Beautiful and grow in the most unusual places making it even more pretty and rare. One would always wish to be a wild flower rather than be one grown in a garden only to be plucked to adorn a vase in a room with air conditioning and no fresh air and blue sky.
padma
She strangley beautiful. Only to the creative eye. Like a seemingly ugly wildflower, from a distance it may not seem beautful but once you get close you see how intracit and truly amazing it is.
Sydni
a field of flowers grow. A woman walks gently swaying back and forth through the patches of wildflowers. She singing, humming a sweet melody. hummingbird-like.
Leilah
I can’t wait to bomb some dondogos! I once had a pet named stretch, he was a dachshund. Should I be elected king of the eleventh dimension, I would rule with an iron fist of death.
Stephen
People will not tell you that I’d never bring you a fistful of flowers, but they’ll tell you i’ve fucked like they never kissed lonely on the mouth.
Every fieldflower around here is broken, and i hate it so much. I want more than this less-than, more than the weight of this not enough. I want home, not this tired excuse.
R
There it was, the wildflower dancing freely in the wind. Careless as the soft supple wind washed over it, brining with it the scent of Spring. In the distance the sun began to poke through the ever expanceing horizion. A picturecs painting…but really a ground for war.
Mikey.
baby i’m a wildflower
grown away from the bushes
takin’ my own path
choosin’ my own route
come follow me
and be with me
i’m wild and free
no roots to hold me down
i’m alone in the world
no obligations, no commitements,
i’m wild and free
goldmedalribbon
phlox beside the railroad tracks pretty bouquets for Mama when I was a little girl. I don’t know if they still grow there, or not. I remember going to the fishing hole with Grandpa and Grandma Walker. The mud was sticky and kind of gray. We had lots of fun running around and getting our feet stuck in it. T
Kathleen Redman
Your heart, racing along with mine. are we nothing more then wildflowers? in essence it’s the prettiest of all. But just two beats keeping at bay with each other. neither better then the other.
Just simply to halves of one whole. But with the non conventional beauty.. would our eyes be able to handle it. would our hearts be able to take it in? every fragrance. every touch. It’s all counted for something. or is this just a forever losing game?
Taisia
they’re beautiful. I love how colorful they are and how they can grow without human nurture. The Texas highways are littlered with them and I love spring just for that reason. I wish I could get around to taking pictures in them. I love flowers.
katie
Flowers that are wild, they grow and they are pretty, um, so yea this one time I found a flower so I gave to to my girlfriend, and she asked where I got it, and I said in the forest but really I found it in a planter pot at the bust terminal, I thought it would be a nice gift, it was, but later we went to the bus terminal together and she figured it out.
Flowers smell good, bu tthey can have bugs.
RT smith
what is it that makes a flower wild? people domesticate flowers that are supposed to be wild all the time but they are still considered wild I would hope that its not that easy to domestcate something. i would hate to think i could be domesticated so easily
lk
wildflowers are beautiful and unrestrained. When I was a kid we picked wildflowers for mother’s table and gave them as gifts. My camp counselor would yell at us for picking wildflowers because we were destroying nature. I think wildflowers are so beautiful because there are a piece of art that is finite therefore more precious.
Laura
Daisy gone bad,
can’t live by your rules.
She left the patch and never looked
back. Clutching her leaves
around the waist of a biker-weed
laughing, her petals blow in the wind as they go faster, faster, faster.
Ellecee
It was a beautiful day, as I walked the hiking path that was surrounded by blue, yellow, red, and orange wildflowers. They smelled so good, and looked so beautiful.
Matt Foster
wildflowers are beautiful. get some seeds and sprinkle them in the pristine suburban lawns, it takes away from the monotony and adds some unexpected beauty. do it in empty lots, by the side of the highway, in city planter boxes, etc.
leah
Wildflower, somewhat of a field immediately comes to mind, though rather unoriginal. My ex girlfriend could be described as a wildflower, not the type to be easily understood or read. Thorny, resilient, and beautiful/artsy.
Edward Boylan
there are wildflowers that seem to me to only grow near the house my cousins lived in long ago. Or maybe they still live there. But that particular house feels long ago, or maybe far away. A different time and therefore a different place. I think of the way I used to see the world, and that way is gone. The grass is less green. And I don’t notice the flowers as much. The purple and blue and yellow. Instead I see directions, and destinations, and everything I feel like I have to do.
Mark
fields of em. taking pictures in em. probably filled with bugs, which is sad, or something. probably serves me right, me thinking they’re gonna be all cute and cleanly and everything.
shani
Flowers are a very interesting thing in nature. If you think of flowers as a gift, they are great, as just decoration too.What I really love about flowers is their smell, most of them smell pretty good, such as roses.
Ramon
fields and streams. Blue sky. Yellow rippling hills. Grass, green as anything could be. trails. trees. gardens. home.
D.S.
a wild flower. windowless seems to fall around the legs of the tree. the tree loves the wildflower. It dies every now and then but its okay because it returns to where it came from. wildflowers are everywhere. wildflowers are part of everything. everything is part of everything. And you are a wildflower too.
marigold
Sunflower. Gosh so beautiful. Daisys. Sunshine. No allergies. Yellow, red, green, white. Bugs. Sun. This sucks. Tattoo. That’s all I’ve got.
Mandi
She looked upon the field with a bright smile. The wildflowers swayed in the wind. There were many colors, like a finely woven blanket from a foreign land. Orange and yellow and red dotted the field. She lay in their midst and watched the white clouds float by as the summer day faded to night.
Marie
a girl is like a wild flower, young and free. beautiful and fragile. the soul is wild, but her tongue is tame.
kayla
flowers that grow in meadows.
dawn
love fields of color, the wind blowing and the flowers and grasses waving. blue skies and clouds peaceful moments. Kids bringing me flowers in jars. So sweet a memory. Having to dump rotten flowers so they wont be stinky its all part of the process.
anne
I scratched his lower buttocks with my purple nails and threw my head back as he whispered in my ear: wildflower.
M Surrey
Running through the field of wildflowers, I could smell the pollen floating in the air. Feel the sun beating upon the earth, warming the ground – the air. I loved the view of the mountains in the distance, the maple trees surrounding the field. And my favorite part – not a sound of civilized life.
*BING BING*
Time to wake up.
Andrew Jovanovic
as i walked through the fields i could feel the wildflowers tickling my shins and tempting the hem of my floral skirt. i swept through the lush coverings and made my walk to a little cottage i had spotted in the distance. it was quaint to be sure, but what mysteries could lie hidden in this boarded up home of antiquity?
jeans
She’s like a flower in the middle of the field. The only one. Sitting in the middle of somewhere she doesn’t and shouldn’t belong, but she’s alright and she knows it. The wind is holding her still.
Dana
blowing in the breeze. it’s beautiful. so gentle, so loving. i look at it and long to see more. it’s lonely in a forest full of green, but yet it stands out. it’s shines in the sea of green. i love it.
karrissa
I think when I die, I want my ashes to be strewn like the wildflowers……
Gloria
You’re brilliant, boy. You’re wandering, as I watched from across the field. Together we’re fading into autumn. I want to turn back, sit in your car, forget. But I see you, walking, trying to find what’s beyond, what comes next. I float with the wind back over to you, next to where the wildflowers grow in bunches.
Kaleena
wildflower sitting alone in an open field. where have the others gone. they’re not to be found above in the blue nor can they be seen dancing on the horizon. perhaps there has been an evacuation of the wildflower kind towards a wildflower place of safety and this lone pupil has refused to conform
andy worlff
yellow yellow yellow green yellow yellow green brown field
something dawned inside me then, a sort of whisper like a yellow shadow waiting to fall asleep. And I wonder if we are ever that free, a small tuft of nothing, dancing in the breeze, a quick shaded color often seen too late, or maybe too soon. I can dance too you know.
Ariana
As the wildflower grows in the middle of my garden, I begin to wonder if it is just mere chance, or if it holds some deeper meaning. I have worked in this garden for 10 years, not once has an invader like this dared set root. In most cases I would pick the flower and call it good, something however told me not to. Upon reaching for the flower’s stem, my mind went numb, my vision blurred, and my knees began to buckle.
Beautiful and grow in the most unusual places making it even more pretty and rare. One would always wish to be a wild flower rather than be one grown in a garden only to be plucked to adorn a vase in a room with air conditioning and no fresh air and blue sky.
She strangley beautiful. Only to the creative eye. Like a seemingly ugly wildflower, from a distance it may not seem beautful but once you get close you see how intracit and truly amazing it is.
a field of flowers grow. A woman walks gently swaying back and forth through the patches of wildflowers. She singing, humming a sweet melody. hummingbird-like.
I can’t wait to bomb some dondogos! I once had a pet named stretch, he was a dachshund. Should I be elected king of the eleventh dimension, I would rule with an iron fist of death.
People will not tell you that I’d never bring you a fistful of flowers, but they’ll tell you i’ve fucked like they never kissed lonely on the mouth.
Every fieldflower around here is broken, and i hate it so much. I want more than this less-than, more than the weight of this not enough. I want home, not this tired excuse.
There it was, the wildflower dancing freely in the wind. Careless as the soft supple wind washed over it, brining with it the scent of Spring. In the distance the sun began to poke through the ever expanceing horizion. A picturecs painting…but really a ground for war.
baby i’m a wildflower
grown away from the bushes
takin’ my own path
choosin’ my own route
come follow me
and be with me
i’m wild and free
no roots to hold me down
i’m alone in the world
no obligations, no commitements,
i’m wild and free
phlox beside the railroad tracks pretty bouquets for Mama when I was a little girl. I don’t know if they still grow there, or not. I remember going to the fishing hole with Grandpa and Grandma Walker. The mud was sticky and kind of gray. We had lots of fun running around and getting our feet stuck in it. T
Your heart, racing along with mine. are we nothing more then wildflowers? in essence it’s the prettiest of all. But just two beats keeping at bay with each other. neither better then the other.
Just simply to halves of one whole. But with the non conventional beauty.. would our eyes be able to handle it. would our hearts be able to take it in? every fragrance. every touch. It’s all counted for something. or is this just a forever losing game?
they’re beautiful. I love how colorful they are and how they can grow without human nurture. The Texas highways are littlered with them and I love spring just for that reason. I wish I could get around to taking pictures in them. I love flowers.
Flowers that are wild, they grow and they are pretty, um, so yea this one time I found a flower so I gave to to my girlfriend, and she asked where I got it, and I said in the forest but really I found it in a planter pot at the bust terminal, I thought it would be a nice gift, it was, but later we went to the bus terminal together and she figured it out.
Flowers smell good, bu tthey can have bugs.
what is it that makes a flower wild? people domesticate flowers that are supposed to be wild all the time but they are still considered wild I would hope that its not that easy to domestcate something. i would hate to think i could be domesticated so easily
wildflowers are beautiful and unrestrained. When I was a kid we picked wildflowers for mother’s table and gave them as gifts. My camp counselor would yell at us for picking wildflowers because we were destroying nature. I think wildflowers are so beautiful because there are a piece of art that is finite therefore more precious.
Daisy gone bad,
can’t live by your rules.
She left the patch and never looked
back. Clutching her leaves
around the waist of a biker-weed
laughing, her petals blow in the wind as they go faster, faster, faster.
It was a beautiful day, as I walked the hiking path that was surrounded by blue, yellow, red, and orange wildflowers. They smelled so good, and looked so beautiful.
wildflowers are beautiful. get some seeds and sprinkle them in the pristine suburban lawns, it takes away from the monotony and adds some unexpected beauty. do it in empty lots, by the side of the highway, in city planter boxes, etc.
Wildflower, somewhat of a field immediately comes to mind, though rather unoriginal. My ex girlfriend could be described as a wildflower, not the type to be easily understood or read. Thorny, resilient, and beautiful/artsy.
there are wildflowers that seem to me to only grow near the house my cousins lived in long ago. Or maybe they still live there. But that particular house feels long ago, or maybe far away. A different time and therefore a different place. I think of the way I used to see the world, and that way is gone. The grass is less green. And I don’t notice the flowers as much. The purple and blue and yellow. Instead I see directions, and destinations, and everything I feel like I have to do.
fields of em. taking pictures in em. probably filled with bugs, which is sad, or something. probably serves me right, me thinking they’re gonna be all cute and cleanly and everything.
Flowers are a very interesting thing in nature. If you think of flowers as a gift, they are great, as just decoration too.What I really love about flowers is their smell, most of them smell pretty good, such as roses.
fields and streams. Blue sky. Yellow rippling hills. Grass, green as anything could be. trails. trees. gardens. home.
a wild flower. windowless seems to fall around the legs of the tree. the tree loves the wildflower. It dies every now and then but its okay because it returns to where it came from. wildflowers are everywhere. wildflowers are part of everything. everything is part of everything. And you are a wildflower too.
Sunflower. Gosh so beautiful. Daisys. Sunshine. No allergies. Yellow, red, green, white. Bugs. Sun. This sucks. Tattoo. That’s all I’ve got.
She looked upon the field with a bright smile. The wildflowers swayed in the wind. There were many colors, like a finely woven blanket from a foreign land. Orange and yellow and red dotted the field. She lay in their midst and watched the white clouds float by as the summer day faded to night.
a girl is like a wild flower, young and free. beautiful and fragile. the soul is wild, but her tongue is tame.
flowers that grow in meadows.
love fields of color, the wind blowing and the flowers and grasses waving. blue skies and clouds peaceful moments. Kids bringing me flowers in jars. So sweet a memory. Having to dump rotten flowers so they wont be stinky its all part of the process.
I scratched his lower buttocks with my purple nails and threw my head back as he whispered in my ear: wildflower.
Running through the field of wildflowers, I could smell the pollen floating in the air. Feel the sun beating upon the earth, warming the ground – the air. I loved the view of the mountains in the distance, the maple trees surrounding the field. And my favorite part – not a sound of civilized life.
*BING BING*
Time to wake up.
as i walked through the fields i could feel the wildflowers tickling my shins and tempting the hem of my floral skirt. i swept through the lush coverings and made my walk to a little cottage i had spotted in the distance. it was quaint to be sure, but what mysteries could lie hidden in this boarded up home of antiquity?
She’s like a flower in the middle of the field. The only one. Sitting in the middle of somewhere she doesn’t and shouldn’t belong, but she’s alright and she knows it. The wind is holding her still.
blowing in the breeze. it’s beautiful. so gentle, so loving. i look at it and long to see more. it’s lonely in a forest full of green, but yet it stands out. it’s shines in the sea of green. i love it.
I think when I die, I want my ashes to be strewn like the wildflowers……
You’re brilliant, boy. You’re wandering, as I watched from across the field. Together we’re fading into autumn. I want to turn back, sit in your car, forget. But I see you, walking, trying to find what’s beyond, what comes next. I float with the wind back over to you, next to where the wildflowers grow in bunches.
wildflower sitting alone in an open field. where have the others gone. they’re not to be found above in the blue nor can they be seen dancing on the horizon. perhaps there has been an evacuation of the wildflower kind towards a wildflower place of safety and this lone pupil has refused to conform
yellow yellow yellow green yellow yellow green brown field
wildflower
beautiful, graceful, amazing, sexy, natural, loving, simple, sensual, colorful, tiny,
something dawned inside me then, a sort of whisper like a yellow shadow waiting to fall asleep. And I wonder if we are ever that free, a small tuft of nothing, dancing in the breeze, a quick shaded color often seen too late, or maybe too soon. I can dance too you know.
As the wildflower grows in the middle of my garden, I begin to wonder if it is just mere chance, or if it holds some deeper meaning. I have worked in this garden for 10 years, not once has an invader like this dared set root. In most cases I would pick the flower and call it good, something however told me not to. Upon reaching for the flower’s stem, my mind went numb, my vision blurred, and my knees began to buckle.