DaisiesDaisies are weeds. No-one plants them. No-one really wants them. But there they are, poking their sunny little faces up through your lawn and smiling at you. They open in daytime, and they shut at night, when no-one seems to be around to see them.Daisies2 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Some people try to get rid of the daisies, push them back into the soil where there's no sunshine. The mow them down constantly, but no amount of mowing will ever get them out. They will always come back eventually.
Some people tolerate them, but don't really like them. They just choose to ignore them, occasionally stepping on them because their thoughts are elsewhere.
Children love the daisies. They pick them and bunch them and loop them into long pretty chains to crown themselves kings and queens of the garden. They don't mind that they're weeds.
I wish more people would look at all the daisies and think, "Wow. Look at these beautiful flowers the grass has planted for me. Look at their delicate petals and their sunny, powdery centres.
Light PollutionI'm sick and tired of these blank slateLight Pollution4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
cityscape skies. These blinding lies
that black truth out are branding themselves in the whites of my eyes. Rows of sodium suns
casting light on the rat race and cancelling space's soft touch with their
sharp rays. I remember the days when we lay gazing up at the Milky Way's paint-splatter array
of perfect stars. The whole night was ours.
Now the air screeches in static voices, sound of engines and gearbox joysticks
rushing around from A to B. Trapped in the wings that they think set them free.
When I look up at night, I want a thousand lights
of hopes and dreams that sing through my blood
in oceans and streams, unfiltered and shining through you and through I
as we stand on the roof tiles and breathe in the sky.
Grant me forgiveness but spare me your grace, the whole of our heavens is bleak, blank space.