Long Dandelions Poems
Long Dandelions Poems. Below are the most popular long Dandelions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dandelions poems by poem length and keyword.
The year 2020 was a year of adjusting to new realities dealing with the pandemic. A pandemic that affected so many people in many ways. This year is one of hope that the lessons of yesterday will become our blessings today.
I am so grateful for my life which includes my loving wife and family. I have also been blessed with two dogs who greet me every day with wagging tails and sparkles in their eyes when I come home from work. They make me smile inside.
I became more aware and thankful for all the things that surround me because of the pandemic. This spring, the dandelions were the first flowers to stand out against the green grass, and I found them to be beautiful. My heart was a bit sad when had to mow the lawn.
The other colors this spring was truly amazing, especially the plants and flowers. There were animals that came to visit us, including raccoons, a mother deer, and her baby. It was special to witness a skunk and a cat eating side by side from the food dish left by my wife. Yes, we feed all of these animals.
Although we have a comfortable home, and a roof over our heads, and those creatures outdoors needed some help this year because of a drought. We installed a soaker hose on our fence dripping to the ground. It was a blessing to witness all the different birds and animals searching for water to quench their thirst.
We installed several hummingbird feeders and they are everywhere now. The hummingbirds have come to know us so well that they fly in front of our faces to chatter. We have a water trough for the animals outside the fence around our house with a few feeders.
The drought this year was so severe that the plants were so oh very thirsty. Thankfully, we are blessed with a well, allowing us to care for those things that needed our help.
Then autumn came, and there was an explosion of color. The leaves seemed to be extra brilliant this year. The tree leaves chattered in the autumn breeze that ending our drought with rain.
As Thanksgiving approaches, we experience moments when we feel overwhelmed by the blessings of our relationships, opportunities, and the beauty around us. We tend to express our feelings and share them during Thanksgiving, but we should always remember that this is not just about Thanksgiving day. We need to express these things everyday.
Edward J Ebbs - October 30, 2021
The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi
I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.
Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.
Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.
I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.
Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.
In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.
Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
Have you ever seen bullfrog green jump across a Lilly pad?
Did you ever see gold moth bathing in a moonshine bath?
Do you watch as teal raindrops bless and baptize the stream?
Will you hear the wood windmill song it sings each spring?
I walk real close to the sandy coast where Nana and I share things
She told me once always have fun always be true and dream
I recall those days her voice her face I can still see her smile
The dandelions seemed less boring to me a wild city child
Papa came into the house with his muddy blue overalls
His gray mustache seems to shout louder than Pa talks
“The time is close and he is nearly broke come if you want to see
The albino pony being tamed from the only pack of wild ones near the creek”
My eyes grow big and I must admit I love excitement of any kind
So I dropped my book to have a look and ponder the pony so fine
The pony kicks and then it sits as if one final stubborn nerve exists
Then it saw me it started to scream and have all kind of fits
Papa says whew! This one likes you! Why don’t you say hi?
I was really too scared and had never dared to ride a pony or try
But for some reason I had a season of unusual courage to spare
I climbed the fence went straight to him
The pony with ice eyes white hair
As soon as I came close, he let out a little noise
It was as if he had hoped to find comfort in my voice
I didn’t know what to do or how I would earn his faith
But in a minute or two our eyes like glue
Stuck and we became mates
The pony calm was eating from my palm
And I feel a new esteem
Instead breaking the pony in
I feel he broke into me
Each day the boredom was swept away
By my pony friend indeed
I would feed him little treats change his hay
And he fed me spiritually
The pony still was a little strong willed
So no one was allowed
To ride him or take him anywhere
That was too far from the house
So times were slow even so the pony and I would play
He could do tricks and even dance a bit
If I ask him a certain way.
Pony bends and I get on him
Like the wind he rides to town
I find the nurse who was at church
And she calls others around.
So that summer I lost and found things
I would never willingly give up
Nana and kittens and Papa getting bitten
A pony and farm full of love.
A NOTABLE HORSE CONTEST
10/13/2021
SPONSOR ROBERT JAMES LIGUORI
Truly ... .
What-an-honor, this-sweet-grace ...
perfect a righteous gift-it-is.
The day waiting patiently-in the morning,
coffee-in-hand moccasin slippers-
waking-up-to-it-the-gentle-waterfall-awaiting-me ...
cascading-into-a-shimmering-crystal-
still-fresh-rippling, gently-churning-pool-of-dreams,
the many-wonders-of an alliterate life.
Breathing ... breathtaking-to be sure-it-is-a-chore-itself ...
it-takes-time.
Round and round-a throw-down-
in-and-out-tic-tock-goes the clock-
knock-it-down-drag-it out-
though-it-may-be-a-crucial, bloody,
treacherous seemingly listless brutal ...
bruising, got beaten-up-again, lowdown hoedown-
gasping-for air-sometimes-
discouraging ... kind of-a-thing ... .
Sill-so-it-gets-up-early-raring-to-go,
continues fighting ...
with mercy in hand-
forgiveness-taken-into-the-battle with-it,
it-can't be-lost.
Can't be lost.
Tender tales tall tell-timely
in-earnest the-fervency ... divinity-relevancy,
reality of-the-story.
Stars shine-cast-their-beauty-liberally ...
sheen's of glassy rays-of-overt light-
sparkle-freely-in-their delight-
under-the-moon-laughter ...
fills the-night ... .
Swallows in their benignity ...
wade about puff-up-full-and-billow ...
shadow's in their whimsy way,
cast their welcoming ...
in-the-warming,
as the weeping tree weeps.
Cool-pools shallow of-crystal-rock-and-alabaster-sands
promote their-gentle fondness upon the pond floor.
Kindred the swallows in-their-promise,
beauty-benignity ...
in-the-moonlight-they-are one with love,
and running felicitous ...
touched by the union
follows closely the dove ...
divinity has found a home.
Liberty residing-evolving-
evermore-abounding well-
beside desire,
the heart-makes-haste.
Peace stakes its claim in faith,
in-the-Son's-glorious-arrival, abandon,
absolution, return.
Cast-about-in-the gesture,
blowing-free-in the wind growing-
abundantly like the humming bird-
sipping on wild-honey-dripping-
fresh-in-the-rising Summer-Sun ... .
Splashing-onto dew-drops-
glistening as you-know-
they always do lying upon lilac-
flower petals, dandelions-
growing even-more-
elaborate-carried along-
with-the-blueberry-
cakes-popcorn-soda-
I've-just-consumed ... .
Trixie Light Wing, the lovely, lithe,16-year-old light-worker faerie,
was the first one awake in the prairie on this fine Spring morn.
She effortlessly dusted the grasses, the dandelions, the daffodils,
and the pink hydrangeas with pixie dust called Big Pix.
She had come by the Pixie Dust legitimately, because it had
been presented to her as a gift, for being a sixteenth-born.
Named Trixie Light Wing by the Pixies, the light-worker faerie,
lived up to her name, because she was an expert of tricks.
The dragons were still asleep in their cave when she liberally
dusted their front knocker with the Big Pix.
She knew it would be easier to do it now and ask for forgiveness,
than ask permission and be told “no”.
The dragons were known for their inability to see
another side of the story or even flex their own a bit.
Trixie felt jubilant that she had gotten past their door
without waking even the sweet and cute
2-seasons-old baby dragon, Little Joe.
The Flitzwillies were the first magical creatures
to wake up as were the rest of the Light-Workers, Tee and Bee.
Tee was an avid admirer of Trixie; she wanted to be like Trixie,
she wanted to act like Trixie, Big Bad Tee.
Bee was not so much an admirer, a light-worker with
a lone wolf type attitude, one in this prairie we rarely see.
Bee would have liked to stay in the dark cave and play
Video games all day long, rather than be friends to the Mee.
The Mee is what we call our cooperative made up of faeries,
dragons, and flitzwillies. I am one of them too.
My name is Khan, pronounced CAN, and I can do a lot of things
other mythical creatures are not allowed to do.
Probably because I am the princess, and my Mommy,
the queen, helps to make all the rules for the Mee.
Daddy doesn’t dare cross her, or she will add another
rule for him, and he already has thirty-three.
I decided to pull out all the stops today,
and play a trick on Trixie before she
Could play a trick on me.
Disguised as a little baby unicorn, I watched her
feed me an apple, and began to
Talk about how pretty I would be.
When I shape shifted back to myself, we laughed and
Laughed at my trick at her expense.
Then she pointed out that we could ride on
A Tilt-a-Whirl for only a sixpence.
And so we did.
While Beauty Sleeps
While Beauty sleeps, there are souls upon this earth that have never known her. Many seasons have passed and her eyes are still shut. She is hiding behind pavements of tar and cement. She is drugged from the smell of burning rubber and plastic scents.
Styrofoam has compromised her health. There are souls upon this earth that have never laid eyes upon her. I am here to testify, to tell all who listens, that I am a poet-I came to tell you things that only poets can tell.
There are souls that I ennoble while looking through my eyes, they can see the deep woods, the flowing fountains, New earthlings can now envision the fragrances of a million blossoms bobbing, bobbing to the cricket's nightly song.
I am the architect rebuilding the walls of time... Desperately trying am I, to sing my song before more mortals die; To sing my loving words before more mortals die. There are souls upon this earth. it’s' sad but very true – Humans who know nothing of love and beauty.
We all must live to die or die without ever living. We stumble and sometimes fall; However, we have that something, that lost souls never saw.
We know grace and mercy, we know compassion, love, and respect; We knew mountains and valleys. We also knew blue skies without chemtrails. We knew praying mantis, we knew beetles and snails.
We knew breadfruit; and why dandelions and mushrooms grew. We know where beauty sleeps, so we live to tell the poets tale. We speak of days gone by and gently arouse her beauty as we speak.
I am not an artist of spoken word, neither am I a profit, I am but a poet shaking beauty gently, awakening her from a long, long nap...Reminiscent of when innocents reigned as king.
I do not recite for money nor do I sing for fame. I only report what my heart records, and look forward to another spring. I have danced with the humble, and shared wisdom with noble queens;
My excitement overflowing brings joy to eager ears. Loves fury has entitled me, to shield you from your fears. Myself, yes me, I whisper softly, as not to disturb hate.
God bless you on your journey; I can no longer interfere, nor save you from your fears.
You have what you need to carry on, and I know that you are able.
When love gave birth to folklores and fables...I gave birth to poetry babies.
Flim flam artists con like hackers
From the digital underworld
Scammers. Modern Thieves
Taking advantage of not just
Little ol’ ladies, but Me!
And the vulnerable gullible glue
That holds our species together
Shame on you! I cast you, you know who you are
who entertain time with waste
With the spoils of others
Internet Idiocracy is not a democracy
You, gangsters of greed
With the shameless need
To make others bleed
For your sins
I'm a $1,000 in the hole, you poor soul
I cast you
Into a special spot, the Deepest Hole
In Hell
That only one spell can break
You free
Give up your riches
Give up your chaotic chores
Give in to Jesus
He is the only Door
For any redemption
You fools!
Not tHe ENd
Am I whacked out, or what?
To actually believe
And actually, have high hopes
That someday human beings
Will just FOCUS their attention
And unite under one Earth flag
To hold up high with human half-baked intentions
Even with a modicum of enlightenment
Accomplish the Unimaginable end
Peace it all together and
Free the human spirit not by the Bomb
But by giving, each person their voice
Acknowledge the uniqueness that spawns genius
Education is everything. Never stop learning ...
Be allowed to express, even darklike King’s
Freed to believe, to hope, even grope or cling
For a better future for our grandchildren
Will it be a legacy of Liberty, or loss?
Am I a whacked out global goliath?
Or what!?
Child of God
Damn right I stand up
With my brothers and sisters
Against oppression, tyranny
And fatalistic foes
Hand in hand, with the sWORD of Christ
His piece ploys me to reveal
Something whacky
So, come join me at the outer edges of the Greens
Where dandelions and roses grow
Side by side, row by row
Stitching the seams of the Universe together
Come gets some whacky Taffy while it lasts
Off to the whacked-out Lands for Peace
Keep on sippin’ some poetrysoup
Where my whacky wisdom
Is the latest scoop
If not mine, then yours, you nincompoop
Let's get whacky in a Whackyland!
Let’s gets soupy in a poetrysoup land!
Let’s be friendly in a Friendland!
So, Keep on Sharing!
even if it’s a little whacky ...
A re-post of poem 939895 that mysteriously disappeared from PS...
The early morning darkness oozes melancholy whispers
as enraged storm clouds enfold me in a final deathly embrace.
She has come for me.
I can feel her breathy torment
breathe cold upon my beleaguered brow.
A cautious glimpse through my bedroom window
reveals the rage in her nictating blue eyes.
Frozen to my pillow I watch in terror.
Her minacious exhalations mesmerizing me.
Like a beautiful child giddily watching weightless seeds
float gently from blown Dandelions,
I watch transfixed,
as blinding fury strips leaves from trees,
breaking limbs like snapping bones.
The canopy twists in distorted grimaces
her demented smile mirrored in each pained contortion,
her wail echoed in the screams of trees.
They bend and turn and pull their roots from the soil
in vain attempts to escape her wrath.
She has come for me!
There is no escape.
A swirling dance of death and destruction,
bleeding droplets assail the glass.
A thousand tiny fingers tapping, scratching,
try to gain entrance into my final safe haven.
I can feel her drawing ever closer,
hovering above me,
sniggering,
her passion tempting me,
seducing me,
exulting in her conquest for she knows I can’t resist,
draining from me my heart,
my love,
my life.
Her cold dead fingers reach for me in my dream,
stealing my essences, draining my soul,
leaving nothing,
a dying husk of what once was an ebullient life, a caring man.
Then through the night a ray of brilliant light beams hope against darkness.
The angel appears.
Her words beckon me to fight against the demon,
the seductress, the succubus.
encouraging me,
caressing me,
With her agile wit and calm caring mind
she soothes me.
She comes for me,
and I await her eagerly.
Her laughter like the tinkle of sweet bells
vanquishes my night terror, waking me from my dream.
She comes for me,
and I melt longingly into her comforting willowy embrace
as the ravaging misery fights its final battle,
destroying all that it can.
With one last desperate breathe it screams curses into the night,
while my sweet angel strokes me with her words
and her beautiful blue eyes flash a brummagem smile.
09/15/2017
Tender tales tall tell timely in earnest the fervency... divinity relevancy, reality
of the story. Stars shine bright cast their beauty liberally, sheen's of glassy rays of overt
light sparkle freely in their delight. Under the moon laughter... fills the night.
Swallows in their benignity... wade about puff up full and billow... shadow's in their whimsy
way, cast their welcoming in the warming, as the weeping tree weeps tears full as cool pool
shallows of crystal rock and alabaster sands promote their gentle fondness upon the pond
floor. Kindred the swallows in their promise, beauty-benignity... in-the moonlight they are one
with love, and running felicitous ... touched by the union follows closely the dove ... .
Divinity-has found a home.
Liberty residing evolving evermore-abounding well beside desire. The heart makes haste.
Peace stakes its claim in faith, in the Son's glorious arrival, abandon, absolution, return.
Cast about in the open gesture, blowing free in the ease of the wind growing abundantly like
the humming bird sipping on wild honey dribbling off the bees nests fresh in the rising
Summer Sun... .
Splashing onto dew drops glistening as you know they always do lying upon lilac flower
petals, dandelions growing even more elaborate carried along with the blueberry cakes
popcorn and soda I've just consumed... .
Yes mid the dance of the weeds love, is a gift, of life. Given perfect union, form, fashioning,
purpose. Advancing onward outward-upward throughout all within all around us surrounding
us as it grows.
And hearing the sweetness of its cry.
All in flight... birds-come fluff up billow grow full make their refuge-mid His wake... ! God's
Joy, illustrious welcome lay anew under the sky's elucidated everywhere and there, peace, is
here... every way and lea way dancing in and between the light, and as for now... time lye
still... . Is thrown about and back again, time and again everywhere asunder, and I-feel truly
He's saying to all of us... as again He states this to me...
"Take the time... friend... "Hold on"".
"I've got you... ."
"Everything... will be all right... !"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kl-VCHzS1So&feature=related
Adventures With James My Grandson
by Joan Donnelly 1995
He doesn't walk but runs to his subject on interest,
and upon arrival, leaps into the air.
With bended knees and flattened feet he lands like an athlete,
and his welcoming, "Hi," cuddles my heart as I wipe away a tear
Then he wraps a wee hand around my finger leading me into his realm of
Adventure and joy.... with enthusiastic anticipation,
though he hasn't turned two yet, my youngest son's eldest boy.
He guides me to a rest area and seats me by patting his hand on an outdoor substitute for a chair.
At his, "Sit, Sit,"I oblige him as he runs through rain puddles...then..
gifts me with a bouquet of dandelions and a honey-filled , "Here."
Once I presented him with a learning toy, his repsonse delighted my soul,
"Awh, Awh,"he uttered appreciatively while tilting his head ia sideways to and fro.
One day he noticed a kitten curled up 'neath a sheltering tree
Swiftly he raced toward her with an over-the-shoulder, "Come," to me.
I couldn't help but chuckle when he repeated, "Come," once more.
He never caught the enlightened feline but brightened my day for sure.
Then he ran down the street where he sighted a wooden plank on the ground.
"Bat, Bat,"rang his happy chant at the treasure he'd found.
With effort he maneuvered the narrow plank over his shoulder gleefully
"Ball, Ball,"he urged and I followed his searching eyes co-operatively.
To my amazement, as if waiting to be found ,lay a beach ball on a grassy mound...
Though I've not known baseball to be played with such.
It was of balloon size and as I looked into James' sparkling eyes..
I wondered if he'd become the baseball player his Dad hoped for so much.
I could see James straining to keep the awkward bat raised so with a..
"Ready, Set,"I pitched ball and prayer as James let out a sigh.
The bat he forward inched as he licked his upper lip and by gosh got a hit,
Then said, "Cool,"as we watched the ball fly.
"Get it, Nanny,"James gave me the order and I retrieved the ball intending to extend our fun........when.....Was it my imagination or did I hear....a crowd in a filled stadium cheer at the announcer's , "Well I'll Be, Folks! Young MacMaster makes another home run !"