Daylight 4U2C May 2014
Always seeing,
always watching.
A close distance.
Like bounds of stars,
close to the eye,
but actually far.
Curious stares
circle the world.
Not really sure
where utopia is,
but being a flower in the wall,
means growing to the sky.
Holding hope like pollen,
and having meet and greets,
with the visitors.
These are the wallflower ways.
A wallflower is a person who plays the background role in life. They just observe (mostly at parties). Just sticking around near the walls, like flowers. Hence the name.


I've never seen perks of being a wallflower, but I am and will always be that flower growing near the wall.
People don't comprehend that there are two ways of understanding; one is by having been in the situation, and the other is by listening in to the conditions.
We always never though of parting
But fate decides for us
There is no use in weeping
A remembrance in ones heart
Parting was the least we expected
We part like two parallel lines
We 'll just take them as they come
The memories is what is left
We will think of one another
When we are parted
We 'll connect with our memories
Parting might be the best for us
But never the bravest step we took
Parting hurts out hearts
But might be the only answer
Parting reduces us both
But parting ways is all we got left
Cain Jan 2013
Tears wept like droplets beneath a faulty pipe; for the braves
A woman stranded wondering, Is this the last goodbye?
A man stood pondering petrified, contemplating his demise
An infant unable to comprehend, yet she nonetheless cries
A captain sat perplexed, These lives are jeopardized
An ocean parting waves coupled by parting waves
The horizon sits between them as an autumn sky.
Alan S Bailey Mar 2015
America,
Violent are your "peace bringing ways,"
Soiled are your oily lakes and dumps of "cleanliness,"
Tattered your past, your pox blankets you shared
With the Tribes, filling their lives with "blessedness"
Boring are your churches of "joy and eternal bliss,"
Poor are your "satisfied costumers" hopeless days,
Pride goeth before a fall, and yours shall
Be it's own undoing with your stubborn ways.
antony glaser Jun 2012
For those ailing worlds,
Brave leaves blow erstwhile.
Those suffocated trees
poise down the High Street
fickle wind - heckles
once proud alleyways,
whose heavy Terracotta pots
are moved from their base
and so broken dahlias lay prostrate
lamenting their cruel dominion.
Arik Fletcher Nov 2010
Farewell to you, my loving friend,
For all good times must have an end,
To bridge the gaps, all wounds to mend,
To you these words I truthfully send,

You've always been so kind and smart,
I've loved you from the very start,
Please keep me with you in your heart,
Remember me as I depart,

And as I take this next big leap,
Through all the hardships that I reap,
Your friendship is what I will keep,
To light my way through darkness deep.
Nekatu Poetry © Arik Fletcher
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
We will walk through the Cherry blossoms
in Japan, hand in hand, meandering through
the falling petals.  Our winding path
will weave through the countryside  with
no goal in sight.  We will stop in front of a
particularly beautiful tree, whose branches
are just beginning to look naked.

I will look at you, brush a stray blossom
from your hair...and whisper

           Aishiteru
               .                                                                ­                   
                   .                                                                ­                
                     .   .                                                                ­            
                               .                                                                ­          
                                     .                                                                ­        
                             We trek the Arctic circle and witness
                             the absolute beauty of the Aurora Borealis.                       
                             We're be bundled tightly in our parkas,                                     
                    ­         but we are still be able to feel eachother's                                   
                  ­           warmth.  We laugh as we throw snowballs.
                             We lie in the snow and make angels.                                          
               ­              Well...they'll start out as angels, but in the                                 
                            ­ end, they'll just look like snow that two people                          
                             have just rolled around in.                                                  
           ­                                                                 ­                      
                                              We can't help it.  As we embrace,                             
                           ­                   I whisper
                                                     Negligevapse                                                    
­                                                         .                                          
                     ­                                     .                           ­             
                                                          .     ­                                   
                                                         .                                          
                     ­                                   .                             ­             
                                                     .                                            
                   ­                              .                                                  
             ­                              .                                                        
       ­                                                                 ­                          
         We stroll the beaches of Hawaii, refreshing ocean                                    
         breezes cool us.  I picked you a flower,
         which you now wear in your hair.  Your cinnamon                               
         brown skin offsets your beautiful white smile.                                       
         We run through the breaking waves, our feet                                                
         leaving ephemeral indentations that are as                                             
         fleeting as our cares.  We fall over into                                                     
       ­  the surf and let the ocean wash over us.                                                     
        ­                                                                 ­                         
              I kiss your nose and tell you                                                          
   ­                   Aloha wau ia oi                                                               ­             
                              .                    ­                                                
                ­                  .                                      In China, we race eachother along   
                                     .                               .   the Great Wall to see who can get 
                                        .                   ­        .    to the end first.  We both end up   
                                           .                     .       dragging eachother across the         
                                             .               .           finish line...which happens to be      
                                                 .   .   .               a few hundred feet away.          
                                                 ­                        The locals shake their                
                                           ­                              heads disaprovingly, as we stifle      
                                                    ­                     a giggle.  I lean in and remind you  
                                                           ­                                       
                         ­                                                   Wo ai ni..                    
                                                             .  .                      .            
                         ­                                 .       .                     .          
                                                       .            .                   .          
                                                     .               .                 .            
                                                   .                  .   .   .   .  .            
                                                 .                                                
               ­                In Soviet Russia, girl kiss you                                              
               ­                and I gladly let her, for she                                               
              ­                 and I have had one too many shots                                 
                          ­     of vodka.  Our faces are rosy and                                       
                      ­         we lean into each other as our feet                                     
                       ­        make hard noises on the cobblestone                                       
              ­                 streets.  Saint Basil's Cathedral                                          
             ­                  looms over us, as our lips dance                                           
                ­               a familiar dance.                                                           ­       
                                                                ­                                  
                              ­            Ya tebya liubliu                                                        
 ­                                                .                                                
                                                 .                                                
            .  .  .  .                          .               ­                                   
         .             .                      .                                         ­           
       .                .                   .                                                      
      .                    .  .  .  .  .  .                                                 ­       
    .                                                           ­                                   
We gaze at the Taj Mahal, a building                                                         ­   
built for a man's true love. I would                                                            ­      
build you a city.  we take in the                                                              ­          
mighty majesty of Everest.  I tell                                                             ­                
you I'd climb it for you.  You tell                                                             ­              
me to stop being silly, and say
you'd get bored waiting for me.
I give you a back rub instead.                                            

  Hum Tumhe Pyar Karte hae 
                                                            ­             We travel the dutch  countryside
                                              ­                            and kick off our wooden shoes to
                   .                                          ­            watch the tulips blooming.
                       .                                            .     I dedicate an entire field to you.
                          .                                 ­    .         You blush.
                              .                           ­   .         we fall asleep in front of a windmill,
                                 .     .                  .          watching the shapes of the clouds pass
                                         .      .      .             over us. I whisper in your ear
                                                             ­                                                                 ­      
                                                                ­       Ik hou van jou
                                                             ­             .                        
                                                                ­         .                          
                                     ­                                  .                            
                                   ­                                  .                              
                                 ­                                  .                                
                               ­                                  .                                  
                             ­            .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .                                           ­ 
    France has never been as beautiful as                                                               ­   
    it is now that you're here.  We skirt                                                            ­         
    the cities and explore the countryside,                                                     ­           
    Endless fields and clear skies bring                                                            ­     
    out our inner children, and spend the day
    romping and rolling until our clothes                                                          ­  
    are stained and our muscles ache.  I                                                         ­             
    lay beside you, panting.  In between                                                          ­       
    breaths, I manage to impart                                                           ­                
                                                ­                                                            
    ­                                                                 ­                                       
               Je t'aime                                                           ­                                 
                   .                                                                ­                        
                    .                                           ­                                             
                   ­   .                                                             ­                         
                        .              ­                                                                 ­     
                          .  .  .    .    .       .          .                                                    
                                                                ­                                            
                    ­                                            We explore Roman ruins and concoct      
                                                   ­             our own love story had we been born      
                                                      ­          in the Ancient city.  I would have        
                                                    ­            been a mighty General, who saved      
                                                     ­           you from a terrible dicator.  You            
                                       ­                         tell me to stop quoting Gladiator.       
                                               ­                 We share a kiss under the shadow           
                                               ­                 of the colleseum.  I brush your         
                                                   ­             hair from your face...                       
                                  ­                                                                 ­       
                                                         ­                  Ti Amo                              
                                                                ­               .                          
                                                                ­                                          
                      ­                                                        .        ­                    
                                            ­                                                              
  ­                                                                 ­        .                              
                                                                ­                                          
                      ­                                                                 ­                   
                                             ­                           .                                  
  ­                                                                 ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­                
                                                ­                    .                                      
     ­                                                                 ­                                    
                            ­                           You smile and reply                                   
                        ­                                                                 ­                 
                                               ­             I love you, too
Feeling hopelessly romantic today.
CA Guilfoyle May 2017
In these woods
where I am small, I watch breath rise and fall
in these pines of a hundred years or more
from pine cones, skyward moving slow.
I watch rain running down craggy bark,
soaking softly the moss and flowers below.

In the summer sun of heat, I lose myself complete
in the fragrant warmth of pinewood air.
The moss - yellow, green
in waves, it hangs wispy from the trees

Here where evening brings the birds and breezes quivering,
the wind shakes the forest trees, deep and echoing
the ravens woods speak to thee.
F White Dec 2015
Sometimes, looking at you in the light of the kitchen  I want
to run a finger
Down the length of your nose but
I know you'd wrinkle it, and shake your head citing a tickle, but kiss behind my shoulder as soon
As I turn away

When my feet make ice pools in the bed
Toes accidentally brushing your ankle and you jerk abruptly, but upon hearing
My sigh, trap them back with your ankles til, martyr that you are, I'm engulfed in
Warmth at your
Expense.

Sometimes the last trickle of milk is mine, for the coffee,
Silent with your eyes smiling fondly, you look on as I sip, resolutely stirring powdered
Dead baby souls into mug as substitute.

Even damp smelly socks
Greasy hair
Neurotic tears and
Intellectual rambling epiphanies

Even childish blunders, fudging the
Budget or burning the toast

You still call me your Babe

And love Me.
The most.
Copyright fhw, 2015
Samuel Lombardo Sep 2014
Love
Intrigues
God's
Holy
Tour!

Lift
Ignorance
Gone
Hell
Twice!

Light of
Innocence on
Garden from
Heaven in
Three Spirits!
God is light- and if you follow the light, you do not need to dispel from light you have,rather from darkness your in.
With demonic eyes
We look to the skies
And wait for that day to come
We can break free from this curse
And free for once
But please understand coz this hurts

This curse, it breaks us it separates it burns
I don't know how long i can hold on, this may not work
Aa will and my way keep colliding our fate
Our love is now anger and it's turning to hate
Let's end this while we can and reverse this goodbye now, our fate


We've built a wall that i know we can't break
Together it's time to cut these chains we've made our fate
Tonight is the night, let's end this no time now to wait
Together we part hands my leaving you our fate

And if you think that i wanted this to end,
Before i leave i'll write this with tears that i spend
About my feelings for you that you know will never change
my heart is now drowning with anger and rage

So before i go please tell me one thing,
Was our love once true, passionateley i sing
To death with forever let's go now i soar on my wing
Our promises of yesterday make me vomit my ears closing they ring
Tonight is the night to end this bitch,
So fuck you i sing...

We've built a wall that i know we can't break
Together it's time to cut these chains we've made our fate
Tonight is the night lets end this no time to wait
Together we part hands, this ending our fate

Tonight is the night let's end this
Tonight is the night lets stop this our hate
Lets part ways and finish together we wait
Now is the time no stopping no ending is too late
JP May 2015
My friend took a picture of the President.
She probably has assassinated the President,
if cameras were guns.

There are a lot of people taking selfies.
There are probably a lot of people who died of suicide,
if cameras were guns.

There are a lot of people who take pictures at their most joyous moments.
There are probably a lot of people who died at their most joyous moments,
if cameras were guns.

There are a lot of soldiers, innocent people, who died, are dying, and will die, at war.
There are probably a lot of soldiers, innocent people, still alive, living, will live,
if guns were cameras.
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