Ways of Looking at a Dandelion

by Isabella Taylor

I. Teeth of the heraldic lion
Trying to consume the sky
Above the clouds

II. Little tawny suns
Brighten my day
On gray

III. Lemon rinded cowards
Spreading like butter
On the burnt toast

IV. Posing as a golden rod
Deceit beneath you lies
Roots weaving into loam

V. So yellow
You plan your sneak attacks
On innocent acres

VI. Gatherer of the rays
Flashlight in hand
Searching for Adam’s ale

VII. Yield signs
Arresting growth from innocents by standers
In the bustling garden street

VIII. Spreading your yolks
Of military genius
To hatch

IX. Sun squeezed lemon drops
Placed strategically
In the candy jar

X. Flecks of saffron
Mother nature’s spice jar
Adding flavor

XI. Florets of bright golden yellow
With white thread

XII. Internally white
Your milky juice
Leaves a bitter taste

XIII. Fire seeds snap and crackle
Shedding generations
Of golden opportunities

XIV. Dispenser of wishes
In one forceful breath
Your dreams come true

XV. Delicate white fluff
Prolifically dispersing its seeds
Throughout the year

XVI. A parachute sailing the wind
Searching for a landing
To drop its brown cargo

XVII. Fairy brooms billowing in the breeze
Delivering wishes
For hopeful little souls

XVIII. Oh, Grandmother
Your hair has turned to white
Revealing your bald head

XIX. Fields of cotton balls
Harvested for whims
Death in one blow

XX. Sentenced for trespassing
On innocent pastures
Executed for this crime

XXI. Smeared like mustard
On the bottom of my boot
Leaving a golden stain

XXII. Settlers pioneering the land
Hungry for more space
To lay their blonde heads

XXIII. Infuse an ounce of me
Decant, sweeten with honey
Dandelion tea

XXIV. Formed in rustic fermentation
Now a beer to drink
From yellow sacrifices

XXV. Little yellow chicks
Peeping in the grass
Crying out to mother sun

XXVI. Covered in white veils
Vacant stares
As you are stripped away

XXVII. Beneath your honey hair
Pumps ivory milk in your veins
Encased in an emerald gown


Wordsworth & Stevens Walking Through the Snowy Woods

By Isabella Taylor

I believe I know the thoughts of trees that are robes in majestic green emeralds. They speak to me of winds past and their leafy children that blew away. (Wordsworth)

The trees loom over me like a burden on my shoulders that takes the warmth out of me as they deprive me of sun. (Stevens)

These shadows of trees embrace me and caress me like the arms of my mother. These trees line a path, they are the veins of mother nature. (Wordsworth)

My mule shakes its head ringing these blasted bells and questioning my journey in the middle of these woods. (S)

My beautiful midnight black steed shakes his head in a melodic euphony of sound reminding me to continue on this delightful way. (W)

The woods are dark, damp, smelling of rotting leaves and musty lichen. (S)

I would be frightened if it were not for the lovely scent of pine, this carpet of fine leaves for my horse’s foot, and the blessings of nature surrounding me. This sleepy dark wood is like being wrapped in my favorite blanket. (W)

I must go on as duty calls for I have days to endure before I can sleep. (S)

I relish in this lively path, enjoying each breath I am filled with gratitude to God above. He has set this treasure all around me to delight in. I devour each step of my steed as we inch our way along destiny. (W)

Flower Seed

Flower seed

i wanted to grow

to touch the sky

i couldn’t reach for clouds

so high

i persisted with alacrity and might

all day and into night

i consumed dew and bathed in loam

until at last

i felt the vault of heaven

salute me in all God’s command

another creation completed

fully embracing me

as I am



Rose bodice strung with fates
Waterfall frothing greed
Sucking clear gifts
To choke the pretty pink petals
Of grass spilling
Dried open beaks



I come in hearts of three
Purple flushed
Pods gathering to dagger point
Bursting brown lifeboats
Of perfect moons

Dispersed throughout
Creeping cobwebs
Heart under root
Root under heart


Little voices chiming
Dressed in azure
White knot holding together silken petals
Coated in frost thick
Wind blowing the chatter
Of eyes never blinking
Cut cold placed in porcelain vase
Circle view of a dining table
Abating eye to eye
And wailing
Forget-me-not, forget-me-not, forget-me-not

Dreaming Free

I saw a wolf on a cliff, once. He had ruffled fur, and cold blue eyes.

He looked at me, and I stared back.

I picked up a rock and threw it into the abyss, watching it





The wolf just looked at me, and blinked when there was a sharp CLACK! from the rocks below.

He said, “Wake up, you’re dreaming.”

I opened my eyes.

There he was again, standing there. I thought I was hallucinating. He walked closer to the edge of the cliff, and howled at the moon.

I opened my eyes again. “Now you’re awake. Good,” said the wolf, looking down at the rocks. He jumped.

I looked down, and he was standing on a ledge a good four feet below the cliff surface. He impatiently gestured for me to follow. “You’re mad!” I said to the wolf. “I can’t jump that!”

Suddenly I jumped on an impulse. I missed, and fell towards a bed that was mine…

And woke up.