By Elli Paionidou
You strive to cling on to the baton
of integrity, like some heroic runner.
On the barren hill your sage…
of integrity, like some heroic runner.
On the barren hill your sage…
Explore Poems: Trees & Flowers
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- By Elli PaionidouYou carved into the smooth skin
the unexaggerated fable of your life.
Your fruit, like sunlight’s summons… - By Hannah LoweShe smells it in the earth, whenever it rains.
Call it anamu or guine, mal pouri.
I see her boiling the… - By Elli PaionidouWe want your company in peaceful moments
but you drop your cones at dusk
like little stones on hunted … - By Hannah LoweOr call it black shoe or call it china rose—
commonly steeped for cough, bronchitis, fever.
I see her… - By Elli PaionidouΣε ϑέλουμε να συντϱοϕεύεις τις στιγμές της γαλήνης
μα εσυ ϱίχνεις πετϱαδάϰια τους ϰαϱπούς σου
στα ϰατσ… - By Elli PaionidouΤο παραμύθι της ζωής σου
το χάραξες χωρίς εξάρσεις στο λείο φλοιό.
Σαν ήλιου κάλεσμα στην αμμουδιά, ο … - By Elli PaionidouΑγωνίζεσαι, σαν ηϱωιϰός δϱομέας,
να ϰϱατήσεις τη σϰυτάλη της αξιοπϱέπειας.
Στις γυμνές ανηϕοϱιές σοϕός… - By Carey SalernoI watched the first weeds burgeon and decided this was the summer
I wouldn’t stop them, every inch of … - By Nicole GonzalezIn the morning the flower
petal wakes up,
the flower petal yawns and
stretches,
the flower petal goes… - By Nicole GonzalezAbínígo ch’iłbaa hózhóní
ch’ínádzi’,
Bí ch’ilátahózhóón nídiich’ah
dóó ádík’as,
Tłeé’go ch’łbaahózhóní
ná… - By Emily DickinsonWe should not mind so small a flower
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the … - By Janiru LiyanageOur neighbor’s orange tree is in full bloom fat and overgrown and spilling
sun-bright fists over our… - By SapphoI myself in summer hours wove together flowers
- By Paul Laurence DunbarAs a quiet little seedling
Lay within its darksome bed,
To itself it fell a-talking,
And this is what… - By Jericho BrownAster. Nasturtium. Delphinium. We thought
Fingers in dirt meant it was our dirt, learning
Names in heat… - By Mei-mei Berssenbrugge1
A path through the woods winds along a stream that flows into the ocean.
I look up at new leaves on … - By Suzanne S. RancourtI can remember my father bringing home spruce gum.
He worked in the woods and filled his pockets
with … - By Emily Wilsonstripped batting of cloud
glimpsed ligaments
dusk coming up under
lithographic, nib-hatchings
instruments…