Dandelion De La Rue

Spirit Heroes On the Wall Poem by Dandelion De La Rue

by

 

Spirit Heroes on the Wall

 

Another hero

dead and gone

200 years

before I met him

met his gaze

a portrait on

the museum wall

his eyes

so bold

so sad.

 

Do I know you

Juan Jose?

I feel as though I

know you

very well.

 

Have I met

your restless spirit

in a dream?

Dead heroes sometimes

come and go

or so they say

surprising those who

thought them

ordinary.

Appearing, and then

disappearing

back into the mists.

 

If once I knew you

Juan Jose,

I hope that

I was brave enough

to be your friend.

 

Juan Jose Rondon, is the guys name, the one who I THINK the picture is of.  I googled him and everything is in Spanish, but I THINK he was in a calvary, for the rebels (Bolivar, trying to get rid of Spain).  He’d originally been Venezuelan, son of slaves, and joined the Spanish army, but didn’t like the Spanish, thought they were cruel, so he took off and joined the rebels in Colombia.  Anyway, Bolivar was losing a big battle, and all would be lost, when Juan Jose said, why haven’t you asked us to help?  and Bolivar said, “Go then, and save the country!”  So Juan Jose yelled “Those who are brave, follow me!”  and 9 guys followed him, and they won, and saved the day for the good guys.  I think before the battle, he and his friends were taking care of the horses or something.

dandelion de la rue  June 18, 2012  Bogota’

Seashells poem by Daisy Sidewinder

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Sea Carneys – poem by Daisy Sidewinder

Sea carnivals call to me, carnivals
carried by the wandering carney waves
to land and back
around the globe
trading bits of driftwood
seashells and jellyfish
with each other
glittering sunlight hiding surprises
crashing and splashing
driven by the moon and wind
tossing themselves at the world
with foamy glee
breaking up on the shore
tickling the toes of little children
lapping at the sides of pirate ships
always singing the songs of the waves

They ignore the words of
fearful doldrums
warning words from those
holding tight to every drop
jealously guarding
every grain of salt and sand
warning the waves to come back
warning them to stay away from shores
where they’ll be broken to bits
and have to crawl back into the sea
in pieces becoming
the bagladies and hobos of the deep
scrounging for their lost bits
to recreate themselves.

Stay here in the doldrums, they say,
where you’re safe
imprisoned in safety
so that you may live
to fear again.

But a wave, having crashed against a distant shore
doesn’t mind
recreating itself.
***

Corn Cake Lady Poem by Dandelion de la Rue

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The Corn Cake Lady

 

The predawn sidewalk

gray and cold

just me, just me

and a thin brown dog

sniffing at a

pile of motley treasure.

I stumble by

hoping he has

struck it rich.

 

But up ahead,

some warmth waves deck the

grim gray sky.

The corn cake lady

street grill sizzling

flipping corn cakes

filled with thick

and gooey cheese,

so hot, so greasy,

so strong.

 

The sidewalk’s warmer now,

and happier,

as I move on,

Eating half

And leaving half

for the thin brown dog.

 

dandelion de la Rue May 30,  2012

 

It’s Spring Poem by Marilyn McIntyre

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It’s Spring Poem

It’s spring here
or so they tell us
the squirrels don’t care
the weather’s not sure

Summer’s coming
always is, at the equator
deer rummage the forest floor
foxes bathe their pups
and the sun knows

Somewhere it’s autumn
the birds nest anyhow
dandelions grow, smiling
the grass stands up and moves
I, myself feel cool

Winter at the Pole
geese hiss their goslings
into bluebells, dancing
and the stream rushes along
he knows where he’s going

Spring is here
again without a timepiece
nature lets loose her bounty
the ice slinks into the water
time and infinity know.

Copyright © 1998 by Marilyn McIntyre, All rights reserved

Waiting for the Someday Bus Poem by Dandelion de la Rue.

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Waiting for the Someday Bus
by Dandelion de la Rue.

Maybe that bus
is coming someday
while we just wait
lazy on the
grass and curb and
turned-over newspaper box
listening to the clean lady
with the new bus schedule
and new blue shoes
saying Bus is Coming
Bus is coming
Bus is surely
coming now.

We talk, slow.
One Tooth Boy
shows us his
spider bite
and the old
man hums and nods
and smiles and
there’s a blues beat
somewhere
that bus is
surely coming
someday
we all say
and we’ll all
get on and go
somewhere
sometime soon.

***