Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ok okay Oct 2019
We stood hand in hand by the meadow up the hill.
It was almost as if time stood still.
I wish this dream would never end.
So our love could flourish with our flower bed.
I said ‘please don’t leave, I love you so.’
She replied ‘I love you too, but now I must go’
this is part of a book i am writing
ok okay Sep 2019
A meadow made for lovers
Between nowhere and forever
Beneath the fragile stars
We spot fireflies and share our most inner thoughts
Silence is the greatest sympathy the earth gives
I can only wonder what we will dream about
Tonight this flower bed will be ours
imagination is fun  !
Rochelle Foles May 2019
her grandmother        stood at the window in the kitchen

             the corners of her mouth turned up into
                  an unconscious slight smile
                  at the sight
                             of a spinning yellow blur  
                              under the big oak
                              in the middle of the pasture
                              surrounded by green grasses
                                                       wonderous hues of wildflowers

she quietly called out to grandad
                             come see this

                the lanky cowboy sauntered in
                             from the breezeway
                             with his umpteenth cup of coffee
                              peered at the blur of yellow
                              
                              opened the side door
                              stepped out on the deck beside the metal glider and
                                   called out in his smooth baritone voice

                                      sheeeeeelllllliiii...
                                      sheeeeeelllllliiii  lllllloooooooooo...
                                      


she might have
                             been 4
                                   or perhaps five

              precious in the way
                  innocent girls that age are


               dressed in smocked yellow lawn
                                                white lace
                                                patent leather

                                                  up to her shins in spring grasses
    
      slowing her spin
      she turned toward her name

       her face radiant she took a wobbly step or two
      then broke into an off kilter run
                                                 arms stretched out before her

      he took a few long strides
bent his tall body low
offering a bent knee
                 wide open arms


she flew into them with all her might
                   knowing she would be caught
                   rough housed with
                   and given a wickereye

            





                   from the window her grandmother took it all in
                                sighed
                                said to herself
                                         hold this dear
                                         hold this snapshot of the soul
                          

                                         for.                           ever.
my granddad and i had a love-love-andmore-love based relationship.  he’s my greatest hero and the man John Wayne wished he was in real life.  we worshiped each other and i will forever and all ways n always hold him close in my heart.  what a lucky girl i’ve been!
Jurtin Albine Nov 2018
(And I've been picking dandelions)

The rush of wind chases a wayward cloud
Over the foliage's luscious green mounds
It billows on its good fortune allowed
Feeding flowers leave stock's
roots underground

Petals bloom; centered bud's pollinations
The sun burdens and caresses at once
The bumble lost its edge to pollutants
Overcome in the tepid meadows grace

The seasons start to grow long and narrow
Encompassing the changing of our times
within their altering breadths; to and fro
It's shown upon the rocks face's in tides

She's beauty, ruffling with sents of sweet dew
And in her pluck, spring has become renewed
Juno Nov 2018
Are you coming to the Meadow
Where the grass is green?
Are you coming to the Meadow
To remember me?

Are you coming to the Meadow
Where they set me free?
Are you coming to the Meadow
Where they buried me deep?

Are you coming to the Meadow?
Will we meet again?
Are you coming to the Meadow?
I’ll be happy then.

Are you coming to the Meadow
To finally join us?
Are you coming to the Meadow
Where life is joyous?
Next page