Dendrite Poems | Examples

adjectives ooze like black blood

words tiptoe through my mind’s dendrite fields
struggling with an inner battle
do they want to be shared
or merely heard by someone?

adjectives ooze like black blood
under the shut doors of my brain
I feel outnumbered and overpowered
my pen smiles as I reach for him

David the Dendrite

David the Dendrite (it means Tree-Dweller)

how the people loved this eccentric fellow

for three years he lived in a tree

yes he was the saint of Thessaloniki




(real title is written in the Greek alphabet but oh no you can't use 'special characters')

Coleridge Had it Right

Wailing for her demon lover, Coleridge had it right
A masterful poet, his words are ominous, not light.
Did he have his own sweet love? Was she a secret too?
Gothic ideas of mystery swirl around my brain in blue.

Coleridge was a master; his work keeps me on the edge.
His imagery on the brink of pushing me just shy of off the ledge.
Is she a figment of Coleridge’s imagination, or does his own maiden exist?
If she is a married woman, will they never find a bliss or share a kiss?

A secret Coleridge has kept, in a dark, dank, dour place.
His poetry so wonderful, I smile when I see a likeness of his face.
Samuel T. Coleridge, a master whose poetry delights my dendrite stream.
Sometimes his powerful stanzas float into my Gothic current dream.

Dibble Dwarf

Dibble dwarf was not as bright as his clan
He lived by his wits, but they were not so grand
His dendrite highway was tiny and short at best
He sat on a steed that needed a lot of rest

Why is he riding a snail? Asked many of his kin.
Dibble dwarf was in a race, with no chance of a win
He was born with no gray matter, said his sister Kit
Dibble dwarf sat on the snail, not moving a bit.

Forget Age and Experience

Mental prowess has zip to do with age or experience
Some people’s buckets are cups.
Their dendrite strains are much shorter than others.
I have met six-year-olds who are wizards.
Being raised by a teaspoon for brain.

snowflake shapes

Star shaped, seriously sassy
Nodding needle-nosed, light chassis
Capped column, looking conniving
Irregular yet interesting without striving
Decidedly diabolically dendrite-dated
Practically perfect, placidly plated
Snowflakes have six points or six sides
Depending on moisture in clouds and temp outside

mine is a lively lunacy

Mine is a lively lunacy
at three am
the witching hour

full moon insanity
infecting empaths
magic madness

I lie awake
my ideals walking in harmony
down a dendrite highway of fantasy

trying to jump off my dendrite track

Jumping might be my favorite word
or frolicking, prancing, dancing
anyway, it’s something with an ing ending
I can assure you of that

I get sick of throwing down the same words
feeling redundant and trite once again
I have no idea how to freshen my mind up
to spin things around to other words

what about words with d endings?
placid; lucid, horrid, morbid.
I see why these won’t work.
Still I try to jump off my dendrite track.

to get away from my blaring mediocrity.
To no avail, for every blank sheet of paper
is yelling for me to throw down jumping or dancing
and so I do, and so I do.

choosing one thing

I can only wave it once so I have to envision the results
entice my flowers, highlight my house or eliminate faults?
My imagination has ideas that go up into the air
blowing smoke in my mind, without any worry or care.

the ideas are swirling around my dendrite-filled brain.
I always wanted a pterodactyl, and a pink whooping crane.
My own fire engine was another one of my little dreams.
Waving a wand once is not easy it seems.

World peace? How would I know? How long would it last?
Could I go back into my mistakes, travel back into my past?
Could I visit heaven and speak with my mother again?
The ideas are endless, quiver is the state of my chin.

I will have to have more time, I know that now of course.
Black Beauty was gorgeous, do I need a unicorn horse?
the faeries are gathering, to watch me make my mind think.
I finally wave my wand and give myself a new granite sink.

dendrite building brain

imagination
possibilities
idealism
investigation
evaluation

exploration
analysis
mindful madness
dendrite builder

predictions
assumptions
risk taking

probing
thinking

brain

encouraging a child

she took a child
who had been shut down by negativity
and reopened her dendrite highway
encouraging her to remember life
when she thought joy was a possibility
the child who had been afraid to tiptoe to the edge
was now able to kick off and fly into outer space

I Think I Shall Write Faerie Tales

I think I shall write tales for children Christian Anderson said.
Visions of bears, wolves, tigers, roses, and lilies danced through his head.
Sorting them out took an imagination that was rather wild.
He put them into sections – fierce, humble, happy and mild.

The main characters were full of personality beyond his control.
He saw a peacock, dragon, goldfish, opossum and one lying mole.
Plots thick and simple travelled down his dendrite alley.
He began to select names like Furious Phil and Sallow Sill Sally.

The more his imagination was on fire, the happier he became.
Writing the stories down was his ultimate end game.
He was chuckling to himself as he wrote down the story line.
Wow! Said his impressed wife. Your words are so fine!

clunky chunky words

clunky chunky unfamiliar words
not easily understood due to their tweets and pops
shoving themselves against my dendrite highway
hidden yet acutely felt
dancing the brain Watusi 
I wonder if I will ever write again

Mrs Shelly Is Having Difficulty

Ms. Shelly began to write.
Scratched it out.
Began again.
The lights are on, but no one is home.
Scribble Scribble

His dendrite field is nonexistent.
Scratch. Scratch.
She kept writing and scratching
What could she write on this child’s report card?

The Greatest Adventure of All

no physical adventure
can hope to compare
to the adventure of imagination
verdent green vines of ideas
lurk deep in the recess of my dendrite highways
waiting to surprise me

• Short Dendrite Poems
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