Best Dandelion Poems
a cluster of dreams
waiting for a puff of wind -
the freedom to roam
_____________________
A Traditional Haiku Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
At dawn's first blush,
milkweed pods,
burst with a sigh,
A feathery shower of,
silk sending secrets...
on the wind's soft cry.
Yesterday they wore a crown of pink
Today they are set free;
like dandelion dreams floating on the vast sea
a thousand wishes taking flight.
I see you spinning gracefully
on dandelion fluff.
each strand like a
glowing thread
forming a halo.
Your laughter flows like
a babbling
brook over stones.
while your tears resemble mist
clinging to ferns in
the whisping breeze.
As twilight falls and fireflies twinkle
like scattered stars,
a new constellation is born.—
a flickering dance in the dimming light
as transient, as a summer evening.
In your eyes wild irises bloom
reflecting the evening sky as
they search for their fragrance.
Amidst meadowlarks songs
welcoming the dawn in morn.
my heart remains intertwined
with yours like a nurturing vine
that delves into the soil
forever connected to you.
You write the poetry of life
moments full of freedom.
Like a ballet of butterflies
a child experiencing wonder,
both wild and free.
No need,
for preaching!
just the melody of the wind
whispering through
the pine trees.
A communication,
a connection that binds eternally.
With patience engraved
in the face of mountains
I stand as a protector.
a sanctuary in this forests
intricate beauty.
While shadows dance in a transient
vanishing performance
My love stands firm like
a redwood sentinel enduring
all challenges.
In the settling of dusk,
where fireflies sparkle,
My presence is like a meadow
where bluebirds dream.
For you,
my child,
are a hawk,
on the wind's caress.
Soaring on thermals,
a spirit,
etched upon your face.
My heart,
a beacon's steady fire,
guiding,
through the unknown,
In this life's,
choreography,
bathed in your,
boundless exploration.
Mother
Sheltering, strong
Branches rustle tales
Roots grip the earth deep
Child
I am but a weed
In God's flower garden
Humbled to exist
Even if not as red as roses
Not as tall as sun flowers
Not as warm as marigolds
Not as thrilling as lillies
But I am wonderfully and fearfully made
I invite imagination
And like a falling star
Children pick me to
Blow blue breaths wishes upon
And I fly into whimsical wind
To deliver the messages of hopes
I start my journey as gold and then
Turn white just before my flight
A prize in disguise
I am a dandelion.
-Dandelion Dream-
I stand close with a fistful of flowers
My tiny bouquet made of dandelion dreams
They fade with one gush from the wind
I stand close with a fistful of flowers
Holding on tight to jagged leaves
Sprinkles of sand fall over my needs
I stand close with a fistful of flowers
My tiny bouquet made of dandelion dreams
~SKAT~
In a verdant meadow expanse,
A lone dandelion stands,
Trading golden crown
For a halo of fragile wisps.
Sun's affection now distant,
Yet in its fragile state,
An ethereal beauty emerges,
An elder amidst fleeting youth.
Holding a thousand dreams,
Awaiting the gust's embrace,
Whispered tales ready to be shared,
With an ever-changing world.
Silent beacon it remains,
Testament to resilience and phases,
Embracing life's ebb and flow,
In the dance of time and change.
I saw your other flowers sprout,
so bringing charm, I put down roots.
but hating me, you yanked me out.
You fool, I'll just bring more recruits!
Glads and the lilies that grow very tall
Petunia and pansies...I do love them all
My favorites, however, are not really owned
Not found in the garden, but growing alone
Kissed by the sun and tossed by the breeze
Running through clover or wherever they please
Not planned, unintended, still they remain
Untouched by the hoe and watered by rain
Favorites of mine, I picked as a child
These flowers ignored, were born to be wild
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For "Favorite Flower" contest: Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
Recollections waft
across my mind like
wisps of soft white spores -
the vague remnants of
my memory’s threads.
Spring’s sun-gold heads
I now can‘t hold!
But glimpsing them,
I can recall. . ..
a young girl
blowing fluff
and wishing
time would
quickly
pass.
For Brian Strand's
UP TO FIFTEEN any form/any theme max 15 lines Poetry Contest
for Cate Lindsey's What the Hex contest
I rise from the white-wine siesta,
letting go of the serpentine songs,
like a crimson-winged dragonfly
lost in the poppy prairies of Persephone,
untangling my prisoned heart
chained by the churning
deceit of Hades’s immortal chains,
savoring pomegranate promises,
pirouetting through petrichor nirvana,
as the sky smells like a saffron rose
above the castle of emperors
dressed in fallen flowers.
Yet the diamonds sometimes are
engraved with ominous omens
and remorseless remnants,
while I return to cinnamon seclusion,
dancing to the mood of my moon.
O divine dandelion,
in your eyes I see suppressed sighs
of a splintered sunrise,
flickering balmy zephyrs of paradise,
as my soul is tied to the softness
of your delicate dusk~
like a faithful disciple,
forever following your footprints~
while velvety roots of florals
face the glows of alchemy,
amidst the array of arrows,
left as ashes of gold gone cold,
and the gracious gusts of gloaming
devouring the unscrupulous wounds
of a fragranced dawn.
I am the aching pigment
in your palette of purples,
longing for butterfly blurs
to bring me back to a
kingdom of kindness,
where I’ll forever breathe tender lilies
rinsed with wind-swept wishes.
But amidst the clusters of jewels
and raining sakura,
tonight I choose to walk with
specters of scorching stars,
allowing curves of my scarred skin
to burn from the blazing breeze
that bleeds nefarious narratives
upon the bleached borders.
So watch me waltz into the
infernal waters of the deep, bruised bay.
There I’ll write an elegy,
for the sorrow that swallowed your spirit.
I will find an anchor to pull
you back to the land of paper lanterns
as I surrender to the
haunting hues of the horizon;
the sweet sacrifice of a beloved blackbird
singing farewell in silence
to save you from the devilish underworld.
As dandelion dreams
are designed in lucid lies,
carving my essence into wintry wires
of woes and verdicts
from the
growing vines of a
villainous valley.
I feel the blackbird weep, it’s everything
I see the blackbird quiver, it’s what you bring
dreary
d a n d e l i o n
One Proud Yellow Dandelion
Lantanas and pears are lushly in bloom,
Baby chartreuse leaves brighten winter’s late gloom
And one proud yellow dandelion.
We wait for the redbuds – where are you?
There are dark spring clouds under the blue,
And one proud yellow dandelion.
Nandina berries like Christmas late,
Spring cold breezes now sealing their fate,
And one proud yellow dandelion.
Courageously the dandelion stiffly stands,
Knowing it will change, blow like sand,
And mother the earth with new children.
To bloom and fly away.
How easily
the dandelions let go –
the brush of a breeze
sets the seeds free.
They float away,
leaving small scars
on the green body
where they once anchored.
I want to learn
not to cling
to those who must leave
when the time comes,
to watch them drift
towards growth,
the scars a reminder
how much I loved.
From my new collection "The Eden of Perhaps"
star-like seeds disperse
adrift in the air so swift
left alone ~ the moon
~
I sent you a smile
on a dandelion seed,
gently it floated the air
Hoping its touch
would be what you need,
coming from one who did care
And as it danced
close to your heart
while you were drying a tear
Know that it meant
though we are apart,
I will forever be near
~
dandelion fuzz
released into the air
by a wish --
childhood dreams scatter
to places unknown
3/24/15
In a field that is claimed to be wasteland
only fed by the sun and the rain;
its dotted with a sprinkling of yellow
amongst the wild grasses again.
And the manicured lawns of the village
with the roses pruned into shape
will never be found in the wasteland
and don’t have the will to escape.
There’s a man who tenders this wasteland
and the villagers all disagreed
when he argued a case for himself
that the dandelion is not a weed.
Yes, dandelion is a humble herb
that provides us with salad and tea
it has flowers that mirror the sun
and draws in the wild honey bee.
When plants are missed in the harvest
or left for a season to grow
there is cotton like seed parachutes
drifting off as if dandelion snow.
If a parachute lands in a garden
and finally sprouts from its seed
not a villager can be convinced
that the dandelion is not a weed.
Yes, dandelion is a humble herb
that provides us with salad and tea
it has flowers that mirror the sun
and draws in the wild honey bee.
Being rich in mineral content
essential oils, and vitamins too
dandelion is kind to our bodies
a healer growing free to pursue.
As I reap my crop in the wasteland,
and only dig up what I do need
I’m happy I don’t need convincing
that the dandelion is not a weed.