field of dandelions, photo by Philip Halling‘Dandelions’: A Poem by Cynthia Erlandson The Society May 21, 2024 Beauty, Poetry 34 Comments . Dandelions “…all the days of his vain life, which he passes like a shadow….” —Ecclesiastes 6: 12 . ____As I stepped out one morning, ____I saw across the lawn ____A yellow audience watching ____The spreading light of dawn ____As last night’s black was turning ____To purple-pink. The sun ____Was not at the horizon ____Quite yet; yet, looking down, ____I thought it must have risen, ____Because the gold, unmown, ____New dandelions shocked my eyes ____Like many tiny suns. __Or else, an unseen magic wand __Had turned green lawns to blinding blonde ____Young heads; they all were nodding ____In April’s festive wind, ____As if they were applauding ____The colorful surprise ____Of daybreak’s vibrant skies. . ____A few sunrises later, ____When fiery dawn had faded, ____I looked across the crowded ____Front lawn. No yellow-hatted ____Sky-watchers celebrated ____The day. Now, all gray-headed, ____They looked much less elated— ____And out of the blue, I was stunned ____By the stark reflection that dawned __On me (as if these short-lived flowers __Had turned into unwanted mirrors): ____I would be gray and old ____Some day. Their low-slung cloud ____Hung still above the yard; ____It cast a ghostly shroud ____Upon an aging world. . ____And then a taunting gust ____Stripped all the flowers bald, And flung their hair about like so much dust. . from Notes on Time . . . . Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Michigan. Her second collection of poems, Notes on Time, has recently been published by AuthorHouse, as was her first (2005) collection, These Holy Mysteries. Her poems have also appeared in First Things, Modern Age, The North American Anglican, The Orchards Poetry Review, The Book of Common Praise hymnal, and elsewhere. Her Facebook page is “Mysteries and Metaphors.” NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Trending now: 34 Responses Daniel Kemper May 21, 2024 THAT was wonderful. Just wonderful. Layered, lyrical. Paced so well. Images lush, yet economical–each to their purpose in the poem. Wonderful. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Thank you very much, Daniel! Coming from the author of “AI’s Promise” and “Coffee with a Them”, your praise means a great deal to me! Reply Daniel Kemper May 21, 2024 It strikes me particularly poignantly because a woman I was twice engaged to was a HSP, an orchid, if you will, but for my durability and flexibility, I was the dandelion. The ending of things in your poem hit me double. Rohini May 21, 2024 Beautiful! And yet so much said in those last three lines: __And then a taunting gust ____Stripped all the flowers bald, And flung their hair about like so much dust. Emotional. Thank you for sharing Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Thank you, Rohini. I’m so glad you connected with the emotional theme of the poem. Reply Phil S. Rogers May 21, 2024 The stark reality of how quickly our lives go by and most of us never notice, until one day we look in the mirror and we have become ‘gray-headed’ like the dandelions. Then we wonder how on earth our lives went by so quickly, what have we accomplished, and what may lie ahead. A great poem, Cynthia. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Indeed, Phil, we pass our lives like a shadow. I’m grateful for your thoughtful comment. Reply Roy Eugene Peterson May 21, 2024 Precious thoughts conveyed and visualized in my mind of the rapid passage of time and the ending of our lives. And yet we have the capability to leave something behind of our being like the dandelion with seeds blowing in the wind. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Very true, Roy. I like the way your comment extends the metaphor further. Thank you! Reply jd May 21, 2024 A beautiful poem, Cynthia, so beautiful I will save it and maybe even enter it in my “God” book, where I save all the poems belonging to Him that speak to me also. I know you don’t speak of Him specifically but He’s in there in the light, the colors, the wind, the time, even the dust. Your “Nocturnal Litanies” are already in there. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Oh, my, jd, what a profound comment! It’s one of the things “The Preacher” of Ecclesiastes shows us: that He is always there, even above the “vanities” of earthly life. I’m overwhelmed that you have my Nocturnal Litanies in your God book, and are planning to add “Dandelions”. Thank you so much for that; I’m truly honored by it. Reply Margaret Coats May 21, 2024 A poem on transience in several layers: short-lived flowers and weeds, the viewer/speaker surprised over and over, the moral critique of vanity in human life added by the Biblical epigraph. Still, what impresses me is the activity in the poem. About 20 active verbs, with only a couple of them repeated. That’s transience too–a treat for the reader to pass through! Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Thank you very much, Margaret. I’m so glad you enjoyed the use of lots of verbs; I don’t recall having especially noticed that when I was writing it, but you are right, and I appreciate your observation of it. Reply Alan Orsborn May 21, 2024 A poignantly beautiful poem, I identify with the dandelions so quickly going to seed and seeing them float away. It brought to mind another scripture, All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 I’m grateful for your comment, Alan. Since you mentioned that particular Scripture, here is a link to my poem entitled “All Flesh is Grass”, published in First Things magazine: https://www.firstthings.com/article/2019/03/all-flesh-is-grass Reply Alan Orsborn May 21, 2024 Thank you for that. All Flesh is Grass complements Dandelions very well, the one concerning God’s judgment on the wicked, the other, on the unstoppable progression of age. Both are in God’s hands. Gigi Ryan May 21, 2024 Dear Cynthia, Your poem had me watching the scenery unfold as if I was watching a time lapse movie. The images you created with words are magical. “Like many tiny suns,” and “they all were nodding…as if they were applauding,” are among my favorites. Dandelions are a deceptively complex little creation, are they not? Thank you for this beauty! Gigi Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 You are so welcome, Gigi — thank you much for your comment! It’s wonderful to know that you thought the images were “magical”! Reply Morrison Handley-Schachler May 22, 2024 Very lyrical and moving, Cynthia. The sentiment is one that many (or most) people will be able to share. The use of iambic trimeter with alternating feminine and masculine endings gives this a gently flowing feeling, with the tetrameter and pentameter lines adding extra emphasis at key points. We might also think of Job 14:2, “Who cometh forth like a flower, and is destroyed, and fleeth as a shadow, and never continueth in the same state.” Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 22, 2024 Thank you so much, Morrison. I am grateful that you enjoyed the meter of the poem enough to analyze it as you have. And yes, Job is such a poetically-written tragedy! Reply James Sale May 22, 2024 A pretty wonderful and beautifully lyrical poem, Cynthia – very impressive work indeed. Thank you for sharing. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 22, 2024 Thank you, James; your praise means a great deal to me. Reply Brian A. Yapko May 22, 2024 This is a very special poem, Cynthia, which charmingly uses the humble dandelion as a metaphor for our mortality. What I find especially lovely about this poem is your choice of flower. Flowers in literature are a favorite subject and often weighted with symbolism, whether we are talking about Ophelia’s rosemary and pansies, Wordsworth’s daffodils, or Shakespeare’s “rose by any other name.” But you have chosen the humble daffodil, sometimes treasured, sometimes just an annoying weed. But in some ways the most human of flowers, for dandelions can be a solitary, occasional presence on the lawn or they can quickly become a sunny crowd… and all too soon just a memory. Just like people. I am reminded of Ray Bradbury’s “Dandelion Wine” — a marvelous set of boyhood stories set in rural 1928 Illinois. Dandelions for him are a true symbol of summer freedom, but by being preserved as wine they allow for a kind of eternal summer: “Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in.” Poetry has that same ability to take us back into a different season, a different memory. Yours does so beautifully. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 22, 2024 Thank you, Brian; see my reply below. Reply Brian A. Yapko May 22, 2024 Thank you! And forgive my typo 5 or 6 lines in — obviously I know you chose the humble dandelion and not my erroneous “humble daffodil.” I guess I just had daffodils on the brain! Paul A. Freeman May 22, 2024 What a vivid poem. So much said, in a piece laced with metaphor and personification. Thanks for the read, Cynthia. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 22, 2024 Thank you, Paul, and you are welcome! Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 22, 2024 Thank you, Brian. Seasons have always fascinated me, and have been one of my major themes. That became clear to me as I started organizing my poems and ended up with my collection called “Notes on Time”. Watching seasons change and time flying by faster than a speeding dandelion puff seems so mysterious to me. As you note, flowers are significant, and the passing of perennials every year symbolizes the flight of time and the fleeting nature of life to me. Thank you for the recommendation of “Dandelion Wine”. I do like Bradbury very much, but haven’t read that one yet. I will look forward to reading it. Reply Julian D. Woodruff May 23, 2024 This is a gem, Cynthia. Looking into the faces of my 2 newest grandkids and seeing in them their developing sense of wonder, along with recognition, I’m led to consider how far most of us get figuring out the world and our place in it (no matter how much or how little we seem to get done), and what it all means and leads to. The self-satisfaction of “I did it my way” may be sufficient for many, but not for all. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 23, 2024 Thank you, Julian! Reply Sally Cook May 23, 2024 Lovely, lyrical and profound on many levels. I love the dandelion – it came here with my ancestors on the Mayflower. Reply Norma Pain May 23, 2024 Your poem is quite lovely Cynthia and almost makes me appreciate dandelions… but not quite! I confess that I dig them out when I see them. Reply Lucia Haase May 24, 2024 I love your poem. Dandelions are especially beautiful along the country roads here. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant May 25, 2024 What an intriguing form and what a wonderful subject. I love this shining image, “an unseen magic wand / Had turned green lawns to blinding blonde”. I believe there are many messages in nature and the changing of the seasons… messages of hope and eternity. Oh, the wonder of that unseen magic wand and the beauty and devastation it can conjure. Cynthia, you have enveloped me in your dandelion spell… and I’m all the better for it. Thank you! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Daniel Kemper May 21, 2024 THAT was wonderful. Just wonderful. Layered, lyrical. Paced so well. Images lush, yet economical–each to their purpose in the poem. Wonderful. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Thank you very much, Daniel! Coming from the author of “AI’s Promise” and “Coffee with a Them”, your praise means a great deal to me! Reply
Daniel Kemper May 21, 2024 It strikes me particularly poignantly because a woman I was twice engaged to was a HSP, an orchid, if you will, but for my durability and flexibility, I was the dandelion. The ending of things in your poem hit me double.
Rohini May 21, 2024 Beautiful! And yet so much said in those last three lines: __And then a taunting gust ____Stripped all the flowers bald, And flung their hair about like so much dust. Emotional. Thank you for sharing Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Thank you, Rohini. I’m so glad you connected with the emotional theme of the poem. Reply
Phil S. Rogers May 21, 2024 The stark reality of how quickly our lives go by and most of us never notice, until one day we look in the mirror and we have become ‘gray-headed’ like the dandelions. Then we wonder how on earth our lives went by so quickly, what have we accomplished, and what may lie ahead. A great poem, Cynthia. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Indeed, Phil, we pass our lives like a shadow. I’m grateful for your thoughtful comment. Reply
Roy Eugene Peterson May 21, 2024 Precious thoughts conveyed and visualized in my mind of the rapid passage of time and the ending of our lives. And yet we have the capability to leave something behind of our being like the dandelion with seeds blowing in the wind. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Very true, Roy. I like the way your comment extends the metaphor further. Thank you! Reply
jd May 21, 2024 A beautiful poem, Cynthia, so beautiful I will save it and maybe even enter it in my “God” book, where I save all the poems belonging to Him that speak to me also. I know you don’t speak of Him specifically but He’s in there in the light, the colors, the wind, the time, even the dust. Your “Nocturnal Litanies” are already in there. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Oh, my, jd, what a profound comment! It’s one of the things “The Preacher” of Ecclesiastes shows us: that He is always there, even above the “vanities” of earthly life. I’m overwhelmed that you have my Nocturnal Litanies in your God book, and are planning to add “Dandelions”. Thank you so much for that; I’m truly honored by it. Reply
Margaret Coats May 21, 2024 A poem on transience in several layers: short-lived flowers and weeds, the viewer/speaker surprised over and over, the moral critique of vanity in human life added by the Biblical epigraph. Still, what impresses me is the activity in the poem. About 20 active verbs, with only a couple of them repeated. That’s transience too–a treat for the reader to pass through! Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 Thank you very much, Margaret. I’m so glad you enjoyed the use of lots of verbs; I don’t recall having especially noticed that when I was writing it, but you are right, and I appreciate your observation of it. Reply
Alan Orsborn May 21, 2024 A poignantly beautiful poem, I identify with the dandelions so quickly going to seed and seeing them float away. It brought to mind another scripture, All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 I’m grateful for your comment, Alan. Since you mentioned that particular Scripture, here is a link to my poem entitled “All Flesh is Grass”, published in First Things magazine: https://www.firstthings.com/article/2019/03/all-flesh-is-grass Reply
Alan Orsborn May 21, 2024 Thank you for that. All Flesh is Grass complements Dandelions very well, the one concerning God’s judgment on the wicked, the other, on the unstoppable progression of age. Both are in God’s hands.
Gigi Ryan May 21, 2024 Dear Cynthia, Your poem had me watching the scenery unfold as if I was watching a time lapse movie. The images you created with words are magical. “Like many tiny suns,” and “they all were nodding…as if they were applauding,” are among my favorites. Dandelions are a deceptively complex little creation, are they not? Thank you for this beauty! Gigi Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 21, 2024 You are so welcome, Gigi — thank you much for your comment! It’s wonderful to know that you thought the images were “magical”! Reply
Morrison Handley-Schachler May 22, 2024 Very lyrical and moving, Cynthia. The sentiment is one that many (or most) people will be able to share. The use of iambic trimeter with alternating feminine and masculine endings gives this a gently flowing feeling, with the tetrameter and pentameter lines adding extra emphasis at key points. We might also think of Job 14:2, “Who cometh forth like a flower, and is destroyed, and fleeth as a shadow, and never continueth in the same state.” Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 22, 2024 Thank you so much, Morrison. I am grateful that you enjoyed the meter of the poem enough to analyze it as you have. And yes, Job is such a poetically-written tragedy! Reply
James Sale May 22, 2024 A pretty wonderful and beautifully lyrical poem, Cynthia – very impressive work indeed. Thank you for sharing. Reply
Brian A. Yapko May 22, 2024 This is a very special poem, Cynthia, which charmingly uses the humble dandelion as a metaphor for our mortality. What I find especially lovely about this poem is your choice of flower. Flowers in literature are a favorite subject and often weighted with symbolism, whether we are talking about Ophelia’s rosemary and pansies, Wordsworth’s daffodils, or Shakespeare’s “rose by any other name.” But you have chosen the humble daffodil, sometimes treasured, sometimes just an annoying weed. But in some ways the most human of flowers, for dandelions can be a solitary, occasional presence on the lawn or they can quickly become a sunny crowd… and all too soon just a memory. Just like people. I am reminded of Ray Bradbury’s “Dandelion Wine” — a marvelous set of boyhood stories set in rural 1928 Illinois. Dandelions for him are a true symbol of summer freedom, but by being preserved as wine they allow for a kind of eternal summer: “Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in.” Poetry has that same ability to take us back into a different season, a different memory. Yours does so beautifully. Reply
Brian A. Yapko May 22, 2024 Thank you! And forgive my typo 5 or 6 lines in — obviously I know you chose the humble dandelion and not my erroneous “humble daffodil.” I guess I just had daffodils on the brain!
Paul A. Freeman May 22, 2024 What a vivid poem. So much said, in a piece laced with metaphor and personification. Thanks for the read, Cynthia. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson May 22, 2024 Thank you, Brian. Seasons have always fascinated me, and have been one of my major themes. That became clear to me as I started organizing my poems and ended up with my collection called “Notes on Time”. Watching seasons change and time flying by faster than a speeding dandelion puff seems so mysterious to me. As you note, flowers are significant, and the passing of perennials every year symbolizes the flight of time and the fleeting nature of life to me. Thank you for the recommendation of “Dandelion Wine”. I do like Bradbury very much, but haven’t read that one yet. I will look forward to reading it. Reply
Julian D. Woodruff May 23, 2024 This is a gem, Cynthia. Looking into the faces of my 2 newest grandkids and seeing in them their developing sense of wonder, along with recognition, I’m led to consider how far most of us get figuring out the world and our place in it (no matter how much or how little we seem to get done), and what it all means and leads to. The self-satisfaction of “I did it my way” may be sufficient for many, but not for all. Reply
Sally Cook May 23, 2024 Lovely, lyrical and profound on many levels. I love the dandelion – it came here with my ancestors on the Mayflower. Reply
Norma Pain May 23, 2024 Your poem is quite lovely Cynthia and almost makes me appreciate dandelions… but not quite! I confess that I dig them out when I see them. Reply
Lucia Haase May 24, 2024 I love your poem. Dandelions are especially beautiful along the country roads here. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant May 25, 2024 What an intriguing form and what a wonderful subject. I love this shining image, “an unseen magic wand / Had turned green lawns to blinding blonde”. I believe there are many messages in nature and the changing of the seasons… messages of hope and eternity. Oh, the wonder of that unseen magic wand and the beauty and devastation it can conjure. Cynthia, you have enveloped me in your dandelion spell… and I’m all the better for it. Thank you! Reply