By: Kayla Meyers

He loves me, he loves me not
I’m waiting here love, though you seem to have forgot
Plucking the supple petals from a daisy
So delicate, see how they buckle and give so easily

Where are you love? I seem to have forgot
The wilted roses strewn about our path
See how they fall and die so fast
It’s the season of love, the foliage has changed

The trees have grown, love has been forgot
In the dead mulch and tangled weeds I have gotten lost
During the season of love, the world begins to turn
And the forest yearns and it burns

In the wreckage love is forgot
So for restoration and rebirth
I’ll plant the seed and sew the earth
And next season the rain will come
And love will grow and spread around 

AshesofLilith   AshesofLilith wrote
on 5/6/2008 8:36:18 PM
Wonderfully written! I enjoyed this even more than World of Lies.

kayla97068   kayla97068 wrote
on 4/26/2008 4:39:14 PM
I'm glad you enjoy reading, dancipa68, and I hope you stay tuned for more writings!

danicpa68   danicpa68 wrote
on 4/24/2008 6:57:46 PM
I really enjoy reading your poetry.

kayla97068   kayla97068 wrote
on 4/22/2008 2:38:49 PM
Eloquently, beautifully, accurately said! Thank you for your comment.

Israel-Shannon   Israel-Shannon wrote
on 4/22/2008 2:24:45 PM
Poetic veerse feels like coming back home. It is here that lives are changed and molded and weathered to matter again. In the lines of the expression thatmoves to crumble the mountains of doubt, disturbance and grief. Poetry is a tool of language which unites after the storm has tossed and discarded. blessings,

Free Verse
writing kayla97068
There is a balance of life; for every positive there will be a negative, and with every negative soon will come a positive. If you hold on long enough through all the bad, you'll be able to find something wonderful and cherish it all that much more.
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Rating: 10.0/10

During a writer's workshop that I attended we did a poetry exercise that required us to follow a certain formula; write the first stanza (four lines), and then in the subsequent stanzas you had to continually repeat one line from the first stanza. At the time I was going through some issues with love, and this is what came out. Not too bad considering I had only 10 minutes to put it together and was not allowed to edit it.
A Word from the Writer
In my earlier days of writing I penned nothing but poetry, and even though I wander away from it in favor of my works of fiction whenever I come back to prose/poetry it feels like coming home. A piece of me will always be a poet at heart.