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Flower Stories

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The Witness

What did you witness today?

The Witness (Raanana, January 14, 2018) What did you witness today? Was it exceptional or was it like every other day? What was it about the day you found exceptional? Would you have preferred it last forever or Would you have preferred it never were? Was it lovely beyond words or Was the pain more than you could take? Did you want to die? Was there a tree involved? What kind of tree? Tall or scraggly? Straight or bent? D...

The Great Big Flower

The flower who grows a family

Once upon a time, there was a great big flower, she had survived terrible droughts and floods. But now, wanted to plant her own seeds in the planting season. She planted her first seed. She kept it close so she could shade it and shelter it as it grew. The seed grew to be a beautiful flower. She was dainty and very close with the great big flower. The dainty flower became a great mother flower herself, spreading her seeds...

The Honeybee

The other side of the truth

Among all the beautiful flowers In the garden of dream land A wildflower... raw one Was hiding in the shades of green. It was me... all alone. Bees were flying by Stinky and clever eye Glistering in dirty greed Scared, buried myself Inside the shell of long sharp thorns Forbidding them to get cozier. A sudden wave of fresh air Passed through me  Confused... I opened up petals You flew by me Made me experience sunshine aga...

Anonymous

Flower Queen

A random Poem for someone

I fly by, looking around Searching for the best one You were hiding, in those green shades Your beauty mesmerizes every one Many found you But none dared to near you The thorns are long, sharp enough to free a soul The smell of your beauty lingers in the air Enchanting everyone Killing them sweetly I dared to touch you Least cared about the thorns Bleeding, bruised, I come before you You smile looking at me The pain vanis...

About a flower

A dear friend challenged me to write about a specific flower. Here goes...

Witch's thimbles, Dead man's bells Sound like words from ancient spells Bloody fingers, Lady's glove Witches tend to like the stuff Fairy fingers, Fairy caps Things from fairytales perhaps Everywhere an other name Yet they all speak of the same Fairies love them, 's often said And like to use them as a hat Ointments, once by witches made Could make you hallucinate It can heal or death induce Even the doctor knows its use...

My flowers

Pics of Flowers

This poem is inspired by KayI Love taking pics of flower small flowers big flowerred flowersyellow flowerspink flowers and many other colored flowersI take them formy lady friends most of all for my love I take them all the time when I am golfing when I am shopping when I am on vacation when I am out aboutI take them because I see the beauty of my friends in them I see my love in themI send one flower to one friendnever t...

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Whence wiggled you, Squirmy Wormy?Did you crawl through sunless hallsOf earthen elven making?Did you wiggle and slimy jiggleThrough giants' homes, a-shaking?Whence wiggled you, Squirmy Wormy?Did you see the moles, with glee,As you wandered through their ensuite?Did you meet and happily greetThe centipede and his feet?Whence wigg...

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The Lightning Thunder Theory of Light Dark Matter

In a realm of religion, 2 great Gods sit down speak their minds of the universe.

The Lightning & Thunder Theory of Light & Dark Matter Zeus, Greek God of Lightning, & Thor, Norse God of Thunder, meet in the Heavens for Earths greatest herbs & for the discussion of what helps us see & what holds the world up..Light & Dark Matter! "Like ripples of a splash in a body of water, sound waves travel becoming more distorted the farther it travels yet fading like a light. As this cannot be stated as a fact bec...

Under the Full Moon

From leaf to beautiful flower...

The brilliance of it shines pale grey-white like a seagull's feathers in the sea of black inky oil, giving her the only light there was. The leaves in hues of red and shades of brown, yellows and oranges as vibrant as a stoplight and as dim as the mucky slime that they call baby food. They fall, floating gracefully down to the ground from their uppermost perch in the city's version of a forest canopy. As a baby-food-orang...