Dandelion De La Rue

ode to cobra poem by Daisy Sidewinder

by

ODE TO COBRA

 

I didn’t notice

my wrinkles,

or the gray,

or the gravity,

much,

but young Cobra

noticed

and with sympathy

and kindness

showing in his

pretty eyes

pretty boy eyes

he smiled with all

the radience of

a toothpaste commercial.

I can take the stress

from your lovely face

he murmured

brushing the silver

gently from my brow

for a reasonable fee

because I like you

so much.

 

 

Does this mean

I’ve reached

“a certain age?”

Have I reached the age

of advertising smiles

and deference

on the beach

from friendly young men

with guileless eyes

and open hands?

I have always been

curious.

I have always wanted

to meet a gigolo.

I didn’t expect a gigolo

to want to meet me.

– Daisy Sidewinder

.

to Daisy
to Moongate

 

 

Musketeers of Illusion Poem by Dandelion De La Rue

by

Always the coldness
creeping in
disturbing the warmth
of my illusions,
illusions of
d’Artagnan seeking
one for all and
all for one
true friends
warm love
risking all.

For them
the musketeers
there were no borders drawn
between them,
they knew that
borders don’t exist
imaginary lines
drawn in the mists
of paranoia.

But they
the musketeers
are only my
illusions,
now.

Like them
I drift into
invisibility
missing them
I have become
a nonexistent
border
separating love
and despair.

Dreaming Tiger Poem by Dandelion De La Rue

by

Dreaming Dream Tiger

The dreaming tiger
clung to me
his paws around my neck
his head, his silky head
upon my shoulder
eyes closed
cat smile,
weightless in his dreaming body
but warm, so warm.
I gently stroked his head.

He likes you
said the voice
the mystery voice
that comes to me sometimes
and I was glad.
I liked the tiger
too.

I rode the tiger
in my weightless dreaming body
and with him
nonchalantly strolled
as only cats can stroll
through magic forests
never looking down
or to the side
but only straight ahead.
We walk with
confidence
and strength.

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

by

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

by

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