Her white dress was dotted with three-dimensional daises that moved as she did. The dress was entirely white, even the daisies, and she stood there rather angelic-looking as she prepared for her first communion.
My mother’s favourite. They were at every birthday, every Christmas, every anniversary. Beautiful and safe, I loved them too. Then they were at her funeral. No roses. No lilies. No orchids. Just daisies. I’m disgusted with myself for now loathing something we once shared.
The flower peddles fell upon my head as the wind blew them from the trees. The blossoms filled the air with the sweetest smell. A calmness fell over me and I sat quietly meditating.
One day I was walking my dog in the park and he stopped. the masked what is it spot? Then he ran ibehind a bush and he began torun through the flowers.
I rub my toes in the dirt, and there are daisies between my toes. My hair is long and soft and golden, and I look up at the brilliant blue sky. The summer air holds me up like a friend’s arms. The part of my that I left behind last night is… quiet. It’s okay. My feet are bare and the day is soft and greeting me with abandon.
I wear a daisy crown,
Put a daisy in my mouth.
All hail the daisies dead; bruised till brown.
Rise again? What is this? Color of my eyes: do we match yet, are we long lost twins? I dream we fall through clouds. Miracoulsly land in a field. Techincolor gold: my hand and your hand – they struggle to be bold. Such a long way down. Strung up like kites in clouds; askew like broken limbs now. Panting. Heaving. Spreading. Outwards towards the sky: sunning. Are we one my long lost kin? I feel you like a shaft of light burrowing deeper, deeper in.
Daisies are the flowers of my choice. it is beautiful to look at and yet is subtle in nature. The design is unique to itself and the fragrance is unmatched. What sets it apart is its unique colour
in the garden. Garden of daisies. White and flowery. Wheat. Summertime. You sat atop of your car and looked at the horizon and closed your eyes. It’s a good day, I thought, I never wanted it to end.
The next day after I cut my hair short because we had a big fight, I wore a shirt with daisies on it. I looked fat on that shirt, but I was with you and that alone is enough to make feel better.
Pushing up daisies..
That’s the way we used to say it..
That’s how it stung less than to call it…
Death, they left, they passed away, they’re gone
Moved on… There’s nothing left of them
Just ash, just debts you pay in cash
They’re pushing up daisies and dollar signs…
Buy life insurance people… if you love your family.. I’m so high.. on life…
And death…
Surely it’s already been a minute right? Oh, there is the entry form..
Tiny little flowers line the path that stretches out before him, separating Walter from the rest of society that lay beyond the border wall ahead. He liked it there, beyond the wall. The grass always seemed greener… the fruit sweeter, somehow. He relished the opportunity to explore the almost foreign landscape, knowing full well it was a privilege only granted to select citizens.
daises from your hair,
dazed from the smoke in your lungs,
days that i didn’t feel your near me,
nothing good comes from happiness,
but these daises will be a glimpse of your presence,
fringed at the seams,
these daises will hide.
oh how pretty those petal are. such a simple little flower can bring on such a smile, such memories. it can turn a bad day into a good one with just one glance. daises!
I love to look at the daisies in the garden. They are very pretty and have white pedals and a yellow center. I love to pick daisies everyday for my basket!
Daisies are beautiful white flowers with big centers that attract your attention and your nose for a smell. They run in packs and cover the landscape with their big petals begging you to come and pick them and take them home.
a field. of course. there couldn’t be anything else. they’re so pure and white. but that’s racist, right? we can’t just equate white with pure when everything black is bad. blackguard. black cats. darkness.
Daisies. I never much cared for them. Or any flower. But then he gave them to me and I swear I had never seen anything more beautiful. Maybe they were just a reflection of him.
You are in a meadow filled with daisies. The birds are chirping all around you. You close your eyes and can feel the sunlight warm your eyelids when you feel him. He grabs your hand and you turn and look and feel at home.
Jamie loved daisies. Her grandmother grew daisies every summer and they reminded her of the fun times she had at her grandparents house. She would help her grandmother bake and garden.
The last time I saw him he was pushing up daisies. Maybe in our waking lives I should have closed the gap. Reached out a little more often. But to be honest, I didn’t mind the lack of communication. It was natural. It was comfortable because he never made feel at ease. Or maybe he was never at ease around me. Wish I could better explain how it made me feel suppressed. But now that he’s at rest, maybe I can visit a little more often. I didn’t hate him. Quite the opposite. ‘Tis a pity the strangeness of this arrangement.
in a field of daisies
all summer gold
in the setting sun
and silver in the dusk
i close my eyes
but imagine they’re open
and imagine its morning
a late evening brand of lust
We came to the conclusion that everything was equivalent to them, every one of us was them, every one of them was them. It is unfair to us, but is so much unfairer to them. They can’t stop being and they won’t help you.
The meadow was full of fresh white daisies, the smell of fragrant pollen and nectar flowing through the air, and bees gathering what they needed to survive.
Daisies for the brave, daisies for the coward.
Daisies for your day you spent in front of your computer, merging work and free time.
Yes, you fucking deserve daisies for it.
She gave me daisies, hastily wrapped and barely a bouquet. She was a little girl, of course. Innocent, clean, pure. Completely oblivious to the world. She gave me daisies.
She picked a bouquet of daisies from the ditch on the side of the road. He sat in the car, antsy, waiting for her to return. It seemed she was always coming up with ways to procrastinate, no matter what they were doing. But this time, he understood.
Her white dress was dotted with three-dimensional daises that moved as she did. The dress was entirely white, even the daisies, and she stood there rather angelic-looking as she prepared for her first communion.
My mother’s favourite. They were at every birthday, every Christmas, every anniversary. Beautiful and safe, I loved them too. Then they were at her funeral. No roses. No lilies. No orchids. Just daisies. I’m disgusted with myself for now loathing something we once shared.
The flower peddles fell upon my head as the wind blew them from the trees. The blossoms filled the air with the sweetest smell. A calmness fell over me and I sat quietly meditating.
The wind blew the daisy filled field in slow motion. I stood there. Hair blowing sideways, breathing in the smell of fresh grass and flowers.
One day I was walking my dog in the park and he stopped. the masked what is it spot? Then he ran ibehind a bush and he began torun through the flowers.
I rub my toes in the dirt, and there are daisies between my toes. My hair is long and soft and golden, and I look up at the brilliant blue sky. The summer air holds me up like a friend’s arms. The part of my that I left behind last night is… quiet. It’s okay. My feet are bare and the day is soft and greeting me with abandon.
I wear a daisy crown,
Put a daisy in my mouth.
All hail the daisies dead; bruised till brown.
Rise again? What is this? Color of my eyes: do we match yet, are we long lost twins? I dream we fall through clouds. Miracoulsly land in a field. Techincolor gold: my hand and your hand – they struggle to be bold. Such a long way down. Strung up like kites in clouds; askew like broken limbs now. Panting. Heaving. Spreading. Outwards towards the sky: sunning. Are we one my long lost kin? I feel you like a shaft of light burrowing deeper, deeper in.
Like daisies you pushed me,
but from six feet above.
I didn’t know what to hold onto,
only facing push and shove.
You didn’t know the how to keep,
and only showed partial love.
Daisies are the flowers of my choice. it is beautiful to look at and yet is subtle in nature. The design is unique to itself and the fragrance is unmatched. What sets it apart is its unique colour
in the garden. Garden of daisies. White and flowery. Wheat. Summertime. You sat atop of your car and looked at the horizon and closed your eyes. It’s a good day, I thought, I never wanted it to end.
The next day after I cut my hair short because we had a big fight, I wore a shirt with daisies on it. I looked fat on that shirt, but I was with you and that alone is enough to make feel better.
Pushing up daisies..
That’s the way we used to say it..
That’s how it stung less than to call it…
Death, they left, they passed away, they’re gone
Moved on… There’s nothing left of them
Just ash, just debts you pay in cash
They’re pushing up daisies and dollar signs…
Buy life insurance people… if you love your family.. I’m so high.. on life…
And death…
Surely it’s already been a minute right? Oh, there is the entry form..
Tiny little flowers line the path that stretches out before him, separating Walter from the rest of society that lay beyond the border wall ahead. He liked it there, beyond the wall. The grass always seemed greener… the fruit sweeter, somehow. He relished the opportunity to explore the almost foreign landscape, knowing full well it was a privilege only granted to select citizens.
daises from your hair,
dazed from the smoke in your lungs,
days that i didn’t feel your near me,
nothing good comes from happiness,
but these daises will be a glimpse of your presence,
fringed at the seams,
these daises will hide.
oh how pretty those petal are. such a simple little flower can bring on such a smile, such memories. it can turn a bad day into a good one with just one glance. daises!
I love to look at the daisies in the garden. They are very pretty and have white pedals and a yellow center. I love to pick daisies everyday for my basket!
Daisies are beautiful white flowers with big centers that attract your attention and your nose for a smell. They run in packs and cover the landscape with their big petals begging you to come and pick them and take them home.
a field. of course. there couldn’t be anything else. they’re so pure and white. but that’s racist, right? we can’t just equate white with pure when everything black is bad. blackguard. black cats. darkness.
Daisies. I never much cared for them. Or any flower. But then he gave them to me and I swear I had never seen anything more beautiful. Maybe they were just a reflection of him.
You are in a meadow filled with daisies. The birds are chirping all around you. You close your eyes and can feel the sunlight warm your eyelids when you feel him. He grabs your hand and you turn and look and feel at home.
daisies are pretty cool and smell gooooooooooooooooooooood
Jamie loved daisies. Her grandmother grew daisies every summer and they reminded her of the fun times she had at her grandparents house. She would help her grandmother bake and garden.
The last time I saw him he was pushing up daisies. Maybe in our waking lives I should have closed the gap. Reached out a little more often. But to be honest, I didn’t mind the lack of communication. It was natural. It was comfortable because he never made feel at ease. Or maybe he was never at ease around me. Wish I could better explain how it made me feel suppressed. But now that he’s at rest, maybe I can visit a little more often. I didn’t hate him. Quite the opposite. ‘Tis a pity the strangeness of this arrangement.
in a field of daisies
all summer gold
in the setting sun
and silver in the dusk
i close my eyes
but imagine they’re open
and imagine its morning
a late evening brand of lust
We came to the conclusion that everything was equivalent to them, every one of us was them, every one of them was them. It is unfair to us, but is so much unfairer to them. They can’t stop being and they won’t help you.
The meadow was full of fresh white daisies, the smell of fragrant pollen and nectar flowing through the air, and bees gathering what they needed to survive.
I love daisies it i my prefer flawer but the re is only in spring
Daisies for the brave, daisies for the coward.
Daisies for your day you spent in front of your computer, merging work and free time.
Yes, you fucking deserve daisies for it.
She gave me daisies, hastily wrapped and barely a bouquet. She was a little girl, of course. Innocent, clean, pure. Completely oblivious to the world. She gave me daisies.
She gave me the world.
She picked a bouquet of daisies from the ditch on the side of the road. He sat in the car, antsy, waiting for her to return. It seemed she was always coming up with ways to procrastinate, no matter what they were doing. But this time, he understood.