Long Dandelion Poems
Long Dandelion Poems. Below are the most popular long Dandelion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dandelion poems by poem length and keyword.
Can I borrow your smile for a while?
'cos I'm so happy to see YOU smile!
Here are some things in my smile-a-while-pile
A wagging puppy tail rattling on the wall
A pussy cat with walking-stick tail up tall
Dandelion flower seeds puffed into the air
Blowing out candles, one-two-three, puff!
The wink and glint of eyes looking my way
The pop of popcorn popping in the pot
Skipping and hopping on way to playground park
The whee and glee of the slippy-dip slide
The hanging-out twirl on round-about rides
The pitter-patter rattle tap of rain on glass
The twit, chat, twerp of birds calling at dawn
The smell of bread straight from the oven
Walking hand-in-hand, arms swinging to-and-fro
Singing along to my favorite song with you
Watching a rainbow reach for its pot of gold
Crumpets and honey, hot chocolate and sweets
Hearing funny stories read, or told to me
I smile when YOU smile - so Come On!
Make me smile!
Spring is sprung.
Clouds of maple.
Skies of pine.
Red in green.
Serviceberry understory.
Spring is sprung.
Skunk cabbage spathe.
Black birch sap.
Poplar flowers.
Opossum tires.
Spring is sprung.
Blackbird wing.
Wasps won’t sting.
My father died.
Town meeting Monday.
Spring is sprung.
Sing cuccu!
There’s no down side.
Infinite willow.
Leaning oak.
Spring is sprung.
Budding flame.
Budding thumb.
Cat claw.
Bird yolk.
Spring is sprung.
Dandelion
Shoots. Arrowhead
Roots. Waterproof
Boots. Old bed young.
Spring is sprung.
Ring and wrong.
Thank and thought.
Seed and sawn.
Wait and walk.
Spring is sprung.
Two Freaks
Two freaks sat by the side of the road.
Ostracized by all their kin.
People laughed as they passed by;
At the very sight of them.
One was twisted in body and soul;
With hair like a dandelion.
The other sat quoting sonnets of old;
He was quite diseased of mind.
One had hands that were crooked and gnarled.
The other the face of a child.
One ate grass like the beast that he was;
and murmured and groaned and growled.
The other put violets in his hair;
And swore to be good and kind.
To Pray to God and remember those;
Society left behind.
He quoted Longfellow, Shakespeare too,
Matthew, Luke and Paul.
The other wallowed in the mud.
And didn't care at all.
And so they lived by the side of the road;
With so much valor and poise.
One fool making love to life.
The other making noise.
Then came a day when folks didn't laugh.
They came with ropes and guns.
And did what seems and awful thing,
But a thing that had to be done.
For in this weird, unhappy world;
It is a sin to sing.
They murdered the gentle poet,
And crowned the Monster king.
"It does not matter how others see you; what makes all the difference is how you see yourself" - by poet
To say that I am "flawed" is just an "illusion."
I may seem "imperfect," but you only see my "facade."
To most, I look "torn" and "broken." To those who look
deep enough, they will see a ferocious lion. Some have
even called me dandy. I am strong! I am resilient! You called me a nasty weed. Then I dazzled you with my bright smile.
I took off the "mask" and pushed myself up through the concrete. I "cracked" the barrier meant to keep me down.
You see just a puny weed. I see a strong, beautiful flower.
I am Mighty. I am a Dandelion.
A diesel generator
drowns out the rusted Marshall stack
Six years we owned
the Billboard charts;
the DJ who crowned us
every summer
for five straight years—
this week, a county fair;
tonight, the Music Pier.
The drummer tapes two split fingers
closes his hand once
hard—
then rests the sticks
by Mick’s ashes
in a Folgers Black Silk can behind the kit
Tommy’s gold sequins
snag on his dialysis catheter
as he sits
Johnnie the P-bassist drags a stool onstage
to ease his neuropathy
We are crushed elderberries
hawking CDs from a card table,
bleeding a dark, tart stain
onto ninety aluminum chairs
No teenagers weep;
a man wipes funnel-cake grease
from his chin
As I tune the cherry-red '57 Stratocaster
down a minor third,
hoarse from pushing air
through a throat scraped thick
with scar tissue
We were a dense, golden field
beneath the studio lights
on Midnight Special
Now plucked dandelion crowns
scatter over Ferris wheel blacktop,
leaving white ghost-tufts
snagged in the Music Pier’s
boardwalk planks
Where just three bald stems
plug into the seaside damp—
and the seeds drift past the shoreline,
washed up,
vanishing into the deep
we used to call home
It grows and grows....
On private lawns and in the wild, it shows
It smiles at the sun before the day begins
And it winks when it catches a cool wind
Through the storm and rain, it grows
Its place and purpose on Earth, God knows
It drinks from Mother Nature's nourishing cup
It stays and stands strong in the sun as it gazes up
-- AIN'T LYIN' --
Often stepped on, pulled, and sprayed, but never dismayed, like a lion it comes roaring back
Back like it never left, just like that
In early spring, bees and butterflies compete to be in the same space
Just a buzzing and fluttering with energy apace
But man, oh man, he comes to cut, pull, and spray without delay
In his feigned egoistic genius, he doesn't realize it was meant to stay
-- AIN'T LYIN' --
Plentiful food and medicine for man to consume
But he sweeps it away like a hand with a broom....
From its deep roots to its green leafy tips
It heals, nourishes, and strengthens; only truth comes from these lips
Long live the dandelion,
I Ain't Lyin'
Most would be aware of many a herbal tea
Now select: lemon grass, liquorice, dandelion or nettle, peppermint and jasmine
Perhaps there exists one that does not evoke familiarity
Chose some seeds, a trailing legume, when matured
provides the soil with a welcome nitrogenous fix
For diversity of colour, height or width
many other seeds are added to the mix
Now this leguminous unfamiliar plant , common name, butterfly pea
exudes several properties when it is fully grown
Flowers for a herbal tea, when dried, utilised as a food dye
the whole plant edible, the uses for many years in Asia have been known
Revered in India, regarded as a sacred plant, ward off negativity
add resilience, wisdom and divine feminine power
Much more than just a legume
feeling blessed to be cultivating this beautiful creeping flower
Add to fascination, these flowers behave like litmus paper
when petals are soaked, pure water becomes an alkaline colour blue
Add some lemon juice
and the blue will change to an acidic reddish hue
Once again must continue to write about this flower
with colour, such a brilliant blue, a bit similar to the chia
And such distinctive SHAPE !!! gives rise, may make a woman smile
to its botanical name: CLITORIA ternatea
I’m blowing on you, pretty dandelion
Making a wish with every breathe
Pity your life is really short, then death.
I Blow on you again soft dandelion
As I watch a breath taking sunset,
The sun slipping quickly away, unreal,
The golden atmosphere surrounding us
Looks like a fairy tale, magical, surreal
Blowing again, but fear your end
As your sensuous feathery fluff
Will soon disperse,
Your beauty of downy tufts
Lasts for but a while,
And then becomes obverse.
Mesmerized I blow once more,
You float away, could you be shy,
Or maybe sad, for soon you’ll die
I blow, your soft fluff, it floats up high
Such a shame you’ll, be no more,
For your seeds and tufts are nearly gone
To your bare and centre core.
Although known as a mere weed,
Your heritage is the daisy flower
Your destiny, to spread your seed.
Far and wide you will travel dear friend,
The joy you’ll give is huge,
Although Henry, our Great Dane
Our almost human pooch,
Followed you far too close
And got your seedy fluff inside his nose,
He sniffs and incessantly wheezes
Have to take him to the vet,
As he can’t control, his sneezes!
My pen rights my sins
I can admit my faults
Time and time again
Writing finds me when lost
That’s the fun of it
To lose myself in my pages
If dark then find me lit
By the enchanting words and phrases
I’m embarrassed to admit
Often I don’t think at all
Pink pen seems to vomit
And journal catches it raw
You can read my mahogany mind
Running rabid in the nighttime
Perhaps the best time to create
And escape the world and fate
Music is poetry with sound
Universal is it language like love
Turning smiles from frowns
Perhaps creating turquoise trust
So when I’m at a loss
At my wits end as they say
Music or poetry a toss
To come whisk me to safe place
meander through the my day in a similar way
strolling along with no worries or hurries
listening to Willie, and Don’t Worry, Be Happy
of course I am, for there is no goal.
No urgency, no need to open my eyes
I lie on the ground, soaking up nothingness
philosophy is for others, here is my dandelion
squandering the minutes because they are infinite
But the mirror woman laughs at me
And shingles comes and destroys my nerve endings
And now I am on pills, and my teeth are falling out
I have turned into an old fat creepy thing
I have always hated old people so I get up off the ground
And try to dance, but my bones are brittle and I fall apart
Piece by piece, I turn into dust. I guess it was too late.