Your Poetry Dot Com

Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!

Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+

Custom Search


Welcome !	Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link	01-June 11:33:09 AEST

Menu

· Our eBay Store

· Error Submit

Poetry

· Submit Poetry

· Least Read Poems

· Members Listing

· Old Site Post 2001

· Old Site Pre 2001

· Poetry Archive

· Public Domain Poetry

Stories

· Stories (NEW ! )

· Submit Story

· Story Topics

· Stories Archive

· Story Search

Community

· Our Poetry Forums

· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

Site Help

· FAQ

· Feedback

Members Areas

· Your Account

· Members Journals

· Premium Sign-Up

Premium Section

· Special Section

· Premium Poems

· Premium Submit

· Premium Search

· Premium Archive

· Premium Topics

Fun & Games

· Jokes

· Bubble Puzzle

· Cross Word Easy

· Word Hunt

Reference

· Dictionary (Rhyming)

· Site Updates

· Special Content

Search

Top

Help This Site

· Donations

Others

· Moderators

Our Other Sites

· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

Social

Array ( [sid] => 12511 [catid] => 1 [aid] => Mick [title] => Where the Wildflower Dances [time] => 2003-02-12 21:40:00 [hometext] => [bodytext] => The white picket fence was open today,
when she had kept it closed,
I called for her, but only my echo returned,
the meadow was empty,
my heart stood at a standstill,
where had she gone, I wondered,
the bench only bare a blanket,
in which kept her warm at night,
I know the feeling, to well,
So I walked the roads now,
feeling a cold wind,
then I saw her,
she was standing near the bar,
talking to a stranger,
that forbidden bar,
her hands were shaking,
because she was so hungry,
he saw that in her,
and offered her food,
she gladly excepted, but hardly ate,
because she had gone without it for so long,
I looked at her, and her eyes glared back,
like she was in a foggy daze,
she had starved for so long,
and she nearly fell into that strangers arms,
I knew her well, she was part of me,
she was a spitting image of my yesteryear,
He gave her food, and offered to take her in,
but that voice kept coming back,
that echo of where she had once lived,
but he was a good man,
an angel in the morning light,
there to help,
she soon found he was not there to hurt her,
and I watched,
her voice I could hear,
soft, tender and young,
the voice of a sweet tender sixteen year old,
she never cried,
I don't think she had the power to,
she was to weak,
and I watched her through the fog,
that cloud was still inbetween us,
she came back to the meadow,
and slept on the bench,
for what seemed hours,
when she finally awoke,
she handed me a token,
a part of her,
half her dreams and half her sorrows,
grief, I already had for her,
and she knew,
I was finally making headway,
for the first time,
I saw her smile,
it seems like a year since I had seen that,
and she let me hold her,
I needed to, and she needed me,
she told of her dreams,
her innocent heartbreaks,
the peace she finally felt,
because of a stranger,
the token was half of her,
and she knew I needed it,
because together we were woven into one,
she was after-all my reflection,
she was I, and I was she,
I made headway today,
wrapped her in my arms,
that child thrown to the road as trash,
do I know her,
I sure do,
I tasted her tears, as they ran aimlessly from her cheeks,
we sobbed that day,
I remember .....,
that day she grew strong,
nothing else mattered,
I was there with her,
holding her once again,
as the white picket fence was shaded by the willow,
and the wildflower danced in the wind,
she belonged to me,
and I to her,
we met with a token,
unconditional love,
she was half-way to finding a reason,
in this god-given world,
where hatred often takes love,
Life had a new meaning,
soon I knew I would see her dance,
her token, I cannot return,
because she is me,
her blood is mine,
and mine hers,
the young child in the infinity cloud,
she sits on the bench,
where solitude heartbreaks should have been,
and I kissed her,
because she was my yesteryear,
in the meadow where the wildflowers grew,
and the willow shaded her pain,
and the tiny small toad she called Prince,
sat by her feet, on the ground of mother earth,
where she will learn to overcome the wounds that lay on her heart,
and bear the many trials, on the road of life,
without her, I could not be,
but I look back because thats where it all began,
where the wildflowers dance
and the white picket fence keeps her safe!

[comments] => 4 [counter] => 170 [topic] => 48 [informant] => Valerie_Pearson [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 14 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )

Where the Wildflower Dances

Contributed by Valerie_Pearson on Wednesday, 12th February 2003 @ 09:40:00 PM in AEST
Topic: EmotionalPoetry

The white picket fence was open today,
when she had kept it closed,
I called for her, but only my echo returned,
the meadow was empty,
my heart stood at a standstill,
where had she gone, I wondered,
the bench only bare a blanket,
in which kept her warm at night,
I know the feeling, to well,
So I walked the roads now,
feeling a cold wind,
then I saw her,
she was standing near the bar,
talking to a stranger,
that forbidden bar,
her hands were shaking,
because she was so hungry,
he saw that in her,
and offered her food,
she gladly excepted, but hardly ate,
because she had gone without it for so long,
I looked at her, and her eyes glared back,
like she was in a foggy daze,
she had starved for so long,
and she nearly fell into that strangers arms,
I knew her well, she was part of me,
she was a spitting image of my yesteryear,
He gave her food, and offered to take her in,
but that voice kept coming back,
that echo of where she had once lived,
but he was a good man,
an angel in the morning light,
there to help,
she soon found he was not there to hurt her,
and I watched,
her voice I could hear,
soft, tender and young,
the voice of a sweet tender sixteen year old,
she never cried,
I don't think she had the power to,
she was to weak,
and I watched her through the fog,
that cloud was still inbetween us,
she came back to the meadow,
and slept on the bench,
for what seemed hours,
when she finally awoke,
she handed me a token,
a part of her,
half her dreams and half her sorrows,
grief, I already had for her,
and she knew,
I was finally making headway,
for the first time,
I saw her smile,
it seems like a year since I had seen that,
and she let me hold her,
I needed to, and she needed me,
she told of her dreams,
her innocent heartbreaks,
the peace she finally felt,
because of a stranger,
the token was half of her,
and she knew I needed it,
because together we were woven into one,
she was after-all my reflection,
she was I, and I was she,
I made headway today,
wrapped her in my arms,
that child thrown to the road as trash,
do I know her,
I sure do,
I tasted her tears, as they ran aimlessly from her cheeks,
we sobbed that day,
I remember .....,
that day she grew strong,
nothing else mattered,
I was there with her,
holding her once again,
as the white picket fence was shaded by the willow,
and the wildflower danced in the wind,
she belonged to me,
and I to her,
we met with a token,
unconditional love,
she was half-way to finding a reason,
in this god-given world,
where hatred often takes love,
Life had a new meaning,
soon I knew I would see her dance,
her token, I cannot return,
because she is me,
her blood is mine,
and mine hers,
the young child in the infinity cloud,
she sits on the bench,
where solitude heartbreaks should have been,
and I kissed her,
because she was my yesteryear,
in the meadow where the wildflowers grew,
and the willow shaded her pain,
and the tiny small toad she called Prince,
sat by her feet, on the ground of mother earth,
where she will learn to overcome the wounds that lay on her heart,
and bear the many trials, on the road of life,
without her, I could not be,
but I look back because thats where it all began,
where the wildflowers dance
and the white picket fence keeps her safe!

Copyright © Valerie_Pearson ... [ 2003-02-12 21:40:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

Advertisments:

Previous Posted Poem | | Next Posted Poem

Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more

All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.

Re: Where the Wildflower Dances (User Rating: 1 )
by LOWMAN613 on Thursday, 13th February 2003 @ 10:31:53 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Val,truly a beautiful peice,to those yesteryears!
Another great write to this saga! So much went into this! Nicely done,Christina

Re: Where the Wildflower Dances (User Rating: 1 )
by LadyDama on Thursday, 13th February 2003 @ 01:50:37 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

i am so impressed with the passion and feeling that goes into these poems of yesteryears... they are truly a gift...

Re: Where the Wildflower Dances (User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on Thursday, 13th February 2003 @ 09:46:46 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

this is my favorite one of all, so beautiful, it has a smile in it sure enough...huggs n' love always nessa

Re: Where the Wildflower Dances (User Rating: 1 )
by sunflower on Wednesday, 19th February 2003 @ 10:02:55 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

outstanding!
full of heart and emotion

While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com