A lonely magnolia in a vase on the windowsill. Grandmother was somewhere in the other room, yet I couldn’t help that fatalistic part of my brain to remember this image of a harbinger of the loneliness to come when she’s no longer with us.
I was pressing a magnolia leaf into my leaf book which already had a lot of leafs.
thisGuy :)
Magnolia trees aren’t that big so they wouldn’t be good for shading people. But they do have bigger leaves than normal so that could be good.
thisGuy :)
The magnolia tree was very greenish with specklings of yellow. My grandparents owned at least 5 of them.
thisGuy :)
Aluminium magnolias. What if every flower, every tree, every blade of grass, emanates music in a frequency that we can’t quite hear? Our ears can’t detect it but something else in us can, something that doesn’t have a name. The suede of the petals at a fingertip’s touch. There is something inherently sensual about flowers, which is probably why I believe they sing a silent music. You can’t have one without another. You can’t have sunrise without morning glories.
Jen
Bloviate. She bent over the handle of the shovel, blonde bangs clumping in the sweat and foundation on her pudgy, small-eyed face. The sleeves of her summer dress bulged at the shoulders, shadows forming in the sweaty patches beneath her arms and her grandiose, ballooning breasts. Her lips – rimmed with bright pink lipstick clinging stubbornly to the corners of her mouth – moved fast to force out the endless words. My gaze and thoughts drifted from her sharp, spittle-edged words to the poor half-dug magnolias, lying forgotten by the shovel blade at her feet.
My magnolia tree has begun to do well. It brought it’s first blooms this year. Situated at the east side of my property, it was planted by the previous owner. But even though it has begun to do better, i would prefer to replace it with a citrus tree.
It reminds me of that movie, steel magnolias. only who would want a flower made of steel. unless it’s an analogy for that which appears to be delicate, but which is actually unbreakable. Magnolias are breakable – extremely so.
Jess
magnolia is a very strong smelling flower with whit petals and a yellow thing in the center of the flower
Meghan
I asked for a sign, I guess this was it.
Or perhaps I’m reading too deep into the lines and just connected the uncorrelated dots anyway.
M
My heart stilled so quickly yesterday. If any machines had been attached to me, they would have either seen my madness surface or an absolute flatline. I forgot to breathe in your presence. I forgot to think in your presence. I forgot to formulate sentences in your presence – more than that – words.
I stood like a fool, awkwardly asking questions that didn’t matter, talking about the mundane things while my heart pounded away in my chest, my soul yearning to recognise something.
Again, maybe the dots weren’t related at all.
I do not know how to stand around you: where my hands should be, how my shoulders should roll. I do not know how to look at you: where my gaze should land, which excruciatingly perfect part of you to not focus on. I do not know how to speak to you: what words could possibly come out of this fumbling fool to be worthy enough for your attention.
her locks were a bright color of magnolia yellow and they’d shine along with the sun and it would make her smile as soft and angelic. that moment seemed to last a lifetime and now in these dark sheets of a mundane room, I’m longing to feel that again.
A lonely magnolia in a vase on the windowsill. Grandmother was somewhere in the other room, yet I couldn’t help that fatalistic part of my brain to remember this image of a harbinger of the loneliness to come when she’s no longer with us.
I was pressing a magnolia leaf into my leaf book which already had a lot of leafs.
Magnolia trees aren’t that big so they wouldn’t be good for shading people. But they do have bigger leaves than normal so that could be good.
The magnolia tree was very greenish with specklings of yellow. My grandparents owned at least 5 of them.
Aluminium magnolias. What if every flower, every tree, every blade of grass, emanates music in a frequency that we can’t quite hear? Our ears can’t detect it but something else in us can, something that doesn’t have a name. The suede of the petals at a fingertip’s touch. There is something inherently sensual about flowers, which is probably why I believe they sing a silent music. You can’t have one without another. You can’t have sunrise without morning glories.
Bloviate. She bent over the handle of the shovel, blonde bangs clumping in the sweat and foundation on her pudgy, small-eyed face. The sleeves of her summer dress bulged at the shoulders, shadows forming in the sweaty patches beneath her arms and her grandiose, ballooning breasts. Her lips – rimmed with bright pink lipstick clinging stubbornly to the corners of her mouth – moved fast to force out the endless words. My gaze and thoughts drifted from her sharp, spittle-edged words to the poor half-dug magnolias, lying forgotten by the shovel blade at her feet.
My magnolia tree has begun to do well. It brought it’s first blooms this year. Situated at the east side of my property, it was planted by the previous owner. But even though it has begun to do better, i would prefer to replace it with a citrus tree.
It reminds me of that movie, steel magnolias. only who would want a flower made of steel. unless it’s an analogy for that which appears to be delicate, but which is actually unbreakable. Magnolias are breakable – extremely so.
magnolia is a very strong smelling flower with whit petals and a yellow thing in the center of the flower
I asked for a sign, I guess this was it.
Or perhaps I’m reading too deep into the lines and just connected the uncorrelated dots anyway.
M
My heart stilled so quickly yesterday. If any machines had been attached to me, they would have either seen my madness surface or an absolute flatline. I forgot to breathe in your presence. I forgot to think in your presence. I forgot to formulate sentences in your presence – more than that – words.
I stood like a fool, awkwardly asking questions that didn’t matter, talking about the mundane things while my heart pounded away in my chest, my soul yearning to recognise something.
Again, maybe the dots weren’t related at all.
I do not know how to stand around you: where my hands should be, how my shoulders should roll. I do not know how to look at you: where my gaze should land, which excruciatingly perfect part of you to not focus on. I do not know how to speak to you: what words could possibly come out of this fumbling fool to be worthy enough for your attention.
I thought I knew all I wanted.
her locks were a bright color of magnolia yellow and they’d shine along with the sun and it would make her smile as soft and angelic. that moment seemed to last a lifetime and now in these dark sheets of a mundane room, I’m longing to feel that again.