Free verse № 35986
The Poem of an Eighth-Grader
I feel sad as a dandelion
losing yellowness fast
a setting sun, an evening of a flower.
Wispy grey hair is all that remains
that disappear with a child's weakest breath.
Blow and little dead dancers fall, scatter,
but it's okay, little girl,
the seeds will plant themselves.
4 comments
okay, adult crticism, since you posted on an adult site:
dandelions don't lose color at night; they close up. it's really cool to watch. so, lesson #1: write about what you know. that being said, the 'help' page on this site has some great references. this is one of my favorites:
http://www.uni.edu/english/craft/imagery
keep up the good work!
that being said, I am 30 yrs old, and I found this poem in an 8th grade journal of mine. I know they don't lose color at night; I think the "fading" bit was meant as a metaphor to the death of the flower and gradual reinvention to seed pod. Adult to elder.
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