John Allen Richter
Dandelions - Poem by John Allen Richter
Dandelions sparkle in the green -
landing pads for little bees...
Busy, busy, busy bees -
fluttering in the wind.
Mustn't be late for tonic and gin...
or those other things within -
The days, the life, the love, the death...
Brewing, growing, shrinking - decay -
the grave is where we finally lay -
But first lust zooms in like hormonal zest!
Greed rules each roost as ducks in a row
and life seems grand while we snare our souls
and laugh and drink and think - we are one.
Foremost the party - Mad Hatter table, good man!
Pass the pitcher round - drink our fill -
While only we at the table share love -
as those outside are others -
unnecessary souls who matter not!
They are but a blur in our memory go 'round!
As we bounce upon our painted horses
- and camels and ostrich -
mired in awe of breast and ass -
Ever reaching for the golden ring...
Farther, and farther -
until we slip off the horse and ground by gears -
And then immutable and forgotten death -
makes us hate each repetitive breath -
in finality where nothing survives -
for lust - for greed -
of physical things now gone....
And we - with no painted horse -
and only memories of fleeting things...
that the soul can not fathom.
But I love you.
And that - dear Margaret Alice -
goes beyond the grave......
and into heavenly things....
Where dandelions are forever yellow buttercups...
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