Through Blue Skies Or Grey
through blue skies or grey watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds souls through wonder ranges
yellow petals one day transform into white honeycomb
fade into spectral preparation seeds in readiness to roam
dandelion seeds are spun web silk threads of freedom life
carried away by gust breath of wind or child’s puff glow spice
tiny silk stem parachute flowers, freedom launch breath awaiting
to travel like tiny parachutes, on breeze wind wonder never abating
strong wind can carry tiny flower parachutes, miles away from parent
plant yet freedom seed flying stays, within wonder of any vision heart
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bright Yellow Petal Flowers Imagination Showers
in life I never drank dandelion wine
for sour grapes bitter tastes I had no time
upon rich green grass map child like flowers
bright yellow petal flowers imagination showers
through blue skies or grey watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds souls through wonder ranges
yellow petals one day transform into white honeycomb
fade into spectral preparation seeds in readiness to roam
dandelion seeds are spun web silk threads of freedom life
carried away by gust breath of wind or child’s puff glow spice
tiny silk stem parachute flowers, freedom launch breath awaiting
to travel like tiny parachutes, on breeze wind wonder never abating
strong wind can carry tiny flower parachutes, miles away from parent
plant yet freedom seed flying stays, within wonder of any vision heart
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream Flight Tiny Flowers
a dandelion dazzles
bright yellow petals
set among soft blades
green grass carpets
flowers waiting host bees
in pollen quest flights
petals fade to dreams
dandelion transcends
really to harness winds
assumes new dimensions
aeronautical aspirations
tiny flowers bunched seeds
together dream lift flights
to distant diverse fields
dandelion purpose blooms
dream flight tiny flowers
produce seed parachutes
compass aline on heavens
choose navigation stars
rich green grass maps
imagination showers
through blue skies
or grey black storms
watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds
souls dance time changes
through wonder ranges
yellow petals subtle changes
one day transformation clicks
into white honeycomb wishes
fades into spectral stems
preparations need seeds
in readiness to roam skies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Visions In Flight
travel tiny parachutes
strong wind carry parachutes
freedom flying visions
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Duplicated Dandelion Diversity
what is a dandelion?
upon examination
a mini map mystery
wind reproductive diversity
multiple magnificent
miniaturized flowers
many tiny flight flower arrows
arranged symmetry reality
each tiny flower perceives
forms composite flower head
hundreds of yellow florets
upper layers raised to sky
butter cup yellow bright light
flower heart warms inflorescence
lower layers enlarge spread
curve down bow in symmetry
bright yellow bewitches souls
set off in contrast rich green grass
delights hearts walking grass blades
delights hearts walking green imagery
leaves form a rosette above central taproot
yellow to orange coloured flower heads spread
open in ray stream daytime close sleep night
flower heads mature spherical clocks spy
soon host birth transformations
real flowers wax dandelion blooms
each single flower head floret prepares
each seed stem attached white threads fluffy
cypselae on dandelion clock ticks
matured capitulum await breezes winds
to disperse in wind seed birth rights
hair-like calyx tissue waits above each ovary
each tiny flower has produced a seed
white spectral seed head manifests
design wonder delights child hands
dimensional layers link preflight mystery
seeds produce asexually by apomixes
where without pollination are produced seeds
offspring identical to the parent plants
resulting in offspring identical genetically
mystery mystery raptures in dandelions
strong breezes winds produce dandelion snows
run in fields as expand lift seed parachutes
seed-bearing parachutes create flower destiny
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Freedom Breath Launches
tiny green silk stems
parachute dandelion flowers
freedom breath launches
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Imagination Freedom Seeds
dandelion imagination seeds
are spun web silk threads
chance freedom life potentials
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Vision Wonder Seeds
breeze wind wonder seeds
freedom seeds vision flying stays
within wonder of vision hearts
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Clones Cannot Escape Windows
clone people have sold access
to knowledge beauty pain bliss
in pursuit of electronic clone lives
playing enslaved computer games
wearing out eyes tired body sitting
emotions adrenaline buzz running
knowing nothing of call wild places
experience dating freedom thoughts
even in a simple field of green grasses
wind kisses every leaf or insect passes
in journeys soft whispering singing
come run dance with me adventures
await in every sunbeam illuminating
hold as a child pick dandelion spheres
ghost frail transparent potentialities
are illusions life seeds promises sails
await lips to soft blow feathered leaves
tiny seed-bearing parachutes scattering
blow hard blow cotton seed wind snows
fertile wind will blow forth life stems
even if clones cannot escape windows
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ephemeral Wishes Take Flight
yellow petals subtle changes
one day transformation clicks
into white honeycomb wishes
fades into spectral stems
preparations need seeds
in readiness to roam skies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Gust Cotton Seed Wind Snows
dandelion remain herald mystic envoys
empire expand into new territories
honour all seed dispersed ruderals
who restore beauty to poor wastes
where once was barren life emerges
ruderals rapidly colonize wastelands
dandelion colour paint disturbed soils
yellow orange canopy veils delights
poet in appreciation walk restored fields
dandelion bright yellow bewitches souls
set off hues contrast in rich green grass
delights hearts soft walking grass blades
delights hearts walking nature's hue skins
surfaces stretch into infinite possibilities
even after flowering is finished smiles
dandelion flower head multiple rebirths
for entombed day or two flower head dries
is this husk death as fall off petals stamens?
miracles move bracts reflex curve backwards
into full sphere tiny parachute ball opens
expand lift ready seed-bearing parachutes
feathered leaves now cotton seed wind snows
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Apology to a Dandelion
Dressed in luxuriant yellow
You can find her everywhere.
She crops up in green meadows
And well-manicured lawns
In picayune cracks of aged walls
Or along concrete sidewalks
In the heart of downtown
‘Dent de lion' the lion's tooth.
Some call her Wild Endive.
An admirable and humble flower
In spring her strong taproots
Send up through naked stems
Dazzling bright and intrepid blossoms
And white botanical lactic juice.
Kind, gentle and beautiful Dandelion
She is spiritual and eccentric
A celibate perennial wild plant
That has refused to live a sex life.
Her ovaries produce fertile seeds
Without having to be pollinated.
Her yellow flowers slowly turn
Into silvery white puffballs
Fitted with tufts that fly in the wind
Like a myriad of tiny parachutes.
Why are we so cruel to her?
She is so peaceful, tender and charming
A marvel of nature, tonic and stimulant
The medicinal plant ‘taraxacum officinale'.
She promotes health and removes poisons
And can be turned
Into fabulous salad greens
Or even into tea and wine.
So why do we hate her so much?
Why do we kill her in our gardens?
Why do we poison her
With deadly chemicals
Which harm Mother Earth and Us?
O, gracious dandelion
I ask for your forgiveness and apologize.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The parachute
I get a brown parachute
and make sure that it’s folded right,
strap it to my back
and feel that it fits well.
You must make certain
that a parachute
can carry weight,
if it’s a parachute
I accompany a troop of soldiers
into a aeroplane
that takes of roaring from the runway
and we fly higher and higher
until the light first flashes red
and then green
and the aircrafts engines stop
while my heart beats in my throat
I get my turn
to stand at the open door
and see how the landscape
flashes past like a picture
beneath me.
Then I break through the wind
and count wordless
before my hand finds the pull string
and I fly on wings of silk
that folds open and draws me up.
The world lies small beneath me
and the wind swishes gale strong
and in my thoughts I fly up into the sky
past other parachutes
and the aircraft
while the clouds fold around me
and I go through the stratosphere
Later it gets chillier
and I can hardly breath
and I must be near
the mesosphere
In the vacuum around me
the earth lies
like a blue-white ball
at my feet
and I am past the thermosphere
and around me I see the universe
with stars and planets without number.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Globe Of Parachutes
Dandelion seeds float upwards on the wind,
Climbing high and cruising lazily on.
Downy tufts of canopies so fine,
Each one gliding out of sight, and gone.
A cycle repeated every year the same,
Colonizing the ground with fresh new plants,
As we with a puff of breath, disturb the globe
Of parachutes, and so assist their dance.
Bright vibrant blooms in banks and meadows found.
Yellow spheres, illuminate eye and mind.
Such optimists who bravely shine their gold,
Across out land, a feast for all to find.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Freedom Is…
Freedom…
Freedom…
What is freedom?
It’s a footprint in the sand…
A whisper on the wind.
It’s a thought…
An emotion.
It’s a choice…
A gift.
Freedom is what freedom is.
Freedom is a pot on the stove…
The water in a glass.
It’s a smile on a mouth…
A tear on the cheek.
It’s a choice…
A gift.
Freedom is what freedom is.
Freedom is a breeze in your hair…
The heat in the air.
It’s the heart in your chest…
The veins in your arms.
It’s a choice…
A gift.
Freedom is what freedom is.
What is freedom?
Freedom is what freedom is.
poem by Stacey Stevens
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Dandelion Seeds Space Flights Bloom
God blows dandelion seeds
into wind bound horizons
little children delight screams
leap frog into flight jumbo jets
aeronautical aspirations seeds
dream lift flights runway fields
choose navigation star flight maps
thoughts minds souls space ranges
poem by Terence George Craddock
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354
reedom
what shape is freedom?
a flicker
on the candle in the dark night
the wind blows
and the flicker moves anywhere
the wind goes
freedom?
the strong wind puts the light out
on a single blow
freedom?
the candle knows how to make its own flame
and lets go some of its melting matter
freely flowing its own body
consuming itself
down the drain
to its foot
like tears
the molten drops slide
and solidify
taking some shapes
misconceived
unassigned by us
freedom?
the freedom to take our own shapes
the freedom to consume ourselves
the freedom to be finally
extinguished
freedom.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am the Wind
I am the Wind,
I am a personification of freedom.
The whole Earth presents my kingdom.
That only one can be my wife
whose soul is free,
who understands my life.
Trust me and I’ll show you what freedom is.
But…don’t be in a hurry, please.
My gift of freedom is eternity,
it comes together with paternity.
My breathing is the God’s touch.
Just close your eyes
and you will feel so much.
I will open to you my face,
I will show you the grace
of the waves in the oceans and fields
made by my tender and elusive breath.
I will walk up and down your dress,
I will leave on your lips a hot kiss,
I will show your heart how to fly,
In my timid hugs you will never die.
I am the Wind,
I am refractory and love freedom,
I am the wonderer,
the Wind of wisdom.
I am an experienced lover.
Together with birds I hover
and then turn into a crazy hurricane.
The strength and power are in my vein.
Yes, my mood is so changeable,
but for you I can be so loveable.
Why my beauty you turned red?
I am yours. Aren’t you glad?
Don’t turn away your head!
I don’t know the word ‘no’.
If you don’t like me I will go.
But…if you give me your hand
I will show you the whole Land,
I will teach you the troubles to withstand.
I will fill your heart with love and belief,
you’ll be able to walk on any relief,
you will know how the seeds to sift,
freedom will be my wedding gift.
I am the Wind.
I am a personification of freedom.
It flows in my veins.
It will forever be retained.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Pity The Violets
in the desert
some tiny flowers grow
the sands are blown by the wind
and we cover our eyes
we do not want to be harmed
we continue walking
in the desert some tiny
violets still grow as tiny as sand
no wind is that so cruel
to blow them all away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Liberty & freedom
From your first breath you are captured,
institutionalized, regimented.
Liberty, what is this?
Is it that long sleep we call death?
Even then they nail your coffin down
for fear you may escape.
Here, take this air and hold it
in your lungs, imprison it,
keep it within you, then exhale.
You cannot hold it,
chain it to your side,
it is the wind and will be free.
It creeps through door hinges,
tiny cracks, closed windows.
It knows no boundaries
it is freedom personified
and happily present all about you
dancing, blowing
Someday you will escape your chains
and ride upon the wind,
in your chariot where all souls sit
and dodge poor fettered mortals.
They will only see white clouds
that rush on by.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Inspiration.
There's a wind that sweeps through the day and night,
And like the lightning goes,
But none have heard the sound of its wings,
And none know whither it blows;
But where'er it comes the thoughts of men
Are like clouds together hurled,
As they are carried with mystic speed
Over the crazy world.
We see no waving of leafy boughs,
Nor heave of the purple sea;
When this wind its fiercest blows, the Earth
May be still as the dead men be;
But the spirit feels its fiery breath
And the souls of men are stirr'd,
As o'er the mesmeric lines of life
Is flashed the magic word.
The gale from the Spirit-land blows in,
And they who feel it glow
With an ecstasy and ardour like
The seers of long ago —
The vital and inspiring breath
With which ideas are sown,
Like visioned seeds, in the mystic soil
Where the spirit-flowers are grown!
poem by Robert Crawford
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