poetry about beauty (Remove filter)
Wild Flowers
In the blue-green meadow
of my silent soul,
scorpion grass -
dormant for decades,
now grows wild and free,
sustaining me,
spreading love
for the aching world
to behold its beauty.
Monday 25th February 2019 3:27 am
Recent Comments
Red Brick Keshner on is it all over, city cat?
2 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on A Book... A Human...
3 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Blink And You Are Dead 👁
5 hours ago
Flyntland on is it all over, city cat?
11 hours ago
TOM MERTON on A Spiker in the works
11 hours ago
Naomi on LAST FARMERS
11 hours ago
Naomi on LAST FARMERS
12 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on is it all over, city cat?
12 hours ago
Martin Elder on LAST FARMERS
12 hours ago
Martin Elder on Of Succubus And Demons
12 hours ago