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.
Meth Addiction
Sneaks in like a stealthy and silent thief
Hiding in the cover of darkness
Unrolls its evil desire
To take all of you and leave no remnants
Cells dying, body destroyed
Force of destruction
Like a tornado wind that blows
Through all that love you
in your path
Always on the brink
Of that ever so narrow edge
The tears of an ocean fall like rain
From mother’s broken hearts
Endless torture
Of past regrets
Wishes upon dandelions and daisies
And Stars
Rainbows with their pots of gold
Prayers to the One on High
Seemingly deafened ears, but maybe not…
Elephant in the room
Always there
Night-time terror
But sometimes hope!
Time is ticking
Time goes on
Day after day
Week after week
Angels surround
Beckoning from mother’s prayers
Hope, hope and more hope!!
The clock is running out
Grace Daub 5/4/2020
Gently sloping emerald hills,
Old, gray fences brightened by daffodils,
Majestic trees ready to burst into bloom,
Strangers smiling and waving at me.
That’s my Kentucky.
Gleaming horses peacefully grazing
Behind white fences,
Old, leaning barns speaking of tobbacco and history,
Spring peepers voicing joy by the pond,
Young groundhogs nibbling on new growth,
That’s my Kentucky.
Forsythia blooming against an old log cabin,
Surrounded by ancient maples in red spring splendor,
And the weathered schoolhouse nearby,
boardered by a split rail fence covered in ivy.
That’s my Kentucky.
The quietly rolling Ohio river carries coal
away from these hills in barges,
While a bald eagle turns wide circles above,
Soaring on air curents invisible to me.
That’s my Kentucky.
Along the creek watercress and forget-me-nots are flourishing,
A blue heron stands statue-still on the glittering water’s egdge.
The ancient mill is nestled between the wooded hills,
where the sparkling creek works the creaky wheel.
That’s my Kentucky
Softly swaying cedar trees line roads like tin soldiers,
Decked in fresh, spring green coats,
And underneath velvety violets and glorious bright dandelions
celebrate their life with happy faces.
That’s my Kentucky.
A Green Dog Loves Decent Purple Dandelions
I knew I had it with me
It gave me so many great ideas
Shaped them and formed them into poetry
Lately the words do not come to me
They mix together and become incomprehensible
I write, “A green dog loves decent purple dandelions”
That won’t make sense to anyone with some drugs
I want to write
I want to create something special
“A green dog loves decent purple dandelions”
What the hell does that mean?
They came from my fingers through my keyboard
My fingers were controlled by my mind
What was my mind thinking?
What was the imagery I was intending?
Christ, I wish I knew
He won’t tell me what was in my mind
I don’t think he would want to know
I just know one thing
With lines like that my mind is not with me
It left with a bottle of Kentucky whiskey
Travelling on its own
My mind is on vacation to a different planet
A planet in a galaxy so many light-years away
It may never come back to help me be creative
“A green dog loves decent purple dandelions”
That may be the last line I ever write
And THAT would be a hell of a way to be remembered
As the year ends, its hues trickle down into a bewitched sunset,
Beneath autumn's brown cheeks, the sky is boldly dusted,
With summer's goodbye in a yellow garb, it laid over the lands,
The earth's heart in seed, for bouquets shunned, from desires begged.
Trills of roses, entangled in the pretentious bloom of narcissi,
A swarm of dandelions that detach in the breeze filled with youthful dreams,
Waving to someone on the wind, over ponds, over labyrinthine paths, knotted in
Nests of song, frail hopes in a whisper, awaiting in majesty,
Delicate shadows of fluff and flight,
That tremble in the depth of the flame, in the sharp cuts of mist,
And limestone caves through the reckless fire shed their white.
Herds from the north inscribe their path on the southern sky,
Charting the return of the seasons that sneak through the gray rain.
The sun hums the twilight to sleep, lost in the blustering night,
And bare branches, sifted by longing, stretch under November's surrender, towards the laziness of winter's darkness.
And so, the year unravels in a symphony of melancholy and charm,
Unveiling itself in a dance woven on the thread of memories,
Marching in silence, between being and forgetting in a delicate tapestry,
With each departing leaf, a mystery is lost, a legend is hummed.
Submissively swimming into autumn's bosom, kissing the frost,
In a silk of destinies wrapped in the cosmic twist of time,
Silent hopes at the crossroads of worlds, waiting to be tied anew
Under the warmth of new dawns, reborn from the cry of the freeze.
I wonder if those same bells still ring each day
Or whether they have ceased to play.
When I was young, similar bells chimed
From the church not far down the hill
Only a block away.
It is doubtful they would chime nowadays
More than once or twice each day,
No longer upon the hour.
Will the bells continue to ring across the globe?
Will I have absorbed their vibrations from
The passage of time right after
I will have been meeting you in the dandelions?
Bells possess resonance
They are symbols
They're ringing somewhere now
I've appreciated the sound of them
I've continuously enjoyed their chatter
Music is emanating from bells
They've been changing my world,
Keeping this young mind entertained
Bells stimulated our brains
Bells were creators of waves
That were changing the quality of life
After we had accepted them
We had been living our lives in wondrous
Ignorance of the rhythmical sounds of nature
That will fill our spirits until we will be longing for more
The chimes will have sounded by noon,
A few hours after they will have been finalizing
The wishes of our ancestors.
To partake in the absorption of bell sounds
Invites our playful spirits
To return to childhood once again with
The ancestors who are now in the wind
Their gentleness forever ascending
Their love unending
Dandelions shivered when patient
you breathed here
unknotting ropes across my prison door
your deeds proceeded surely dear
guitaring songs of war and love for all to hear
as petals opened dripping yellow blood
guts writhing the knots inside
Black Excalibur tourmaline handle swish, hiss
silver soothing a red hot spine
Now your taste, smell and touch is
away, bays floating
in space you sway calling my name
silvery shadow and amber locks the same
rooted to stable sea spun docks
I watch our atoms entangle acid muddled
grandfather paced the passage
Excalibur Black gold lacing swish, hiss, wish
my exactitude assessed strategic sword’s desires
Soaring your steady head
observes luminal Ashtar
breathing into two hearts whispering
deadening longing loosening its hold
though my wishes held by penalties
bond remains sealed in aeonic sky bold
faces and aces merging quiet quarking
Black Excalibur blade swish, hiss, wish
all preconceptions sharpened dissolving
Serapis’ turquoise chiffon turban blows
binary seeds arching fold
unborn worlds as you forward peer
will arms aching or wings fluttering
shorten shimmering light I cast fast
across stoic heights set between
throbbing Hearts of bloodless waiting ?
grandmother continued baking bread
Excalibur Black pointed_____ swish, hiss
silver cymbals clashing duality
throbbing Hearts of bloodless waiting
bloodless Hearts of throbbing longing _____
Black Excalibur pierced Hearts open
Love quarks floats in ether
black-white to remain in static
I do not melt despairing, though brain cells are dissolving
It is ONE who commands all silver
a stainless steel colander fell
rattling my sword quiet
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
SPRING
As a gentle rain teases the shivering grass spring whispers its invitation. They will come. The house hunting feathered flyers, the burrowers and builders. Colorful dances and warbling invites will ensue – as the mating game commences. The trees will dress for the ceremony, dew soaked flowers will bow as the procession passes. The chatter, chirp, yip, bark, and squawk of life will echo a cacophony of rebirth as the deep rooted dandelions taunt both sun and honeybee.
Spring tiptoes slowly
awakens the continuum
of life’s longing
3/7/2021
Springtime Haibun Poetry Contest
ML Kiser sponsor
Don’t let a life time slip away
Don’t let a moment go unnoticed
Hold on closely to each day
Let your heart and mind be focused
Make every happy moment last
let each sad one pass you by
Beware of darkness and shadows cast
Spread your wings to fly
Dance to the music of your heart
Guided by a caring soul
Embrace this youthful feeling
Eternal children do not grow old
Laughter is the medicine
That massages all sadness away
While gentle smiles will maintain
The beauty of your day
Don’t let a heart beat pass you by
Live deep with each breath you take
Share all the goodness you have inside
With every friend you make
Stop to smell the dandelions
When you cannot find a rose
For all beauty in the right light
will nurture all that grows
Let every cloud amuse you
Even in a clear blue sky
Your day is forever changing
Don’t let it pass you by
Form:
The thick numerous shoots of grass have come out,
no more snow shovels til late autumn comes about.
I hear the robins chirp as they tend their nests,
wait....the sound of a cranky lawn mower chugging
to life from its winter's rest!
Quickly, dear, go out and mow before everyone else
does!
our yard needs to look perfect, 'cuz-
the neighborhood spring lawn mowing wars have
just begun,
it's quite serious, not so much fun.
Yard envy is so common in our subdivision,
The HOA "Yard Of The Month" prize brings derision.
If the young couple who just moved in across the
street think their landscaping is the best,
my roses and begonias will put them to the test.
Hubby can't start the riding mower,
he's cursing its parentage midst dandelions
and clover.
The other men in the cul-de-sac are already
halfway done,
as their wives bring out iced tea for them
under the strong sun.
Well, well, tomorrow is the neighborhood
block party,
I've already made an array of warm weather
dishes so hearty,
My potato salad and baked beans will surely
be the envy of the other cooks,
it is in the good 'ol American spirit-
to compete and be a smug schnook! ~