instead.
Of Chapped lips and vacant eyes.
And how the autumn had caught up to us.


And I remembered,
With an aching guilt-
How I had not even played in the rain,
Not much, not at all.

My words had rusted,
My voice- cracked, and unfamiliar
Even to my own ears.
The summer long poems that I wrote in love
Were set ablaze,
To help me survive a winter
without you.
Oh, when I said our love would keep us warm
This is not exactly how i had it planned.

And you did not get to read even a word.
One always thinks they have time.
But we did not.
Not then, and definitely not now.

As a child, I grew up wanting a lot from myself
-even the world, if I were to be honest.
Somewhere along the line,
All I wanted was for this all to not hurt.
And somehow the polar opposites are more alike
Than I'd have thought.
'Cause you see, people who want a bit of everything
Are very close to wanting nothing in particular, not much.

And I wish I had learnt to differentiate
Of when to sharpen my sword and when to use my pen
Cause now I'm down to my last petal
And all you have is a blue splotch on your shirt.
Heath Leonard Aug 2013
Gazes fall to flowers in bloom,
they drift in wind, perform for all eyes,
happy to please without words.
Magnificent are the colors seen,
dancing across lines of sight,
confident in their shimmering beauty.
As time goes by, so does life,
weathering storms, horrid drought,
till all that's left are shredded weeds.
Delicate petals on a center death bed,
no winds to sway, no colors to flare,
unable to draw a single gasp.
Light blue fades to weary grey,
shriveled stem reaching for someone, anyone,
before finally giving up.
Forget-me-nots are quite ironic,
for everyone forgets petals when they fall;
They always do.
B D Caissie Sep 3
The ephemeral beauty of a bloom.
Is cherished because it’s gone too soon.

Petals weaken and colours must fade.
Falling to earth whence it was made.

Light shines upon thee though tears fall like rain.
Find peace for blossoms in heaven forever remain.
She's beautiful,
And it shows,
But her beauty I love most,
Not in her petals,
But where the roots grow
Aléa Boodoo Jan 29
I smile even when it’s the last thing on my mind.
But it’s fake.
I love even when the same energy isn’t being given.
Big mistake.
Maybe I laugh because each time I hope my happiness will stay and become real.
Maybe it’s easier to think everything is a joke than to actually feel.
Why do I write my thoughts?
Why does it fall in rhyme?
Gives me a place to breathe. Feel a sense of peace one last time.
I’m on an unexplained mission. Searching the petals and waters for a sign.
Have you seen a love that is sweet, and divine?
Why did love make it so easy to fall in it? I love because and even though.
I love everything my lover does. Any wishes they have, i’ll never say no.
Allergic to heartbreak.
Yet addicted to love.
Medicine to every headache.
Yet it’s never enough.
Sanity to my insanity.
My heart starts to wonder.
How to stand the rain. How to get over somebody.
Because all I’ve ever known was under.
This class of love is confusing. Why can’t I ever learn?
In this game, I always feel like i’m losing. And I never even got a turn.
So I’ll smile when it rains, and I won’t deny that it’s fake.
I’ll repeat the same mistake, and drive on love, although everyone is telling me to break.
Most importantly, I’ll stop loving you. For mine, and God’s sake.
6/26/2017
Diamond Flame May 2017
From her soft, fair skin
To her messy, curly hair.
Her soft, kind smile and
Her thin figure..
They all saw her as gentle beauty.
They don't know, do they?
They don't know that her scars don't come from her favorite rose bush.
They don't know how much she hates her "adorable" freckles.
They don't know that when she looks down at her body, she sees an elephant.
They don't know that she has never nor will she ever see herself as beautiful.
She doesn't understand what they see.
She doesn't understand what he sees.
You all have the story wrong.
She didn't fall in love with a beast.
The beasts were in her mind.
Beauty was killed by her beasts..
And no one could see behind her bright smile.
Kevin J Taylor Feb 2016
Sunflowers! Crowns golden!
Violets! Sweet petals, blue!
Carnations! Pinks! Whites!
         —And my Love for You!

Dahlias! Such beauty!
Tulips! Who knew!
Orchids! Red roses!
         —And my Love for You!
.
cait-cait May 2018
i.

eyes on fire ,
i lit a match and
watched you burn

i don’t know how long i stayed
sitting down
.

ii.

when angels were still alive ,
did they look at
the clouds ,?

do they remember how they
died
?

iii.

my skin peels in the green grass —
composted , the
fence rots and the sun
shines gold ,

this is what they call
"giving back."

iv.

blue tears leak
like petals down your cheeks .
.

everyone cries with you.
//
im catching up on the cartoon steven universe and playing old video games. im so ******* selfish but what can you really do about that type of stuff?
PoserPersona Jun 2018
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Petals 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

II.
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

III.
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

IV.
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.
Cynthia Feb 2018
A rose is active in the storm,
Its smell is an unexplainable redolence
It thrives to flourish.

A rose will wither away
inside a crystal vase or on firm ground.
A liquid substance is necessary to live and to rise,
just like He rose.

I wish to know the first time you blushed.
I wish I were there to pick you up when you fell as a child for the first time, and leaves fell to the ground.
I wish I were there the moment petals where stripped away from your body.

I wish to see you speak with radiant tenderness.
Your words and syllabus pierced through doors,
doors that were permanently locked in the heart of stone.

Meanwhile, I am just an ovule wishing to respond in a corollary way that slowly grows in a dark world
but like you rose
I will rise.
Timur Shamatov Aug 2018
Like rose petals in a wind
Souls caught in a whirlwind
I feel your body collide with mine
Friction of your lips on mine
Sweet as honey
I can taste the essence of your soul
In a crazy spin we lose control
Slipping in too deep
Swept up - flying high
Like asteroids colliding, exploding
In a passion burning bright
With you in love I wanna be
I won’t be made to fear
In love with you I wanna disappear
Yuki Jan 27
I have been blessed with
a rose of blue petals
upon which I could read:
I will wait for you
‘till the end of time
on the other side of the world
to admire the most beautiful
northern lights
that are nothing compared
to the blue of your eyes.
Alyssa Underwood Apr 2017
Might there be a fountain
where souls long dead from thirst
find spirits raised to life in floods abounding free,
so that what once walked as corpse,
night-bound and blind, may see?
Old self exchanged for Treasure,
diving in tastes such rejuvenation
as can't be weighed by mortal measure—
wine unlike our earth-grown fruit whose petals fall,
from this Vine flowers the pleasantness of Love Divine
which bathes in healing waters all
who come as humble newborn with bold **** to dine.
"Jesus answered, 'Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.'"  John 4:13-14

"Then Jesus declared, 'I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me will never go hungry, and he who believes in Me will never be thirsty.'"  John 6:35

"On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, 'If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.'"  John 7:37-38

"'I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.'"  John 15:5

~~~

Structure inspired by a poem from the journal of Jim Elliot
I remember that day
Sitting by the river
in your arms

The petals from the cherry blossom tree
fell into the flowing water

You made a promise that you will never let me go
Even when raindrops fall in my soul
Even when the storms stir my sea
You will never let me go
You will guide me to the rainbow
And the sweet smell after the rain
This was your petrichor petal promise

Then that day
When raindrops fell down in my soul
You left me alone...
And broke your petrichor petal promise



Now I sit by the same old river
that has the same flowing water
and the same cherry blossoms
But I was not in your arms

I then made my own
petrichor petal promises

That I won't fall so easily
Like the petals of the cherry blossom tree
I will continue to flow
Even when raindrops fall
I will guide myself to the rainbow
And the sweet smell of rain after the storm
The petrichor after the sorrow

These are my petrichor petal promises
to myself
Petrichor: The sweet smell after rain...Day 5 of the month long poetry challenge
js Nov 2018
It withers

near a bare
tree,

under skies
filled with
gray.

It withers

with tired petals
amid dullness, and

rain.

I see it wither

here.

I see what

remains.

Poor haggard

thing

with no place to
go.

I see it wither here

without
ever seeing
it

grow.
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