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.
Another lost noon,
engraved as unforgettable
memoirs within my mind,
I’m rethinking of rewriting
and rewinding revoked
reflections of a love rekindled.
My eager heart
is now hanging in the void,
yearning to swirl
through desert dunes
to exhale one more
dandelion dream
in the same air as you,
where quill and paper
were no longer needed.
For times that I
was inking
meaningless phrases,
were buried
deep down under,
as you were softly
scribbling dewy verses
of desires upon
my desolated skin,
rescuing darkness
with starving sincerity,
illuminating and hydrating
my urges with
prolific praising,
moulding every
imperfection of mine
into an abstract art,
naming them
with prismatic gems
on the night of confession,
beneath a sky full of stars
that were burning.
I’m now left with no
adjectives to alliterate,
how this sunflower
soul’s cry bloomed
within your
healing embrace,
where hailing
emotions were eased;
I knew then,
that’s where
I’ve for so long
wanted to belong.
The whirling gusts of
greedy gardenias
may say
roses aren’t fragrant,
but why am I yearning
to be the Juliet rose
in your graceful garden,
where petals glow
like rainbow-hued stardust,
I’m on a virtual venture,
wishing I had
Aladdin’s vintage lamp;
to grant me my
dose of you and I.
If only I could ride
above Arabian valleys;
on an amethyst
magic carpet,
stitched with
crystalline crescent sequins.
If only you could feel,
I’ve been dreaming
of daisy meadows
and dahlia lawns,
where memories
are fatal,
pushing me into a
labyrinth of
mourning magnolias,
searching for
balanced brightness,
although you
still wander
through a
foreign land~
faraway from “us”.
I hear your wings
adorned with
orchestric ornaments
ascending into
the celestial fields,
leaving me in an
astral connection,
with a jar of memories,
where I still keep
falling for you,
time and time again,
as you are my
beginning and ending,
the amorous poet
that wouldn’t
take love for granted~
like the pirates of
this heart-shaped odyssey.
And I shall forever be reliving
the fabulous February,
spent in your golden presence;
although, days together
were somewhat short
and nights were long,
we will rephrase this romance
relentlessly
into an everlasting love story.
sensory grass
tickles your toes
soft pokes
every word is a stroke
of a blade
not a brush
a lawnmower in the distance
breaks the silence
what the hell…
the smell of fresh-cut grass
and the moisture
that lingers on its smell
you know…retains it
(like the soft and cushy handprint that
stays in the grass
in the shady part of that corner in the yard
turns the white shoes green
amongst the hedges and the borders by rocks
by that long-ago planted snowball tree
and all the love you had to give while you planted it
…rubbed the lamb's ear,
said a prayer and wished it the best of luck)
but here, now
take a nap in the sunshine
under a clouded sky peacefully
on a blanket
the winds brushing by
the rays beam through
and warm that blanket
your worn-out blanket
with scents of lingering past summers
of far-off beaches and sunscreen
dusty and musty
yet beloved blanket
(different kinds of loved-upon)
but here, now
the breeze on my toes
and the breeze on the grass
and the breeze on my face and my hair
stealing my woes
keeping me cool
my eyelashes flicker
a lazy dream of greens upon blues
upon dandelion yellows
shining
until you awake
slightly alarmed
to a busy bee
buzzing by
blinded by beauty
my tears trickle down the corners of my eyes
bleed down my cheeks to my lips and taste salty
warm and salty on my tongue
warm from the gold
of that hot-blooded sun
and the sensory experience
grateful to be alive
to soak it all in
through the skin
can you feel it?
it was a lovely dream
the smell of sweet grass
how bits and pieces float on air
tickle the nose
sweet and bitter tasty on the tongue
whisking away depression blight
peace rises
higher and higher
like barometric pressure
elevating mood and lighter weight
reflecting on purpose
reflecting on mood
through transcendence
but here, now
you can just
be
tingling sensations
just
be
feeling overcome with peaceful power
power to
just
lie
still
and enjoy the senses and dreams
that the grass brings forth
you’ll wake up
remember details
and reflect upon paper
close your eyes
and reflect upon paper
an outward pour
can’t you feel it all beaming in the sunlight?
in the mood
in the barometric pressure
in those blades of grass
breathtaking striking
blades of green grass
my god, aren’t we blessed
—American writer
Song Lyrics II
***
We Come Together, Holding Hands (I)
by Michael R. Burch
We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.
We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.
The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.
We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.
We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.
Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
***
We Come Together, Holding Hands (II)
by Michael R. Burch
We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.
We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.
Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.
The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.
Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.
We sing together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.
We sing together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We sing together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.
Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
***
i wrote a giddy little song
by michael r. burch
i wrote a giddy little song,
which u can dance to, all night long;
i wrote a giddy little poem,
it’ll tempt a smile, like sea foam;
i wrote a giddy little line,
it’ll tease a laugh, like a dandelion;
I wrote a song and took the trouble,
it’ll make u smile, like a soap bubble;
i wrote this giddy bit of fluff,
now dance to it, get off ur duff!
Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: song, songs, lyric, lyrics, music, peace, brother, brotherhood, sister, sisterhood, holding hands, together, friend, friendship
When you call me a beast, when you spit venom..
How can i love you? No: i shall die.
I saw your ships and people waiting for us;
so i waited too.
But my heart, my heart of all hearts,
did not like the sight of you, and went home
with no expectations, with the ghosts of all
your love boats gone; my heart of all hearts
will not believe.
The sun you showed me never rose again.
i am sad.
He puts himself in his little chair to read and leaves
to rejoin the hot sweat of the earth.
i saw him.
And he put his little eyes upon me.
i asked him to read my story.
i said i am writing it for you.
He took off his glasses.
Now i see that he is not a prince but a monkey.
His legs are crooked.
And his eyebrows are three sizes too big.
And his hair is black and white; his eyes are bright
yellow and red; and so the purple moustache and
the blue flowers that grow from his finger tips;
flesh he must peel with his fingers
or his teeth.
Oh, he said. (he says) You should not be afraid to write a story.
Writing is a little like being raped.
There is one girl in every house
and one girl in every room
and one girl in every
and one girl in the cubicle
of the toilet; and they are all my victims.
She does not want to be my victim;
but she is being my victim.
What is rape?
You think it is to carry a lock of hair.
What is rape?
When the pain of living is so strong
that there is no room for love.
Or they take away the most beautiful birds,
the creatures that fly and the animals with wings,
but leave the things that have no life,
like a spider or a fly or a dandelion,
to carry its seeds into the street
(she is my lover) to be eaten by rats and lice,
to live it is life in the straw of the morning air.
What is rape?
To take away the kisses, the eyes, the mouth,
the tenderness of your cheeks, the tiny lips,
to rape your body when your love is not in it.
I did not know this love, but now it is my burden
and it is my fault.
This is the meaning of its life in the straw of the morning air.
What is rape? To take away the kisses, the eyes, the mouth,
the tenderness of your cheeks, the tiny lips, to rape your body
when your love is not in it.
I did not know this love, but now it is my burden
and it is my fault.
This is the meaning of Life within flesh.
:: 01.19.2021 ::
A little black coal sitting upon God’s office desk
basking under the Light of God
writing down my thoughts and dreams
wishing to be more than what I am
God’s ink is black as obsidian
His pen of an arch angel’s feather
and as God goes about his work
I pray to God and talk about my stories with Him
of all of the adventures and desires that I wish to take on
God would listen, through His Spirit He would speak
but I wanted more of everything
I didn’t know as a coal what it meant to be a diamond
how my fantasy transformed into reality would be
the pressures involved in the metamorphosis
the lost and the change and transposition
didn’t really grasp what it took to be a diamond
yet I wanted to be more than what I was/am
to know who I will become and be
God picked me up and tossed me back into the world
from his Sherlock Holmes like office to reality
where with each pressure, my soul became more diamond than coal
with each suffering, I shined more like a galaxy
but I also felt impatient and wanted to be at the end already
even though all of what I asked has yet to be
Things were simple upon God’s Desk
where I basked and dreamed in perfect harmony
dreaming dreams that didn’t suffer from reality
that didn’t clash with everything
Everything has changed and I worry about cracks that could appear
from all of the pressure and stresses and worries
needing to deny myself to become this new version I asked for
The emotions like fire devouring inside
anger and frustration and madness
where I’m conflicted and afflicted and wonder
What is God up too…
Evil thoughts would spring into mind
like dandelion seeds from demons somehow finding me
trying to claw their way inside
Twisted thoughts that God has left me
God has forsake me
that nothing that I know is true
trying to turn everything against me
playing with my emotions
taking advantage of my weaknesses
exploiting truths into lies
placed inside a maze of insanity
How much more will I be able to go on and have self control
throughout this new world
that tries to pit me against The One that I Love: God
I close my eyes
where my faith blooms and grows
in this secret garden of my soul
where I can always trust that water will flow
Breathing in and trusting
God will get me through and hasn’t forsaken me...
Whispered words from behind a wall
to cronies gathered hale and tall.
“Go on ahead.” He said. “Let me see.”
“If I can turn her sweet, on me.”
From within, she heard the tale,
the rye snickers, the wolves’ wails.
Yet, so like the doe in lantern light,
the wail entranced, did not cause fright.
Wide-eyed, stunned, the morsel stood,
in frozen stance within the wood
within his reach and steady glance,
the wolf approached, as if to dance.
With swaggering grace, he set fast pace,
a honeyed tongued Knight on the chase.
He spoke of honor of valorous deeds,
of his manly virtues, and she took heed.
“No, no, no,” said the Maid, she was shy.
“I’m afraid.” She said. “Do I hear a lie?”
He turned up her chin, and eye to eye,
he stroked her cheek and heard her sigh.
He offered her cake, this starving waif
with trembling hands, she took the bait
for upon his full lips , tongue and skin,
she could taste the sugar deep within.
He sought the warmth of blood and bone,
he thought the conquest all his own.
Yet, she held a hope buried deep within,
to bring forth the goodness, she saw in him.
Oh, she could well feel his aching need,
'twas his seedling soul, she sought to feed,
the prey, prayed, long to touch his heart
to give the wolf a brand-new start.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many’s the times, his teeth came near
to the blue-red vein in her throat,
and many’s the time the Universe stopped
like a dandelion seed afloat....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wolf in him balked for a short time,
tasted the joy of goodness’s wine;
loving, and feeling, and drinking anew,
what God has offered to each of you.
Could he extinguish this pure light?
Could he bring death to this delight?
Sorry, for the prey was the wolf within.
He was sore sorry; she’d let him begin.
Sorry, he could not grow in her arms.
Sorry, he could not succumb to her charms.
“Sorry,” was on the tip of his tongue
as he left, the prey on a run.
“Sorry.” said she, as her soul rose higher,
made stronger, though bathed in desire
like the fabled Phoenix so, she rose,
on the white wings of angels in repose.
A prayer floated back, as she drifted above
a prayer, she sent with her heart, to her love.
It echoed his sentiment of so many days.
“Sorry Love…” She said.
“May the Wolf find his Way.”
When the raspberry horizon
is curled up,
shaping caramel-lilac lips
of the cashmere kismet,
singing in a choir of cherry chivalry
and honey-glazed fireflies ~
those snowy stars
simmering in summer silence,
f l i c k e r
a w a y
leaving burgundy blurs of beliefs,
wrinkled in those blinking blemishes
of clementine memories,
which once trailed hysterical footprints
across my fairy-threaded horizons...
And I lay, breathing l o v e
on a pillow of pristine pearls ~
succulent with the silver songs
of perfumed yesteryears ~
chiming through chocolate valleys
and rippling in the ruffles
of origami reveries,
weaved in scarlet sonnets...
where you and I, chakras of the divine ~
w a l t z
like the sunset
and its shadow
through a halo of rose-rings ~
our spiritual silks
rinsed in rubies,
as every aromatic alphabet
caresses those syllables of storms,
stained with the murkiness of maroons
and the velvet rain of remnants
leaves a champagne spark ~
igniting indigo illusions
that whisper
whirling intuitions
in my saffron-kissed kundalini...
" O' thistle-light
distancing me
from my dandelion i n k ~
I'm no longer a paranoid petal
swirling in a havoc of hate and rust,
rather, I'm blossoming ~
aesthetic in strawberry arcs,
dreaming of a reality
above imposters of nightmares,
where my honeysuckle sepals
hold hope as a golden anchor ~
fluttering in pink opal warmth,
and I feel like the heat of life,
for those decaying flowers,
betrayed by
the
torrents
of
t i m e... "
dear lord of the scintillating swan light,
in the fulcrum of fragrances ~
this sailor soulfully sails,
as a telepathic trespasser
tangentially
steering
to an orchard
without
rose-tinted
reveries...
to be the last scent
of forget-me-nots ~
manifesting a meraki of miracles
in those mulberry mosaics,
where the esoteric zephyrs of elysium
still remember me ~
as a sandalwood-scented soulmate
of the forgiving sun...
Lost in thought, on the edge of a creek bank,
where the heart is caught between the songs
spun by dandelion seeds, blowing softly,
and whispering winds, gifted with wonders…
gentle joys, swiftly playing on the edges of a dew-stained moment,
when colors of grace in hues of rich purple and scarlet, remember
the burnt amber, the laughing sienna, the distant buttercup yellow,
playing on the heart who can see through the distant seas…
a dream, unburdened by the winds and the rising sun, beyond the shadows
a morning clinging to the moon despite all she’s done,
sensations of trembling psalms, abiding in the nights,
shadowed by light who will never fade,
because the sun casts her light where there is One…
who knows what it is to see through the ache, the pain, the grief,
into the drifting of a light, a sense of what it is to believe,
His life, a gift to those of us who can see
beneath the faded silhouettes of darkest storms,
through the past and all the dread, the doubts that come
from racing with the wind who reveals only One…
see what He has done brighter than the sun…
He is the Son who clings to the souls of those who’ve known
the meaning of life, the meaning of joy, the meaning of love
lifted by prayers who fade beyond His healing words,
like a song, He never stops playing
as He seeks to save, eternally saving those who were lost,
amid the sins darkest crimes, depravities, evils seen
by the distant peace, the forever belief…
as we weep for the weak, those who never leave
their wrongs, seeking the love that He’s shone
in the shadows of the sun, burning with grace
that comes from the One who is truly love
love beyond words, beyond descriptions…
He is the truth that convicts and convinces
saving souls from the worst punishment,
eternity without the One who prevents us
from knowing what it means to live eternally
without the love that is the whole reason for living!
In the shadow of the Sun,
He shines so hearts are won,
by love that comes from One
who saves to the uttermost,
assuring us of a love that is sure,
love that is eternally alive
inside the hearts who God decides
will live forever – by His side,
eternally praising, with love so amazing!
When we open our hearts to each other we allow grace to enter. It is as simple as that. And suffering — events that break open the heart — can become the refiner's fire that leaves us fully open to the truth about love and compassion. — Kathleen A. Brehony in Ordinary Grace
When the sun rises across the hills, coloring dreams
In beautiful – that’s grace
When the rain falls gentle from the clouds,
Erasing the silence, whispering promises – that’s grace
When laughter shadows the darkest doubt,
Writing hope on the heart, - that’s grace
When poetry prays from starlit skies, lighting the moments
With tenderness, a smile, a second chance – that’s grace
When dusk is alive with fireflies, glistening in the night,
Dancing like autumn leaves or the dandelion seeds
Who waft over the memories – that’s grace
When rhythms of giggles fall from the ears blessed
By young children, those who play like tomorrow
Is a promise – that’s grace
When feelings stir up so much joy that silence
Feels like the sun washing away all the lonely ache,
- That’s grace!
When the mist moves, unspoken, over the spirit
Rustling, gentling every breath – a prayer said,
Quivering among the pines and laurels – that is grace
When the rainbow soothes away every doubt,
A promise made – a promise kept – that’s grace
When the music of hope confirms the joy inside,
Singing encouragement to the soul – that is grace
When the truth is a place that remembers to believe,
Inside where the heart needs to see, to complete
Every need, there is only faith, belief – that is grace
When the sun stirs the spirit to a place of complete peace,
And every feeling within brings elation, appreciation
For the caress of the breeze, falling lovingly – that is grace
When the cerulean sky erases every uncertainty,
Declaring the heavens are a place for amity, dreams
Coming out, beneath the shadows, serenity – that’s grace
Heed the beautiful, the miracles, the wonders of a moment,
The heavenly, the spiritual, the blessed who will all agree
Tomorrow is not promised, but the hope of eternity – that is grace
Just believe – believe and see, recognize the reality – that’s grace
Just believe, just believe… that is grace! It will forever be –
The greatest blessing God could give to you and me!
Branches of beans wave most predominantly in stormy weather but heavily prevalent are the many climbing chimps whose antics please the spotted cloud and cause a clap in the sky. But half a cup of mildew in a snow covered dome is neither a doorstep nor is it a milked out heifer in a four poster bed. Recline no reaches. Reach no radiuses'. And surely then a bean pole could adequately carry over forty-six washing baskets full to the brim, nineteen plates of roast dinner, ten puddings and a very large crystal chandelier. How rather marvellous. And how talented too. Recreation receiving rather real room radii. And the ratio of a dandelion could be said to be equal to a sponge in orbit. Wow. Mere waste of a tongue to be taking a meal off an iron suitcase. With or without gravy it is quite irrelevant to savour such a lead. But beading on a skirting board can often be very amusing and comical as it tells the best jokes to rugs and doesn't like the carpet as it gets very dirty very quickly. All rise then. Make sure you glide around the floors in the house. Levitate if you can to avoid foot sweat on fabric and wood but mot on marble. Here the sweat is procreating playing poker. Large high belted heavyweights. Piccolo putty in a jellied eel frame talks with great seasoning to a bull via a wireless hookless contraption that cannot be seen by aerial prowlers. Nor cannot it be photographed. But photographers put painted pain plums onto paper. Always see within the tight fitting frying pan for the handle is not to be adjusted at this time. Make way for the herds of pancakes are clamouring together to catch a glimpse of the latest spawned factory product. When hair is not a hare. That is too natural and wild plus it is very clever too. Cleverness is unwelcome in steel framed prison planets and areas of true freedom and safety are yet to be exact and as yet have not been to a zoo. Multifunctional zoo on wheels racing against a circus, a football game, a badminton match and an opera. Produce no pollen from a hypocritical hippo whose hidden house halves then heaves. But ni leaves. For they are only for the waiting skirts and shirts with heels and glasses chinking in a bystanders glance at a freeform rabbit dance. Haha mealworm arriving. Hahah plate of combustible prawns. Xxxxx morphology Z z z z z
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