It’s about time you participated in your own creation (site) again. Thumps up!
This didn’t disappoint either. The vivid details of the colors and their descriptive properties were on point.
Good to see you Sam!

I am bias, pick the red. This is a lovely write Sam.

hello dearest Sam this is damned good my favorite has always been the sunflower something about it’s wild nature ❤️

By design, nature must facilitate sex over and over. Don’t know if plants enjoy it, but us mammals are just wild about it!

give me a sip?

I like that a little witches brew should do. Made me smile.

What a fantastic Halloween temptress poem that gripped me as I read. Playful and seductive and so wickedly dark.

John

Cleverly penned, Brenda. Amazing Halloween write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

Happy Helloween Brenda. This kicks ass! Love the atmosphere you create.

If you could syphon off the witches brew and sell it you’d be a millionaire. It’s a good job, only witches know how to make it.
Great read.
regards
James

I think I’m safe from deathorse for now. You also seem to be safe, given your lack of innocence.
😉

Ooo the reaper. This is menacing.

Powerfully penned, Brenda. Amazing write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

This is mysteriously dark. It captures the power of the night.
Regards
james

I feel this. Know that you are not alone feeling this way. the statement of “I am tired” cut deep. At one point the feeling of it all and feeling that no one gave a damn was so much…let’s just say I would not be here if I did not have someone. We all do not have that “touch stone” person. I do understand.

Absolutely gobsmackingly brilliant,powerful,honest,scary and sad.
When I read this, the only question. I had was why?Why does one keep holding on when there is nothing left to hold on to?
Why,if God exists,would he torture his children?

Why are we even alive?

Take care my friend.The tide can turn quickly and bring you back to shore.🙏

🤗

Tired,, but alive, broken, but the pieces are all there, they fit together, like the way rain brings flowers. Our tears fill the oceans where all life began. And our scars (whether visible or unseen) become the instruments of our music and can be heard in the cosmos. Willow, your poem resonates like violin strings, hauntingly and with grace. Not sure if you see or feel it, but you give us all the strength to continue, to disturb the universe, like pebbles thrown in the pond, creating ripples that go on forever.

I do not know you, Willow, and have only read a few of your poems, but I am happy you are here.

Curt

Powerfully penned, Willow. The armor does get thinner with time I think it’s part of facing mortality. At least that’s part of it anyways. There are layers as I always say, but it’s tiring indeed. Time catches all of us eventually, but our scars lend to wisdom, even those earned by trial and error. That’s what popped in my head anyways. Excellent write my friend, I can relate. Appreciate you.

Damian

You nailed it. Fantastic work. It’s hell to get old.

This is the first piece of yours I have read, but HER suggested you for membership in our new Spoken Word group. I took her at her word, and though I have not heard any audios by you yet, I wanted to take a peek at just some of your words first. If you have audios, I certainly want to hear them, on the strength of the words you have left here, not what someone has told me. This is brilliant work, Willow, tough, strong, gut-wrenching, sad; it touches all the emotions and pulls the reader in. I will read more, and I want to hear what your work SOUNDS like.