Poetry competition CLOSED 10th December 2012 8:51pm
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gorryone810
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Flower Petals

Icuduseahugritenow
Icuduseahugritenow
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Poetry Contest

Do you pluck off flower pedals in hope your crush likes you back?
Think back to the silly days of counting flower petals and write about a silly crush. Be creative, think  back to when you were young and nieve

Rules
no clabs
2 entries per poet
GO!

Icuduseahugritenow
Icuduseahugritenow
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*Petals

poet Anonymous

Eventually They Wilt

Across the room our eyes meet
he never once looks away
I feel my cheeks turn shades of crimson

He Loves Me

My number I slip into his pocket
as I walk by him, heading home
days pass and the phone never rings

He Loves Me Not

At last, the call I have waited for
a connection unlike any other
two hearts beating as one

He Loves Me

The perfume of the fragrant rose
could only last so long
then the petals wilt and fall to the floor
as did the romance...that we have no more

He Loves Me Not

opheliac
opheliac
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lovely competition idea and quite creative as well! I have to get back with my entry, hopefully soon!

Icuduseahugritenow
Icuduseahugritenow
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opheliac said:lovely competition idea and quite creative as well! I have to get back with my entry, hopefully soon!
Thank you looking forward to it

shaunda
shaunda
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I'm entering a poem that I wrote a couple of months ago. Hope that's ok. If not let me know and Ill take it out.

shaunda
shaunda
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http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/72878.jpg
Death of a daisy



A daisy flower  
is so much more

than humans give us credit for
the very first flowers of Amour

We know we're special
from our birth

our womb is the brown
of our mother earth

our petals grasping for the sky
unfurling   yet we know not why

on whispers of wind
our elders laugh

and a pretty young girl
skips down the path

humming tunes of a love yet to be
upon seeing our petals
she drops to her knees
sweet young thing pretty as you please

our petals stretch out
we are ready for flight

we will catch the wind
to be gone from your sight

it's time say the elders  
to do what you aught

as the pretty girl sings
love me   love me not

Icuduseahugritenow
Icuduseahugritenow
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Wow I like this poem didn't think it when with the theme at first but at the end great

shaunda
shaunda
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thank you. The flower is done by an artist, oh crap, I forgot the name. But The flower is made up of completely naked women. Pretty cool.

poet Anonymous


A FLOWERS POWER
----------
Pale
Pure
Innocence

I
child
Running wild

Find the boy
With the roses
On his cheeks

As he steals
A smile
All the while

Picking daisies
He said, you are a petal
an orchid...

When the southern wind blows
I still hear his voice
Saying that every flower knows

What true beauty is
Magical awakening
Sleeping beauty kiss

Upon a daisy, I wish
Too much, too little, too late
The poppy fields wont wait....


opheliac
opheliac
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I wish I could trust the time you
said it'll take for them to grow long
and beautiful. Only then could I
pluck petal after petal in front
of your weary eyes.

IMAGO
IMAGO
Viwe Lugongolo
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South Africa
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Petty

A pretty flower
What lovely feathers you have
I pluck them into a bunch
Hoping that the bleeding stems
will make your hollow heart grow fonder

EveAteRedApples
EveAteRedApples
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New Zealand
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love me - love me not

how strange it is to kill a flower
for a game of “he loves me – he loves me not”
playing God with the unknown
heart fluttering with the right answer
face scrunching in discontent
at “he loves me not”

so we’ll pick another daisy
and do it all over
hoping for an answer
that is truthless either way
for daisies are just flowers
and don’t hold the power of God
or the ability to tell us
our unknown futures

“he loves me – he loves me not…”

gorryone810
gorryone810
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She loves me

Feeling so light headed and yet so sad.
The burden so heavy as never has had,
nothing has ever felt this way,
It started some days ago and won't go away.

Picking a flower, blooming so nice.
After pulling it out, it slowly dies.
But it serves a purpose, it won't die in vain.
Tell me my future, soothe my pain.

As I'm ripping one petal after the other,
I try that one thing I learned from my mother.
And so I start counting as far as it goes.
"She loves me. She loves me not, oh noes!"

And flower after flower will slowly die
as I am not pleased and need another try.
"She loves me. She loves me even more.
She doesn't love me." My heart feels sore.

In a bed of petals I sit and cry.
Does she love me, and if, so tell me why?
What's so good about me, what can I do?
Will the future that the flower told come true?

Icuduseahugritenow
Icuduseahugritenow
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Thank you all for you submissions

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