like fertilizer

i wish i could garden
from my concrete walls.
could i spread my petals
from between window panels?
does thorns pierce
through manmade
as easily as he pierced through my heart?
if heartbreak could be cultivated
and harvested,
spritzed with pesticides
and doused in the misery-
mist of polluted lies and
boys who swear they know
what they are doing,
would my tomatoes taste as ripe?
flowers lift and carry an important
weight on their stems.
and resilient through
the times, through
the splashes of blood
of resurrections,
through the dank of
and the blights that
comes from the hidden
depth of my mind;
will my garden grow
from the fifth floor?
ropes of metal
stand before me and nature;
why do we build houses
out of the earth’s core?
don’t they know steel
courses through me;
but we fear robotics
and change yet we embrace
the earth’s gift
as easily as he took my heart,
crumpled it, and sprinkled it
over my garden like fertilizer.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


Break the silence. End the violence.

Flash 365

"Oh! Take a shit, read a story" - My Mother on Flash Fiction

Free to express

thoughts, experiences, travel, feelings, stories, diaries and many more...

The Lonely Reader

Books, Short Stories, and Poetry

Writer To Writers

Creative Writing Ideas And Writing Prompts

The Wandering Broski

Travel Blog - Europe and the USA

Love Travelling

Travel diaries providing inspiration for fellow travellers


Welcome to my world that I created with my imagination & emotions

Rajiv Chopra

A Gypsy, Bismillah & Esmerelda The Spider Sit With Yama At The Vaitarna

School of Dreams

A school to show you that your dreams are real and teach you how to live them

A Poet's Pen

Before the story is forgotten, etch the words into a work of permanence.

J. A. Allen

Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins


"2 Thousand"

Mental Health & Black Womanhood

Glam Meets Girl

Irish Based Fashion & Beauty Blog

she's a seeker

It's never too late to seek.


There's no place like home.

%d bloggers like this: