I don't know if I put these poems in the right category because I'm not much of a poet. But I had to write eighty lines of poetry for school and these two I thought were good enough to share. Let me know what you think about them and how I can improve.
Dancing with the Dandelions
When I was young, I loved to play in the dandelions.
Only a weed, flourishing wherever they desired,
but in the same way beautiful, each petal holding a piece of light, making up the sun.
I watched as they kept society with one another.
Each one was different and yet, in another chapter, they were all the same,
dancing with the wind, crying with the sky.
There was a time in my life when I felt just like a dandelion.
Only a simple high-class weed, striving to be beautiful
in a world full of violets and roses.
Once age passed, however, I started to recognize the humanity in the dandelions;
how one never stood alone.
I had walked, loved, and danced with millions of other dandelions.
The violets and roses may shine high and mighty in the light,
but appear weak in the wind.
They will never receive the gift of living and feeling the light inside the rain.
As we strive through Heaven and fall straight into Hell,
only the glory of being a beautiful weed will tell.
The Song of the Dandelions
Her sallow body lingers in the sun
as dandelions, old and young, delicately hold her, gracious and strong.
Blood, no longer fresh, rises from underneath the outer layer of he skin.
It seeps from the wound along her head, shattered with wisps of brown hair.
Laying breathlessly, her sidelong body curves in so many different ways it's unimaginable.
Pus starts at her head and slides down her twisted neck.
One eye socket is bare, making a home for to inch six leg critters
with claws to make way through the rest of her system.
The other eye bulging, her iris around her blinded pupil, green as it carries a glimpse of sunlight.
A dress no longer white reveals her nakedness, tattered like the rest of her.
Once beautiful, but now forever forbidden to breathe,
she hides within the earth, protecting her until decay.
Years taken back, she was laughing and dancing with the dandelions all the same.
Her brown hair flowing around her shoulders, joyful in the sun,
living without heart-ache, waisting no muscle to move,
waisting no breath to live.
Her skin captured a shimmer of light stolen from the sun
and her snow white dress flew with the wind, causing a collision around her slender figure.
Dandelions, once blissful to play endless daylight with her,
but now weep onto her limp carcass.
She carried beauty, life, the warming sun, as well as the stars in the night.
Although, in present, she stays petrified within death,
her song will always be inside the dandelions, trapped within life, but free within spirit.
