Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer
Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around.
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…
Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey
There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~
(for Catie's: Re-write contest..)
Sunlight sparkles on the shimmering pond
Its mirror like surface smooth as silk
Dragonflies dance across the water
Performing aerial acrobatics like a circus in the air
Water dipping on a fairground ferris wheel
Then plunging dramatically like a helicopter in freefall
Rising and falling skimming the water so gracefully
Transparent gossamar wings flapping in flight
Shimmering like a sapphire in the early morning sun
Dazzling me with your infinite beauty
Some summer days I wish I had wings
Seeing dragonflies’ dancing makes my heart sing
15th May 2014
Awarded 1st place in contest run by Judy Konos
You and I make the rainbow!
You know dear why I love rain?
It washes away my soul's strain!
My hair fall free to go with the flow!
My face lights up, gets back its glow!
That's why I am letting me get wet!
I haven't got that dreamy feeling yet!
When water tickles under my feet!
Dribbling drops form a dance beat!
The breeze around asks me to fly!
Even if I know I couldn't, I still try!
I go into another world, while I'm here!
The sky that's so far, to me it gets near!
While I am afloat, under the cloud's gazebo!
Not the raindrops, you and I make rainbow!
Poetry by Dr. Asghar Nazeer (LinkedIn profile http://sa.linkedin.com/in/drasgharnazeerlinkedinprofile)
Kindly read this poem with a lovely matching photo by Ms. Linda Sherman on LinkedIn pulse at https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/article/20140820205500-167523528-you-and-i-make-the-rainbow and with a beautiful captivating painting on LinkedIn Pulse at https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1
Please review my other 28 poems with similarly captivating pics at my LinkedIn main author's page at https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1
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The libertine flails his torches
Burning staffs in his hands aglow
Golden sparks from the kindle beseech you
To dance on flames that he throws
For he is a man they call Passion
No soul has escaped what he's sowed
Good bye to innocence
Only embers are left where he's roamed
Good bye to innocence
We all dance on the coals he calls love.
He is the thief we call Ardor
He spins plumes of turquoise and gold
Challengers fall, all are smitten
By warm sultry nights and moon glow
Behind his mask love is yearning
To break free of seductions steel glove
Good bye to innocence
His restraints bind us coarsely entombed
Good bye to innocence
We will dance on the ruins he calls love .
Who says the broken
won’t still dance in the rain?
From the sky spills sweet champagne…
Arms wide spread
Warm drops on your face
Laugh out loud …
and dash the puddles!
Put on your boots and splash them!
Like a child, just crash them!
Excise the tears….
embrace the out pour
Feel the sting on your skin
(more alive than ever before)
Gambol in a silver shimmer
Fits of giggles in the drizzle
Misty showers springing flowers
as the spate will hide the pain
Guileless merriment like a child
ingenuous ballet in the rain…
Prisms of light
Glimmers in the water
Reflecting physiognomies of the past
Luminescent white essence
Elan Vitals replenish
Inside of Mother Earth
In a cycle of recycle
Beneath the canopy
of celestial powers
Sway with the
Undulate with the
of natures breeze
Anew and brightened
From the sky falls sweet champagne….
Embrace your life and just dance in the rain....
As quiet blackness deepened
I lay awake my heart in check,
The cool night wind blew
And welcome silence grew…
Unanticipated music exploded
Roused me from bed rest,
I tiptoed to its source:
Dark sounds from downstairs,
Nearer, higher, and louder
Till it reached the hallway.
He grasped my hand,
Whirled it to turn me twice,
Held me close, went on trotting steps
Slow, quick, quick; slow, quick, quick;
Slow, slow, quick, quick...
He never gets tired, he liked the dance.
He led; I followed - his greatest joy;
In perfect timing to his bidding,
I swayed wherever he flung me,
His steps were full of variation –
He liked it that way;
While I only had one reaction –
Receive his urgings.
Perfect dance he'd always say because
It is with such ease when partner is open
That controlled movement is played.
Ungraceful dance I never liked,
But all this time it kept me alive:
His music and diverse steps I sought
And to it I humbly swayed.
Tonight I let him led again,
Just like the other days and nights.
The darkness of the night was strained,
It was only the curtains that were swaying,
To the night breeze with grace,
Stark of light peeped out from the room,
My hands and feet went frozen like ice,
I heard a different tune within, sad, weary,
But slowly roused with excitement
And anger underneath... Heated me up
Ablaze, my eyes red-stained -
He held me closer to him, and I -
Pulled myself too tight to him
He was pleased I saw it in his sated eyes
As I meekly submitted… for the last time.
We did slow, quick, quick steps for a two
Or more and then he let me go; I trotted
Far away from him then back to him
Without his behest, and out of rhythm
His steps were outside our dance floor…
Down the stairs...In open position he lay there,
In his face I saw his dance - the macabre
dance - I never liked at all. His eyes dazed –
He had his final dance with me after all.
The night was cold, yet I felt warm, and the music gone,
The curtains stopped swaying at the night winds’ prodding.
(Gentle Summer Rain)
light pouring silver gray
enriched thoughts fall from the sky
complete path towards-
Blissful, Delighting Peace
small ceremonial rain dance.
Gentle therapeutic rain
on a warm summer day.
falls of heaven on my skin
lovely healing memory
embracing promise land
means of escaping
utopia in a cloud
light mist paints the Earth
"Drizzling summer rays"
Swimming in sunshine, rain.
It happens while the world is sleeping
They tiptoe in from hide and seeking
They yawn and stretch and wash their faces
And welcome dawn with morning graces
Upon each blooming garden rose
A gleaming speck will splash and splatter
Sprinkled droplets, rainbow blue
Tossed about from tiny shoulders
Upon the petal's velvet hue
They dance upon the luscious grass
Wearing fragile tiny slippers
With twirling, dancing feet of glass
Each pirouette is choreographed
And sprinkle dots of magic glitter
On gossamer wings, they will arrive
To music of the sunrise
The fairies dance in crystal shoes
To surprise the day with sparkles bright
With showers bright of morning dew
Like fallen warriors,
we collapse side by side,
glistening in the sweaty afterglow.
Limbs still entangled,
too exhausted to sing the other’s praise,
we stare at the blades of the bedroom fan
slowly circling above.
escapes in between your deep,
reflects in the brass, ball base
of the rotating fan.
I smile in return,
unable to rescue my gaze
from the fan
cooling off our steaming bodies.
your right hand moves;
fingers entangle with those on my left.
I still taste you on my lips.
I silently laugh to myself
upon the realization that I still have one sock on;
the other dangling on the end of a fan blade.
The remainder of our clothes
strewn around the room
as if the hamper had exploded.
ruined when I removed it
with my teeth.
Beads of sweat roll down my thigh
where our legs remain interlocked –
I love the smooth contrast of your skin
against my sun dried legs.
The ever so slight breeze
created by the fan
is starting to dry our exposed skin
as we slowly regain strength.
The circling blades hypnotize.
from the fan motor
mixes with the recent memory
of the rhythmic dance
now lightly brushing against me,
is re-energizing my engine.
near your finger tips
indicate our dance may not yet be over.
to interrupt my transfixed,
with the ceiling fan,
so I can once again
concentrate on you.
Energy restored –
as if pumped back into our souls
by the bedroom fan –
the warriors re-engage
in battle once again.
A battle in which
each warrior wins.
She twirls alone on the floor
as ambient songs fling with the wisp
of mambo notes…
this older lady with sequins on her hair—
luminescent arms quite fluid-- ruffles around
like a moth in a trance; her glow
dark and brewed by some potion: flamed toes
pivoting on embers of heat and glazed stones.
There I am, inhabiting her freestyle grooves
as my body moves toward her like burnt sting.
And we pulsate without a compass,
reeling our strides higher than anklets
of evening… and we dance, we dance
while our bones make love with the moon,
climbing into the pole of beats
until glitters in our eyes meet
with kohl of dusk’s thrist hiding nothing.
I twist evermore past a cotillion of meteors
Spreading plumes across unknown rhythm;
A mad swivel with myself, thrilling my essence
In a hanging motion of a dip…I find myself alone
on the floor; my hem gathering night’s stardust.
And the lady gazes at me from afar, she smiles,
Dancing With Contest
Sponsor: Giorgo V.
by nette onclaud