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Category Archive for: ‘Creative Writing’

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So,the leaf says to the flower..

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The flower replies,”I am doing what I can, existing beautifully in miniature.I do have to say though that this lawn is the pits.I feel so small compared to the dandelions and even that tall grass over there.These people things,need to take that grass shredder out more often.They don’t have that awful weed decapitator though,so perched up on this tree trunk is a sweet deal over all.”

The leaf say’s quietly, ” Then why so blue? You’re kinda purple by the way, purple is a happy color! A royal one, indeed! “

The flower responds,” I don’t know, I just feel like I’m out here in the open, with my petals splayed out and no one notices. I’ve put all this energy into growing and I’d be lucky if I could hold a honey bee on this scrawny stalk of mine, they don’t even try anymore. Sooner or later some of those people things will come by and yank me out of existence and I’ll just be another dried up weed in that pile over there.”

The leaf responds in concerned silence.

Suddenly the flowers demeanor changes ,” See ! Look ! I told you , a people thing has some other plant killing device in it’s hand,it’s going to crush me underfoot or pluck my petals or some other horrible thing! It’s heading right for us! This is no joking matter, We are pretty attached on here, you’re going out with the garbage with me”

The leaf gets nervous and on seeing the people thing crouch down lovingly before the pair with that big device in it’s hands, the leaf smiles inside and says to the flower.

” I can cannot cure your woes, I can only love you and listen and give you a reprieve from the rain above or grant you shade in the harsh afternoon sunlight and be your companion. I can’t magically turn you into a sunflower, though I wish I could. I can only be present, and here with you eternally. I think this people thing is going to grant us immorality. You see, when it clicks that button I think it captures our likeness.So really,you have a best friend,will always be a part of that human things memory and who knows, maybe she will show us to the world. When the seasons change, we will still be.Not as bad of a deal as you thought it was, huh?

The flower is beaming and replies, “That is completely enough for me.”

The leaf says, ” Now I’d fluff those petals of yours,because this is our big moment ! “

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Gentle Light

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How I am enjoying your perfect curves. Wrapped in gentle light and swelling below, in the darkness,where your soul is found. Where you try hide the things, you just cannot hide from me. For they will be revealed in time, inevitably. Your secrets will come undone, and your true glory will be spilled forth. It is more bountiful than you can ever possibly know. Mesmerized by your fount of growth and captivated in delight, I simply marvel, at your life.

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Infinite Isolation

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Tender in your infinite isolation. Not a sound, for miles around. Delicate and meek, you shudder. As the afternoon breeze comes to caress your yellow petals. Weaving through the forest and the underbrush, invisible currents sweep by you and force a gentle dance, one as old as time itself. Tucked away between the leaves and grasses with the trees rising above you, like giants, they loom. The shadows are cast upon the ground and only dappled rays of light may find you, yet you are the color of sunshine itself. So small and humble, my little wildflower, but I can truly see you. I can only pay homage to your subtle beauty, as we are really, one and the same.

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Wicked Scarlet Ways

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I am righteous screaming beauty, with my wicked scarlet ways. The words that are spoken, you may never hear. They are carried on the wind in a language you may never know. And as my mouth fills with pollen, I choke on its sweetness. Waiting for the toils of time to take their toll, so I may die and come back in the spring, reborn and recharged. Ready to hail the forest floor with my floral call and cloak of carmine charms, once again.

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The crowd draws near.

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The crowd draws near. In the central square of the town of green they wait for him. His weekly addresses are so full of charm and kindness, the townsfolk are held in intense anticipation. They call to him in soft tones, wooing him gently. One villager says,  “Oh please dear One, grace us with your presence and we will be forever indebted.” Just for a glance in their direction, he has flowers thrown at his feet. They gather around him cooing and whispering, dedications of love, like honey pouring from their mouths. Staring rapt at his visage, they toss gold and silver coins all around him in shower of glitter. Worshiping the very ground he walks on. He grins in satisfaction at the warmth and love of his constituency.

All the while, the peasants line the alleyways, cloaked in shadow for the light does not touch them the way is does him. They are sobbing with dry eyes, for their bellies are hungry, their lips are cracked and bleeding because there is no clean water for them to drink. One solitary gold coin would feed them and quench their thirst for a month and yet, they must bear witness to the townsfolk showering the Prince with all manners of finery. His belly is full, and his lips are moist, and their hearts are lost in hopelessness.

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"Midway in the journey of our life • I came to myself in a dark wood • for the straight way was lost" - Dante's Inferno