The Kennedy Center is known to the world
For honoring those in the arts –
From Ella Fitzgerald, Count Basie, Astaire,
Whose talents top all of the charts.
Sinatra, Gene Kelly, L. Bernstein, Kazan
And Benny and Lena and Merce,
Ray Charles, Lucille Ball, Isaac Stern and George Burns,
The list both profound and diverse.
Belafonte and Ailey and Hepburn and Peck,
Gillespie and Sondheim, the Who;
Aretha and Dylan and Kander and Ebb,
Judith Jamison, Chuck Berry, too.
Baryshnikov, Quincy, Paul Simon and Cash,
Warren Beatty, James Taylor and Cher;
Tina Turner and Spielberg and Barbra and Tharp,
Yo Yo Ma, Dustin Hoffman – all there.
Al Pacino and Elton, De Niro and Streep,
Lily Tomlin, Santana and Sting;
LL Cool J and Reba and Joni, Mel Brooks,
Lionel, Dick Van Dyke, Carole King.
There are more I’ve not mentioned, but going ahead,
It is going to be quite a shock
When the Kennedy Center will honor, perhaps,
Village People or maybe Kid Rock.
Oh, I fear for this country in so many ways
And it feels we’ve been stabbed in our hearts
With the Kennedy Center now being run
By a man with no stake in the arts.
Categories:
baryshnikov, art,
Form: Rhyme
Tide out ...
Swells break far and creep slow,
sweeping tender 'cross washboard flats
where they used to dance -
where they lauded the ebullience of life
in purpose ... and pairs.
Beach ballerinas, flaunting perfect line ...
toothpick legs busy as Baryshnikov 'midst the billows,
leopard mantle still as stars
while they streaked and pattered forth-and-back,
never touching the hem of the combers.
Nature has no humor, they say ...
yet 'twas a game they played with the ocean's edge,
the sand they pranced was just as cold -
just as wet and wobbly and wild ...
it served no critical purpose to shun the wash in such diligence.
Yet they were masters of the art, and graceful,
as tho' it had been thus for eons ... and of course, it had.
That very game and dance is what I miss so dearly now,
tears disguised in the salt spray on my face,
as I pull another clump of plastic ...
From last year's nests.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Last Year's Nests" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
baryshnikov, animal, bird, environment, missing,
Form: Free verse
~~La Danse de la Poesie~~
The Dance of Poetry
A great dancer knows, the pain and practice
Of stretching, all the body, every limb.
A great dancer never disses a great dancer
as a lesser being.
I will never be a Baryshnikov with divine
style and grace.
I am lucky, if I get my feet in first place!
I am but a beginning poet, like a dancer who,
knows it's best to follow master poet's cues.
Without reading and knowing classic poetry,
I'm just a punk rock poet blowing my own horn.
at the poetry tree.
Dissing past masters as ignorant will in no
way improve my performance.
No, not in the least.
So if I want to tour jate or batmanteaue,to
fly with art across the page to you~
The classic poets, indeed will I read.
And never insult them as lesser than me.
That's cutting my own poetic brain and
not allowing the fullness of my growth
In this grand terrain, we call, poetry.
Panagiota Romios
4/17/2019
Categories:
baryshnikov, inspiration, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
This old mind works in very strange ways
Conjures up images of me doing the plié
So graceful and sweet
So light on my feet
An overweight Baryshnikov, not as graceful some say
Categories:
baryshnikov, silly,
Form: Limerick
This old mind works in very strange ways
Conjures up images of me doing a plié
So graceful and sweet
So light on my feet
An overweight Baryshnikov, not as graceful some say
© Jack Ellison 2016
Categories:
baryshnikov, silly,
Form: Limerick
Tus pequeños pies castaños
Gateando, ágiles
Pegados en las rocas
Como las patitas de una salamandra
No se aquietan
Hasta que encuentran el alto
E reposan curvándose sobre la piedra
Mientras desde allí me apuntas
Cosas que ilustran los relatos
De la vida de tu hogar
Satisfecho de que lo que me dices
Es prontamente demostrado
Sin demora quedan abajo
Impacientes
Y caminan a mí lado
Esos pies cobrizos
Cavando la arena
Formando huellas poco profundas
Saltando ligeros
Como sólo pueden
Los pies de un niño
Por entre las piedras
“Baryshnikov” dices de mofa
Reimos
Y tus pies ya se van adelante
Como señores de tu voluntad
Hasta que te vayas entero de mi
Miro las marcas dejadas
Tan poco han andado a mi lado
Estos chicos pies desnudos
Pero que gran distancia
Percorrieron en mi corazón.
Categories:
baryshnikov, adventure, beach, friend, friendship,
Form: Free verse
Tus pequeños pies castaños
Gateando, ágiles
Pegados en las rocas
Como las patitas de una salamandra
No se aquietan
Hasta que encuentran el alto
E reposan curvándose sobre la piedra
Mientras desde allí me apuntas
Cosas que ilustran los relatos
De la vida de tu hogar
Satisfecho de que lo que me dices
Es prontamente demostrado
Sin demora quedan abajo
Impacientes
Y caminan a mí lado
Esos pies cobrizos
Cavando la arena
Formando huellas poco profundas
Y saltando ligeros
Como se fueran de un niño
Por entre las piedras
“Baryshnikov” dices de mofa
Reimos
Y tus pies ya se van adelante
Como señores de tu voluntad
Hasta que te vayas entero de mi
Tan poco han andado a mi lado
Estos chicos pies desnudos
Pero que gran distancia
Percorrieron en mi corazón.
Categories:
baryshnikov, absence, adventure, friendship, travel,
Form: Free verse
The heavy lead blocks
Feeling completely spavined
Ineluctable
Zymotic gulf like nihilism
Hollow skull starved
Explodes wherein of itself
The wells enlarge
And vomit happy
Under sunken stars
As Baryshnikov they
Perform deep under laps
Enveloped lightly and kingdom come
Pallid as an interwar prostitute
The ball in the stomach floating like a foetus
Intense maladies and ulcer-bile-black night skies
Cross-hair river bed
You could chase me if you
I know where the gunshots fire
I know all the exits
Brechtian how easy into slumbers
A real face to death is an occasional depression
Categories:
baryshnikov,
Form: Free verse