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August Sep 22
raise your hands in the air
and cry out your sorrow

accept the changing of the winds-
nature doesn't change her blows for a simple drop of water-
and let your mask fall to the soft ground.

daisies in the wind-
dandelion puffs in your hair, your mouth-
life soon to be-
or not to be

look around-
what do you see?

daisies, small white petals and little yellow seeds-

the sun with her bright face
beaming down to mine

the grass is long- to my knees-
wet from the morning dew....

raise your hands in the air
and cry out your joy

you've accepted the changing of the winds-
nature doesn't change her blows for a single drop of water-
and let your smile light up the world.
not sure about this one but here we go.
Meca Sep 22
I once remembered,
I was filled with   m  e  m  o  r  i  e  s,
yet were   b  l  o  w  n   a  w  a  y,
I gaze from a distance,
Watching them go,
Twinkling as the stars,
I'm left alone
it wasn’t the earth that brought them here. Nor grass nor tree
instead a solemn scavenger
disinterested of it’s grateful treasures

sprinkling not like rain but like ashes
a goodbye unsaid and unheard
a kiss blown from armies away
hoping it may reach his camp

no god brought it here
as we fight our wars and **** our brothers
it did not fall from heaven
pushing through a crowd of loss

may there be no reason for its being
but persist it must
in hope for its spawns survival
growing evermore

through the cracks, they pray that shrapnel escapes
not all are so lucky as they
blood spilling for their passage on

they are no villains
just weaken souls in need of homes
so far from where their lovers lay,
in bed with other men

deployed as her seed will be too
in the wind together
Kairosclere Jun 12
A mellow flower
Waving in the wind
Dried yellow
A long while ago
Yet holding on
To the plant stem
Unwilling to let go
Of its past.
Eva May 17
Dandelions carelessly dance in the wind
to the songs of the rustling trees.
What was left of the afternoon sun,
buries itself under the ancient pines.
Insects fill the fields with a mesmerizing lullaby.
Luminous flowers steal the last ray of sunshine,
and hide away into the night.
I hope everyone is doing great in quarintine, stay healthy and stay strong:)
Fheyra May 14
White mares skipping high
Fleeting bows of flight
A delicate sway and tender—
Of nymph water bearers.

Grip to the pole— start bending your toes
Gritty witty Pointes—  slide sailing your stockings
Don't be weary— you all weigh like babies.

When everyone curves below,—
I might cry low
The tug of veins,— Twisting my equity
All for a share of artistry—
That shakes dynamic scaling
How can I fly with this?

A flock of gnasgabs— Forming on the floor
Say, I was bewildered—
By such floating nerves
I suppose, my anchors would stumble!

Muscles shifted miniscules to humongous
I learned the arc's way
How swans scoop to ponds,— and paddle
To split stems without abraded rock scrapes
The pricked would never ill still again— For the element of wind,—is a frolicking mentor of mine.

What shape is imposed?
Is to be trained to sketch enough?—
Or to smother crust on feet?
A little pinch on my nose—
They told me— "Be toned, and not be a cylinder, or you'll be getting misfits."
If groom is to groan,— Then unwinding is not an option.

Stale eyelids, protrude lips;—
With undetermined purple ankles
Presenting, the queue of peacocks—
Crafted by coned imagery!
"Smile darlings, smile.."
"Grant them a magical show!"

A single blow, I think I would fall,—
Or a slip— Brought by fragility
A collapsed bud of covert slim blossoming
What sot titles be lurking—
On this lumpy staging?
I see the curtains closing..

Raggle-taggle pearls, no—
Just piercing prisms
Attach with vessel tubes— providing life
Rates and beats,— I am awake—
While their pupils start bowing—
In a forum with wheezing closed fists
I cannot nod for this; so too, I replied
—"Let brittle vases be a harbinger for naive pottery makers."

"Spin and spin around— Oh stop, I'm not a music box!
I love dancing,— but don't treat me like a doll!"

I escaped, from dry flower fields
Now, I am a deviant— of their snotter lying— of absolute bloom
A standard of fixed chains and keys
No more attending to an epithet of perfection,— For I will be the motion of my own tides and breeze.

I  battle to Ballet,— For 'tis as knight with armored strength— of fenced rivals 'til to bleed
I risk for Ballet,— Like cliff dancing, even on edges— I am steady,—
And tough to dive in lakes and oceans
I fall for Ballet,— How Alice fall to the Wonderland— discovering mysteries in every dooorway
I compose to Ballet,— As I dwell in the well of written poems and tunes,—
I inherit to move..

The wishful dandelions,—
Sprawling with honeybees and butterflies,— of me running with ribbons in Spring time
I feel my hair is brushing,—
As I blew these dandelions,— Sending letters to other gardens—
"Dark, Bright, Tiny, or Huge— Anyone can wear a Tulle,— Come and fly, as we're all free and beautiful like dandelions.."
Just dance to the wings of your heart, and you shall find freedom within your happiness.
Janice Mar 21
I remember,

I remember a time that thinking of you didn't make me feel like dying

Where my world was full of dandelions and cigarette smoke

Of car rides with you
listening to 'our song' but now
our song makes me sick to my stomach

Ever since saying I love you
meant goodbye

And now, I hate dandelions
M Sanchez Feb 23
They say a picture is worth a thousand words
Well these can only paint a few
But they are some of the most important ones
Like I’m sorry.. Thank you.. and my favorite one,
I love you
and though I’ve never needed them
I have always wanted them
And every time I see them I ask myself if I do not deserve them
Will there ever come a time when one of them will remind you of me?
I know that I am not a sunflower,
Because the sun tends to always be on the side that I am not looking at
Perhaps I’m more of a lotus flower, whose muddy waters you’d rather stay away from
Or am I a rose and you are simply afraid that my thorns will hurt you?
What I really feel like
Is a field of dandelions... full of all the things you’d wish to change in me..
and yet sometimes I can’t help but to think that perhaps,
I am not a flower at all
Perhaps I have been pulled so far from my roots that I can no longer grow
My petals are damaged and I have stopped blooming
Maybe that is why I want but can not ask for some simple flowers..
I just hope that the day I receive them it won’t be by grace..
No I’m sorry
No thank you
No I love you
But rather an “I miss you..”

Right beside my grave
Orig. Oct 21, 2017
GreenWitch Jan 17
Just be kind
Let go of resentment
Quit picking old scars
They've healed long ago
Trauma is so much a part
Of your identity
Who could you possibly be
If you let yourself heal completely?
Would you recognize the reflection
When the fog is wiped from the mirror?
Or are you still in creation mode
Taking pieces of everyone else
Trying on their skin to see how it wears
See how it feels against your issues
What are we but a mere construct
Of experiences and observations
Picked from those around us
How we create ourselves and the world around us. Funny to think we're all cut from one fabric.
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