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Juliana Dec 2014
Are you sound of mind?
Addicted to dandelions
like the ocean is to ice.
Wait outside the blood bank,
learn how to write dialogue
and make saccharin spines.

My journal is a tangle of spines,
keep an open mind
help me box up my ****** dialogue.
I’ve always been a fan of dandelions
etching paths along the river bank,
streams within the winter ice.

Buckets of camphor ice
relax the notches in spines
as we wait in line at the food bank.
Thoughts of jawbones on my mind,
the taste of dandelions
and organized pre-scripted dialogue.

Backhanded blue dialogue,
counting the vanilla crystals of ice
blowing the smell of cinnamon into floating dandelions.
My hands handle happiness spines
with the peace of mind
of money in the piggy bank.

Let's rob a bank
shooting quiet malleable dialogue
through an altered state of mind.
Your ribs are two sheets of ice
ivy wrapping around our intertwined spines
crumbly blowing breaths of dandelions.

Second hand dandelions
build up in the river bank
muddy trenches around spines
whisper outspoken blue green dialogue.
Three pounds of dry ice,
warm water vapour at the back of my mind

Store buy your dandelions, bear in mind
that the West Bank is covered in ice
and that spines speak their own muted dialogue.
sestina series continues, one left
Jenovah Aug 2013
Dandelions

Hair was long and yellow like pale dandelions;
Complimenting blue eyes, and white skin.

I was drawn into such rare beauty,
such new and unexplored mystery.

New girl in town, a new taste of envy in the air.
I befriended you; I wasn't so quick to judge.

I studied you closely.
I gained your friendship quickly.

I came to know you,
and the worst parts of you.

You lied so beautifully;
Manipulation to a fine perfection.  

Still I followed you,
opened my heart up and fell weak.

You used me all up.
Drained me out;
Out of patience, out of friendship, out of love.

Everybody hated you.
They still hate you, and now I do too.
Phoebe Hynes May 2015
Dandelions are the most independent flower.
They grow where they want.
No one plants them.
They’re free.
They’re infinite.
I felt infinite picking them in the apple orchard with you.
We were free.
We were infinite.  
I couldn't handle my smile watching you,
Rip them out of the earth by the handfuls.
Your face was covered in sunshine and pollen.
It might have been the pollen that resembled sunlight.
Regardless,
You emitted the sun in a way I've never seen before.
I refuse to accept that dandelions are weeds,
Because I want to be a dandelion with you.
Innocence  displayed
Like a little girl touching dandelions
. . . a butterfly left behind
lingering on the doorsteps of winter . . .

Time , Time , Time
. . . so elusive , so undefined . . .

we have tried (so) true
(only) we fall so short

Love . . .  an instance in time . . .
. . . so passionate (in it's) displacement
We hope for but it lays like the cross
. . . at Jesus's feet . . .

We bury time , we bury love
We bury ourselves in search of both

The little girl without a sense of time
Knowing only basic love . . .
Tenderness of care . . .
and dandelions

Maybe we are the dandelions of time
Petals of love . , . surrounding each
in it's time . . . falling  . . .
one by one . . .
Like kisses given and taken

Lost to time , in love ,
till the doorsteps of winter
close in and freezes the moment

. . . all alone . . .

Love  . . . time . . . dandelions
Little girls . . . and innocence . . .

Run away as fast as you can
Just trying to figure out what in the Hell happened .
Leah Anne Nov 2014
Just like how the dandelions disperse
with a sudden yet firm kiss of the wind,
I hope these unvoiced feelings of passion,
of longing,
of dreaming,
of loving
will soon be swept away by fate
so it may find its way to flourish
within the tall fences of your own world.
I pick dandelions
in the early spring
when I think of you
She loves me . . .

I cut the rose blooms
in the summer morn
And I am pricked
by the remembrance of you

I walk in the autumn gold
as I shuffle with the agony
of the memory
Yes I do

Now in my winter's demise
I wrap the cloth of your smile
around the cold heart's desire
that I once had for you

There will be no dandelions
this spring
No roses this summer
No leaves of autumn's color
Without the smile of you
gmg Jul 2014
A field of dandelions, sometimes thought as weeds and all too under appreciated, is dotted with tulips. But I don't care for the tulips, I love the yellow dandelions that turn into white puffs that can grant my wishes.
Thoughtful May 2015
we so easily pluck weeds from the garden
because the look unruly and don’t go with the tulips
but in life
we don’t segregate the suicidal, emotional, and unstable
because they are that way
from the steady breathers
we are a world of dandelions
with a rare tulip
because even weeds can be beautiful
Richard j Heby May 2012
quick dandelions
blowing with ease in all wind
are weeds not flowers.

Dandelions change
simply, growing quickly – all
need no tender care.

Roses and tulips
take man's hand, and are rare, hard;
grow with water, sun.

Worthy love: sweet, rare
takes cultivation and care –
unlike weeds: flowers.

Upon the foot of spring, dandelions run
rampant, and weakly – quick, seemed flourished, fun.
Cold the air in morning rain,
Dull the grass and houses plain,
Branches sway in trees so bare,
Little does the world so care.
Clouded gray so clouds go by,
Flowers hide with lonely cries,
Dandelions in frozen earth,
Wait for spring and for their birth.
Snow like slush upon our eyes,
Melts so ***** with no disguise,
Water frozen on ponds so lost,
Winter takes a heavy cost.
Dandelions soon will grace,
With color bright upon this place,
While heat and time renew the earth,
The pretty weeds will prove their worth.
Hxunted Aug 2015
You pick up a dandy lion like a small-slit-prayer, and I watch you close your eyes.
It's warm out but you still wear your sleeves long like a subtle rebellion,
Yet all I see is that flower, and the pressed paleness in your finger tips
As you inhale.
It only took you a moment, like the words were already there before you spoke them,
Before you even bothered to look: all you needed was to close your eyes,
And breathe in to find them.
(Words I will never hear:
Delicate ellipses of closed eyes breathing in,
And opening; exhaling prayers out.)
But they ring in your smile.

"Immolate to what cause?"  I ask, and you make that face filled with annoyance,
Because I've done it again.
(Promise, though, it's not intentional.)
"You don't always have to use big words with me,"
But then you smile back and tell me it's not sacrifice: "It's flower petals
For the wind,"
And I hear the glitter in your voice.  
"It's the tip-toes from wishes, I'm letting them drip:
I'm helping them dance."
And I tell you with my eyes that your full of ****,
But you're just watching those tip-toes DISCO.

One day I ask you what it is you always wish for:
You see, by now, flowers reference you in fear,
But you just sigh saying you couldn't tell me.
You start saying something about carving out a blank slate,
But then the idea mumbles over and you're back on talking about your day.

We're out late somewhere, it's a June night, and summer is starting to sink in.
"Does that sweater keep you warm enough?" I say it mockingly a bit,
as I recline into the hill we're sitting on, and look at my bear arms,
And the tank top hardly covering my torso.
We laugh, through the stale humor we've come accustom to,
And you roll your eyes a bit,
But I can see the depth you're trying to cover-
I don't have to wonder much to know how deep it goes.
"What's it like always being that cold?"
And you lie back into the grass too
Not quite looking at much of anything.
"It's like having a field full of dandelions and nothing to wish for, "
You say in an exhale, and wondering eyes ,
"Like your still habitually searching for them."
And I can't see the glitter in you,
But I can still hear it in your voice,
And I understand that you're just trying to keep yourself wrapped up,
Because further down there's more than empty air pushing on dandelions,
But I don't know if you can believe that.
You see I've wanted to tell you how ironic those flowers are to me.
How I used to see you breathing out wishes into them,
And dropping the stems along with all your other small-slit-battles
That went unseen.  
But now I'm glad I kept my mouth shut.
"But if you could, you know, wish on a dandelion, would it be worth it?"
And you smile, with a laughter that's fresh this time,
Because you see that I might get it now,
"I think dandelions are ugly-
But I pick them in habit, there's something comforting about knowing they're there."

I ask you to take your sweater off,
Because, honestly, just looking at it is making me hot,
And you smiled like the request meant nothing but a joke.
So I left it in the air, like those small-slit-prayers,
And I hoped it'd cut through to something else this time.
"There's more to those dandelions than giving them to the wind you know."
And you look out into the field seeing them all.
"One day, there won't be a single one left,"
"Or one day I'll be warm."
I want to find the right way to tell you that your small-slit-prayers
Were landing wishes in ways you did not know,
But you got in an argument last week,
And it was too much of a struggle for you to see that they're still flowers,
So let them dance across your skin,
And wear those petals like power.
There's moments to let in,
So tell me wishes for them to devour.
Anggun Russell Feb 2012
I see dandelions
they're flying away
while whispering
"we're flying to the moon"
I close my eyes
and whisper too
"I wish I could"

I've been lost
on a strange road,
in a strange place
where I can see dandelions
fly beautifully

They may have no wings
like birds or angels.
They may not be
as beautiful as roses.
But I can't even
blink my eyes.
They're so white,
which means
they're ready to leave
and fly.

And then the wind blows
and they finally fly away.
Cee Valenso May 2016
One, two, three, two, five, seven
Rhythmless feet clad in branded shoes
Adventurous, brazen fingers strolling on wide, voluptuous stalks
Towering sunflowers with wide, voluptuous stalks
Pristine dandelions enticing pairs of hands
Pristine dandelions enticing my pair of hands
And I give in, and I willingly give in
Summer petals weaken the gullible heart
The summer petals abandon the gullible heart
One, two, three, two, five, seven
Rhythmless feet now bare
Adventurous, brazen fingers now dormant

One, two, four, six, eight, ten
Rhythmless feet clad in cheap shoes
Curious fingers strolling on wide, voluptuous stalks
Towering white daisies with wide, voluptuous stalks
Pristine dandelions spring once more
Pristine dandelions enticing my pair of hands
And I give in, yet again I give in
Winter petals capture the derelict heart
The winter petals emulate mirrors after caressing the ramshackle heart
One, two, four, six, eight, ten
Rhythmless feet once again bare, now calloused
Curious fingers now cautious

One, two, two, two, two, two
Rhythmless feet hesitating to be covered
Vacillating fingers mapping the wide, voluptuous stalks
Pristine dandelions surface once more
Pristine dandelions displaying subtle coquetry
And I stall, for heaven's sake, I stall
Fall petals demonstrate its desire to the heart
The fall petals fall but the bitter heart hangs on a silk thread
One, two, two, two, two, two
Rhythmless feet discovers a rhythm
A rhythm so unpleasant, so abhorrent
Vacillating fingers now curl
Curl into the palm in resistance
raðljóst Jan 2013
she was crazy that way,
with her fingers forever crossed,
praying on first stars.
told me she'd make it big
while i thought i saw her chances blow away in the wind
like the eyelashes and dandelions
she wished on with her whole heart.

but dandelions reach further than my mind can,
they plant seeds in the autumn grass,
and every year they multiply.
the hopes of success increase so much more
than any pessimism could ever grow -
because she was crazy enough to know
and i was crazy enough not to believe.
kris evans May 2014
cusp a dandelion in your hands.....
close your eyes.....
and blow the spores away.....
make a wish....
and believe it will come true  one day......
coz when you look at me you can either see hundreds of spores .....
OR MANY DORMANT WISHES WAITING TO SPROUT....
j Dec 2013
if dandelions sprouted from my chest
and cherry blossoms sprouted from yours
I think the reason we cannot be one
would become evident immediately

I am unwanted,
plucked away and hidden at first sight
left to die, hoping my return never comes
as though I was never there to begin with

you, the weary blossom
showing your face in the smallest intervals
your sighting a blessing, to all that see
leave your adoring fans, wanting more

I wish for more of you too, you know
I yearn deeply, each waking hour
that you would attempt to cover your beauty
                         only temporarily
and I could cover my unsightly anatomy
                         maybe permanently
and we could love one another
for just a day

my heart in your hands
and your hands in my hair
our lips pressed together
your blossoming chest
and my unwanted greenery
no longer in the way
just tickling a little
when our bodies merge as one
CRH Oct 2013
I want to rest.

I want to be Earth-
my skin, loose soil,
yellow button dandelions
pushing through
the dirt in my chest,
as puddles fill my outstretched hands
while my hair twists into the roots of trees;
and the wind picks up
to scatters pieces of me
side by side
the dandelion seeds.
Catch me.
Miranda Renea Jan 2014
Dandelions still the night with kisses,
Teasing the wind at my lips;
It isn't too wise to wish-
But oh! Dandelion Moonrise,
What are your wishes?
Collette Wilson Jan 2012
I.

sometimes my thoughts are like
dead dandelions

fragile
delicate

and it only takes a breath
to lose them.

II.**

sometimes my thoughts are like
dead dandelions

fertile
intricate

and it only takes a breath
to use them.
Amanda May 2014
Remember that day
When we picked dandelions
And my wish was you
Haiku?
raingirlpoet Oct 2014
i'll make a wish on every dead dandelion i find
blowing my dreams away on every seed
hoping that they'll flutter away in the wind so far away from me and i'll hope that life may sprout from the ghosts of my past
why do we wish on dead dandelions?
why do i find them so hauntingly beautiful
i wish on dead dandelions
and their magic
i pluck them gently out of the ground and
****** my wishes upon them
i whisper
godspeed, dandelion
i'm relying
on you
Alyssa Wilson Jul 2012
I feel like a little girl running with dandelions,
Their seeds spilling behind me
So that when I give them to you
Nothing remains but the stems
And you love them anyway.
But I’m in tears.
Richard j Heby Aug 2012
It's not the time of dandelions;
they've all been blown away;

those fragile fragments now remind
the shooting stars of day.

And though the seedlings blown away seem gone;
they float as static light and air along
as pieces of a never ending earth –
a universe recycling its dearth.

All matter is
and always is.
A dandelion
may be his

smile. And think – drink water from your sink –
it may be reimagined stars you drink.
tranquil Sep 2014
in imperfect creases on fabric of minutes
like colours jostling in a kaleidoscope
and in eyes of seamless auroras
we long to be free blooming dandelions
Rory Herd Jul 2013
Dandelions

They drift in the breeze
Bright petals swaying to a golden-yellow melody
Their fair hews blend together as one
Ones garden becomes a ray of sunlight, in dance
Moving to and fro with Mother Natures breath
In her ***** they rock
Their colours a precious gem, alive and unclaimable
Their sight like honey for the spirit
Their growth a gift from the soil, given freely and with joy
Beloved Dandelion
Something I wrote as a joke in my 6th form biology class.
Tumbling-hair
              picker of buttercups
                                   violets
dandelions
And the big bullying daisies
                             through the field wonderful
with eyes a little sorry
Another comes
              also picking flowers
Carley Aug 2014
And she put
Dandelions
In her hair
Instead of daisies
Because there is nothing
More pure
Than a beautiful blossom
Reaped
From horrid imperfections.  
-CsR
Kara MacLean Nov 2010
A decomposition of carbon atoms

To mother nature as we came

Back to where life started from

From Earths crust to the rain


Remember that field of dandelions?

Every tree once bare grew buds

A group of us laid on our backs

Our feet were stained with traces of mud


We didn’t even need to talk

We only needed to exist

So one who travels up to heaven

Will be silent knowing this


A decomposition of carbon atoms

A person we loved we lost

His body cold, his hands lost touch

Our spirits pay the cost


For every tear we ever shed

For every saddened glance

For every dandelion in one field

This life is our one chance


There we lay in that same field

This time the stars shined bright

The dandelions have closed their buds

They’ve gone home for the night

by: Kara MacLean
by: Kara MacLean
Genevieve H Jan 2010
It's no longer snowing, but dandelions float dead through the air,
landing on the wet soil soul I keep
while my skin is crunching deep.

I have no one to sing about.
Feel I have no one to sing about.
I want someone to sing about after you.
You don't deserve this.

Memories of faces flushed and close play on the wall.
I'm thinking of all I could say,
But the projector clicks and strains from jamming in my head-
It's driving me insane.

And though I tried to stop I lost my reason
With you and the changing season.

I can't remember your smell, still,
I bloodied my fingernails to dig you from my skin.

I have no one to sing about.
Feel I have no one to sing about.
I want someone to sing about after you.
You don't deserve this.
Kimber May 2019
young hands picked dandelions
for their mothers and their fathers.
they pick, and pick, and pick
until a bouquet forms in their hands
because their family deserves
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.

young hands tie together the dandelions
to form necklaces and rings,
to form crowns to go along with their bright kingdom,
because there are so many of them,
and because royalty must wear
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.

young minds look up to their older cousin
with a crown of flowers and a bouquet held high,
but the older cousin is drowning,
and he has been dulled by the world,
so he throws down the bouquet,
and knocks off the crown.

and you'll cry,
because you wanted to give him
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.

the cousin will take away part of your light
to break it to you that dandelions are not flowers;
they are weeds.

and forever after,
the world will be a little bit more dull,
and the yellow will seem less bright,
the smile on your face will shrink a bit more,
the twinkle in your eye will start to fade.

but maybe if you opened your mind again,
you could notice that dandelions are still beautiful.
refuse to let the world take the things you love
and ruin them.
remember that in your young mind,
you once believed that dandelions were
only the brightest, most beautiful of flowers.
Olivia Oct 2012
the way your lips
and your eyes
make my skin grow scarlet
and my insides stir
the planes of your face
as I caress my fingers across your
cheekbones,
your eyelids,
the skin behind your ear and the
muscles under the sheer cotton of your shirt
they make me want to do to you what
a summer breeze does to the dandelions
Kristen Lowe May 2014
Little dandelions poked their heads out of the graveyard in my chest
And proclaimed to the permafrost and broken branches
That they weren't afraid of death

So my ribcage shook, the structure burst, the foundation crumbled in
And the dandelions laid flat, made foolish
Never to be seen again
Jo de Guzman May 2014
you said you can be my dandelion
               more than willing to make my wishes come true
          and just like what dandelions do
               making my wishes stay as wishes forever
         you fail me too, just like what dandelions do
Paul Maclean Mar 2012
My feelings are like dandelions.

Like ones in the spring
they can be linked
together in a chain
loosely held together
in a moment
tenuously connected.

but they are more like their fall counterparts, seemingly rooted, but blown away by a slight breeze

a field can be covered by hundreds yet they do not define the field
nor does the field define them.
what are my feelings if not definitively me?

like wispy dandelion seeds, soon to be more
but perfect in their imperfect potential
they are ephemeral fragments projected by heart and mind

my feelings are dandelions. i am not a dandelion.

i am a creator of dandelions and of fields and of breezes. of chains and of seeds.
i am the master of my universe.
i am the master of everything and i am the master of nothing.

i am the master of dandelions.
Ar Jan 2015
She ran into the forest.
They detested her,
even if she just did her best.
She found a spot, under a tree.
Dots of silver teased her,
"Come, see me."
With sweaty hands,
she picked with a swift gesture.
She held, it collapsed,
"What could I've done wrong?"
She took another, this time with caveat.
Still, it fell apart, in a usual format.

"Am I that destructive?"
She asked herself.

"No. Look."

The steady beads of pearls were, dancing?
Piles of rubble lifted to the sky,
like stars in the early morning.
The wind lingered, blew them quite gently
Magnificence is painted around the vivid scene she's seeing.
She inhaled every beauty.
Then, exhaled every shattered dream.

"You're right, whoever you are,
There's still beauty in breaking."
For those who are misunderstood
David N Juboor Dec 2015
My mom
Tells me I'm a gift.

She says love
Is what keeps the atoms
In you and I
Is the moment
She caught my
Father's eye
Is the day
My grandfather died
With a candy kiss on his cheek
She had never tasted something so sweet.

When we were little
We played kickball,
The ground is lava
And hide-and-go-seek.
As I grew I knew most days,
It was harder to find myself;
Let alone somebody else.

And I have been around
Enough center city playgrounds
To see the rich
Pump every bit of spare change
In their veins fighting
A cancer that they
Never learned to put in their past.
To see the poor
Wage wars with themselves
Trying to pick up
Way too much,
Way too fast;

Nobody really knows how to make love last.

So put your prism your heart
Beneath the moonlight.
Refract the wavelengths
Of your wonders
Into ROYGB-eautiful like the sea,
It took a lot of jellyfish to let
people see through me.

And even more mirrors
To find a place I was comfortable
Praying in.

Fraying in doorways
Where I learned hope,
Is looking both ways
On a one way street
Cause it can be so easy to thank God
While you still have bread to eat.

I have never prayed
So hard for a healthy meal
Than the days I remember
The heart is a muscle;
And sometimes the only
Thing we need
Is to "work it out."

And I know that some days,
My doubt hangs my
Smile like Jesus Christ
I never quite learned
How to bleed right.

But if there's one thing
I found from cleaning
The crosses out of the
Empty hallway of my character
Is that you haven't experienced loss
Until you've held two outstretched arms
For years waiting for your innocence to come back.
Nothing, weighs more than the guilt of your past
And nothing throws punches
Faster than the ghost of who you used to be.

And I know it's hard
To stop looking for yourself
Under every bed you
Left nightmares in
And I know it's hard
To be comfortable
In your own skin

But sometimes bars
Aren’t the only thing
That builds a cage
And sometimes
The only way to live
With yourself
Is to stop digging
Your own grave.

You can spend years
Listening to morticians
And never get grounded.
Surrounded by the
Square roots we all share,
By the same air,
We've all got to learn to let go.

To learn that
Holding your breath
Has never been how
Living things
Learn to
Grow
"We're all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we're going to die, each of us secretly believing we won't"
euphonious Dec 2016
I can see those dandelions
and how they were dancing,
to the serene bliss of wind
whispering,
unctuous promises.

though the dandelions
were confused,
as to why
the wind did that.

I can hear the wind sighed
and blow a gentle soothe
to those dandelions.

I asked,
why would they fall
for the ingratiating wind?

oh, dear.
how ghost-quiet it tasted?
as I put the question mark
back at the wind,
and hold those flowers
to keep their hearts save.

the wind
stopped blowing at last,
leaving every petal on their own
without lies,
without anymore promises.

all I can hear now is
the beautiful chorus of content
filling up as the wind,
replacing it.

I let these dandelions
plant theirselves
and grow,
without relying
on the whispering wind.
now the dandelions have grown,
with their own anchors.
Deanna Jun 2013
No matter how hard she tried
she could not be like them.
They had sunflowers,
She had dandelions.
Their words flowed,
Her words stumbled.
They moved gracefully like a poem,
She moved like a broken sentence
with awkward pauses and a clumsy pace.

Oh how she longed to be like them,

Oh how she longed.
hj Jan 2019
In my dreams
I've kissed you
A couple hundred times
Melted into your embrace
And sank in your ocean eyes
In my dreams I have loved you
Like Romeo loved Juliet
Like Jack loved Rose
Like Elizabeth Loved Darcy
unconditionally
In my dreams
I am all yours
And you're all mine
In my dreams
We don't break apart when we fight
In my dreams
No matter how far we are
Our souls still collide
In my dreams
We had no worries
We had a happy life
In my dreams
We sipped wine and roses
watching the sun fall and rise
In my dreams
I could hold you
I could feel you
I could touch you
I could touch your soul
But lately
I've been losing sleep
I've been losing sleep
I tried taking pills
I tried counting sheep
But no matter how hard I try
They way back into love I can't find
Our love became like a puzzle missing a peice
And if I could i would burn all the puzzles I built when I was young to find a way back to you
I don't know if the fear of losing love means I love you
I don't know what's going on
Is it me
Is it you
Is it both of us
Is it the world
Or the wrong universe
What is going on with us
We were the two that the world watched in wonder
The world watches and pities our souls now
What is wrong with us
Why is this happening
And I swear if it was the universe
I would pull us into another universe
May god praise us the dandelions in love
But just like dandelions
We are delicate
And I guess the wind blew across both of us
So our pieces scattered
And I look and wonder
What has the wind wished for
My baby
May angels protect the dandelions
With there shinning wings
May we find the way to love
And if we don't
I'll always look at the picture of two dandelions blown away by the wind
And I'll smile
Because maybe that's how love begins
When the pieces scatter into a multiverse
And find you and me
Another you and me
Bless these two
May angels guard them
May they set history
For the two in love
The love that never breaks you see
And may the angels sing a sad song
For the two
Who
Fell out of love

— The End —