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It’s Dandelion Season!

May 4, 2013

The fields are yellow with dandelions – and soon they’ll be white with them, as their seedheads wait for the wind to spread them. That’s if we don’t get there first, blowing the clocks to find out what time it is. Children and poets love dandelions. So do I (even if I have spent a lot of this week digging them out of the lawn)!

Little wonder, then, that I chose poems about dandelions in both anthologies that I compiled recently. First, in the RSPB Anthology of Wildlife Poems, Alison Chisholm calls her dandelion poem Ladette – “Brash gold sticks out its tongue”, while Gerard Benson’s A Green Stink describes “aggressive little suns, yellow without compromise”.

Then, in A Time to Speak and A Time to Listen (where touchy-feely dandelion heads grace the cover), there’s Sue Cowling’s Dandelion Time — “Time blown / Not shown / By hands”.

And here’s my newly written dandelion poem, inspired by a dandelion that I found growing right through the drainage hole in the base of a flower pot, left out over winter at the bottom of the garden. As you see in the photo, only the tall stem and flowerhead are visible. The leaves that appear in my poem are there by ‘poetic licence’.

copyright Celia Warren 2013   dandelions © Celia Warren 2013

Doughty Dandelion

Admire the doughty dandelion,
groping in the dark,
growing blind, determined to be seen;
through prison pot it finds a hole,
a skylight in the soil,
from which to sprout its toothy, leafy green.

Its taproots long, however slight
its stem or flower may be;
it’s yellow, yes, but not the least afraid;
each plant will fight for sun and air
in any nook or crack;
its shoots will cut through tarmac like a blade.

Each specimen, however small
or spindly it may seem,
will find a place to flower and spread its seed.
Admire the doughty dandelion;
no dungeon underground
has ever stopped this plant we call a weed.

poem © Celia Warren 2013

2 Comments leave one →
  1. May 4, 2013 04,05,13

    Celia, I love this entire post, and especially your new dandelion poem. My own lawn is graced with them every month of the year, and I’ve lately begun documenting that with photos. I wouldn’t even think of trying to dig them out or attack them with “weed” chemicals. I love to see them everywhere. You may remember my verses in limerick style about March dandelions that I wrote some years ago. Love to you and many thanks for this great Poetry Box post! Mary

    • May 4, 2013 04,05,13

      Funnily enough, Mary, as I dug them out I thought of you, remembering your fondness of dandelions! I’m the mistress of compromise, though; I leave as many as I remove. Thanks for your kind comment.

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