Make Me Dandelion

Poem after Abigail Carroll

A couple of years ago, I was introduced to a Christian poet who is now one of my favorites, Abigail Carroll. She reminds me of both Luci Shaw and Mary Oliver, with her wonderful metaphors and imagery and love of nature. Some of the poems she writes are “Make Me…” poems, in which she writes about an object or creature that she wants to learn from or emulate.

You can read two of her “Make Me” poems here.

I am part of a writing group at my church, which we affectionately call our "Writers’ Cult.” It’s part of a larger creative project our church supports called Culture House. When we met this week, I brought this poem to share, fashioned after Abigail Carroll’s work, a pale imitation, but as Austin Kleon encourages, “steal like an artist” from things and people who inspire you, not to plagiarize, but to practice creating more of what you love.

Ekphrastic poetry is along the same lines, but inspired by a work of visual art. Vincent Van Gogh also created several paintings after other painters he admired, such as Millais’s depictions of peasants, including The Sower and The Gleaners.

The Sower (after Millais) by Vincent Van Gogh

I recently took a mental health walk, something I do regularly, and I looked for the color yellow, capturing images on my camera, which I shared on Instagram. Here in California, the weather has been lovely, blossoms everywhere, and this week we are having a bit of a heat wave while the other side of the country has been in a deep freeze. (I’m not trying to rub it in, honestly!) On my hunt for yellow, I was rewarded with a carpet of dandelions blooming brightly in a field near my neighborhood.

So. Many. Dandelions. Their name is from their jagged leaves that look like “lion’s teeth.”

The debate over dandelions is whether they are a flower or a weed. I do not resolve that in my poem, but I hope I manage to convey some respect for them.

Make Me Dandelion (after Abigail Carroll)
by Carmon Conover

Bold carpeting meadow and pushing through
sidewalk, irrespective of opinion or
whose feet trod on them, who 
picks them. Adapting, blooming brightly
with serrated edges, lion’s teeth
smiling sharply: Try me and see.

Tenacious, bodacious, perspicacious–
common wisdom on which lore is built
over time, proving the depth of
rooted belonging. Haven of earthworms
and breaker of soil, making room
for creatures above and below,
proffering nectar to winged visitors, 
drawn to the sun of humility whose
sweetness surpasses showy blooms.

Dust to dandelion dust, formed from
fragile wind-blown stuff landing
where it will and spreading deeply,
shining for a moment then decaying
into a puff that melts into the breeze.
Still, wishes are borne on this death,
new life growing out of the perennial 
sacrifice; the weakness of dormancy
precursor to a fresh season of strength.

I have been trying to do something creative every day, and since my word for the year is FAIL, one of my creative pursuits has been drawing. Here is my botanical drawing of a dandelion plant to accompany my poem. The point of the word is to try things I wouldn’t normally try because of a fear of failing, not to flagellate myself. I like how my drawing (and my poem) turned out!