Dandelion Compositions

[Tikvah]

Whoever writes the best composition (It can be a story, report, essay, or poem) about dandelions (Yes, the weedy flower that grows in your lawn) gets $20.00 and/or a free set! As second prize is $10.00 and third prize is $5.00.
Your composition can be posted here in a spoiler, and must be between 5 and 500 words.

[Sunshine]

Awesome! I shall get to work. ^.^

[Jehoshaphat]

Here is my rather hastily constructed poem like thing about Dandelions

Dandelions,
Dandelions you stink
you push me to the edge of sanity
it makes me think
that yellow is not so good after all.
You begin as one, and continue to spread
until, everyone is almost dead.
we pull you up but you still go
something has to make you not grow.
As allergies kick in
people turn in
to there air conditioned and heated houses
where they sit and relax
and sneeze out there backs.
Dandelions, go away
and never come back another day.

[Samantha14]

Oh. I shall get to work as well. ^_^

Can it be a fictional story that the main idea is something else but the piece I use involves a dandelion?

Did that make sense?

[Tikvah]

Yes, it can be fictional, Sammy. Just as long as it has dandelions in it.

[Monty]

A Dandelion; In Haiku

A flower, alone
Sits forlornly on a plain
Never stops waiting

But wait! Is it time?
Has its patience been a gift?
What is coming there?

A spore, a friend? Drifts
In the ever changing wind
Coming closer now...

But was it a dream?
For the spore, the seed, has left
New life slips away

A flower, alone
Its white ball drooping sadly
Dies on a harsh plain

[Samantha14]

Yes, it can be fictional, Sammy. Just as long as it has dandelions in it.

So it can be an excerpt of a story I'm already working on? (Didn't word that right the first time, sorry)

[Tikvah]

As long as it has dandelions in it, it's fine.

[Samantha14]

Already, just checking. Thanks.

[Petrichor]

I wrote something for this, but I got a little carried away and ended up with almost 700 words. Oh well. It was fun to write. Thanks for giving me the idea. ^.^

[Tikvah]

You could still post it, if you want. I will still count it. I really didn't think anyone would hit that limit.

[Petrichor]

You could still post it, if you want. I will still count it. I really didn't think anyone would hit that limit.

That's nice of you. Thanks. And yeah, I have developed an unfortunate tendency towards the wordy. NaNoWriMo does that to you... This thing weighs in at about 680 words, and I was shooting for 500.

Rather heavily inspired by N.D. Wilson's "Dandelion Fire." Here we go!

"Dandelions are magic."
My grandpa always used to say that. Never really understood what he meant by it, so one day I asked him, and I guess I won’t ever forget what he told me.
"Yep," he said, surveying his green and gold lawn from the stifling heat of the back porch. "Magic's in full swing about this time of year."
"Why're they magic? My daddy says they're weeds." I swung my legs back and forth over the side of the porch, grumpy and miserable in the sticky heat of the day.
"So? Doesn’t mean I'm wrong," my grandpa shot back, obviously feeling just as cantankerous as I was.
"Nuh-uh. Dandelions aren't magic, and the Tooth Fairy isn't magic, and, and... the Easter Bunny isn't magic, either!" I wasn't ready to give up on Santa quite yet. Maybe one more Christmas and Santa would fall into the same category as dandelions.
My grandpa glared down at me from his rocking chair. "Go pick me some of those dandelions."
"What? Whyyy? It's hot," I whined, sliding off the porch. I yanked up a fistful of the flowers and stomped back over to dump them in my grandpa's lap.
"Now sit your little rear down there and listen up,” my grandpa said, straightening the flowers in his lap. I sat.
"Take a good look." He waved the bunch of flowers in front of my face. "What do you see?"
"Dandelions," I mumbled.
"And what do you see out there?" he gestured towards his overgrown yard.
"More dandelions."
"And over there? And there? And over there in Ted White's yard, even though he keeps tryin' to pull 'em up?" Grandpa cackled with glee over this last question.
"Dandelions?"
"Right! Dandelions! And where do you think they all came from?"
"Seeds?" I tried.
"Kinda. It was one little dandelion, just like this." He tickled my nose with one, and I sneezed. "Bless you. One little flower, and pretty soon you got a whole yard full of them. How many people do you suppose tried to pull up that flower, stomp on it, burn it, or poison it?"
"I don't know," I said sourly, slapping at mosquito bites on my arms. "Lots.”
"Yep. People pull 'em out, try to kill em, and that pretty gold color starts to go away. They die. Sad, isn't it?"
"Yeah… I guess."
"Bring me some of those ones over there." Grandpa pointed at a patch of gray in the sea of yellow and green.
I picked a few and gingerly handed them over.
"Ahh. See? These'uns are a little more delicate. You gotta be careful, or the wind could..." He let out a tiny puff of breath, and little gray tufts scattered in all directions. "Make 'em go away."
We both watched for a second, before the little seeds disappeared from sight.
"Still don't see what's magic about them," I muttered.
"This is where the magic comes in." Grandpa winked. "You can't see those little seeds anymore, but they're out there. Gettin' ready to burrow in and make flowers of their own. They grow up that pretty color, burn hot gold for just a little while, then they burn out and turn ashy. But the wind blows 'em off and... they start all over."
I propped my chin on my hands and stared out at the yard. "And that's magic?"
My grandpa squinted into the hazy sky behind me for a second, then slowly nodded. "That little flower, everything's against it. Can't go one day without getting kicked at or poisoned, but it hangs on. Just to spite people, it grows up big and tall and gold. Then it dies. But that stubborn flower... it can’t just die. So it goes on a journey, and it starts all over again. Turns to green and gold and ashes over and over and over again, without fail. Every time it lives, it dies, but every time it dies, it comes right on back to life. I dunno. Guess it just makes me think there’s something a tiny bit magic in that ornery little dandelion.”

[Sunshine]

Life keeps getting more and more busy, and I don't know that I'll be able to get an entry together (I'm not a fast writer). But I look forward to reading the other entries posted, later.

[Tikvah]

OK, everybody, one more week to get your entries in.

[Moontide]

Here is mine:

Dandelions* are a mellow yellow.

*on an unrelated note, Napoleon B. Broward was the Governor of the Florida in 1906 AD

[Tikvah]

TOMARROW is the last day to get entries in.

[Samantha14]

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to do mine. Ah well, congrats to those who made it and will win.

[Tikvah]

All right, Everybody, I have made my decision.

Third Prize goes to Jehoshaphat, for his poem.

Dandelions,
Dandelions you stink
you push me to the edge of sanity
it makes me think
that yellow is not so good after all.
You begin as one, and continue to spread
until, everyone is almost dead.
we pull you up but you still go
something has to make you not grow.
As allergies kick in
people turn in
to there air conditioned and heated houses
where they sit and relax
and sneeze out there backs.
Dandelions, go away
and never come back another day.

Second Prize goes to montywhittakerIII for his Haiku.

A Dandelion; In Haiku

A flower, alone
Sits forlornly on a plain
Never stops waiting

But wait! Is it time?
Has its patience been a gift?
What is coming there?

A spore, a friend? Drifts
In the ever changing wind
Coming closer now...

But was it a dream?
For the spore, the seed, has left
New life slips away

A flower, alone
Its white ball drooping sadly
Dies on a harsh plain

First prize goes to Petrichor for his composition.

"Dandelions are magic."
My grandpa always used to say that. Never really understood what he meant by it, so one day I asked him, and I guess I won’t ever forget what he told me.
"Yep," he said, surveying his green and gold lawn from the stifling heat of the back porch. "Magic's in full swing about this time of year."
"Why're they magic? My daddy says they're weeds." I swung my legs back and forth over the side of the porch, grumpy and miserable in the sticky heat of the day.
"So? Doesn’t mean I'm wrong," my grandpa shot back, obviously feeling just as cantankerous as I was.
"Nuh-uh. Dandelions aren't magic, and the Tooth Fairy isn't magic, and, and... the Easter Bunny isn't magic, either!" I wasn't ready to give up on Santa quite yet. Maybe one more Christmas and Santa would fall into the same category as dandelions.
My grandpa glared down at me from his rocking chair. "Go pick me some of those dandelions."
"What? Whyyy? It's hot," I whined, sliding off the porch. I yanked up a fistful of the flowers and stomped back over to dump them in my grandpa's lap.
"Now sit your little rear down there and listen up,” my grandpa said, straightening the flowers in his lap. I sat.
"Take a good look." He waved the bunch of flowers in front of my face. "What do you see?"
"Dandelions," I mumbled.
"And what do you see out there?" he gestured towards his overgrown yard.
"More dandelions."
"And over there? And there? And over there in Ted White's yard, even though he keeps tryin' to pull 'em up?" Grandpa cackled with glee over this last question.
"Dandelions?"
"Right! Dandelions! And where do you think they all came from?"
"Seeds?" I tried.
"Kinda. It was one little dandelion, just like this." He tickled my nose with one, and I sneezed. "Bless you. One little flower, and pretty soon you got a whole yard full of them. How many people do you suppose tried to pull up that flower, stomp on it, burn it, or poison it?"
"I don't know," I said sourly, slapping at mosquito bites on my arms. "Lots.”
"Yep. People pull 'em out, try to kill em, and that pretty gold color starts to go away. They die. Sad, isn't it?"
"Yeah… I guess."
"Bring me some of those ones over there." Grandpa pointed at a patch of gray in the sea of yellow and green.
I picked a few and gingerly handed them over.
"Ahh. See? These'uns are a little more delicate. You gotta be careful, or the wind could..." He let out a tiny puff of breath, and little gray tufts scattered in all directions. "Make 'em go away."
We both watched for a second, before the little seeds disappeared from sight.
"Still don't see what's magic about them," I muttered.
"This is where the magic comes in." Grandpa winked. "You can't see those little seeds anymore, but they're out there. Gettin' ready to burrow in and make flowers of their own. They grow up that pretty color, burn hot gold for just a little while, then they burn out and turn ashy. But the wind blows 'em off and... they start all over."
I propped my chin on my hands and stared out at the yard. "And that's magic?"
My grandpa squinted into the hazy sky behind me for a second, then slowly nodded. "That little flower, everything's against it. Can't go one day without getting kicked at or poisoned, but it hangs on. Just to spite people, it grows up big and tall and gold. Then it dies. But that stubborn flower... it can’t just die. So it goes on a journey, and it starts all over again. Turns to green and gold and ashes over and over and over again, without fail. Every time it lives, it dies, but every time it dies, it comes right on back to life. I dunno. Guess it just makes me think there’s something a tiny bit magic in that ornery little dandelion.”

Congratulations to you all!

I will send out the prizes shortly.