Best Nostalgiadance Poems
Refrain:
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.
O day most callous like the callous world, how
Did you come about? By whose love designed,
Whose genius bore him, gave him life? O now
Do tell us of his human coming, since maligned
It's oft forgotten that he was somebody's child
Context in a world where his skin was reviled:
And yet some marveled that he parted from it
To build a world different from base to summit.
Genius is a gift and not a choice, and he was all
A moment's glimpse of earth's troubled paradise
For Michael was not mere mortal he was our tall
Selves transformed to art, so nuanced to the wise
That understood how his dance moves were silk
Syllables of protest and regret, a symbol cocooned
In loneliness, a man pining for the rare social milk
Of happiness against a material breast, festooned
With a race unhappiness. He was more than we
Saw with naked eye, Michael was an artist true
Context in all our history. And yet his mortality
Was not less not vulnerable due to fame, a blue
Note then sing for him, remember this day's despair
How the fickle fans in fragile praise came again
Away from the media's maddening glare to share
This moment of dark our universal deluge of pain.
O Indiana, this is your son, O America this here
Is your native child, weep here ye poets, weep
For him, the poet of the broken soul, Let no tear
Leave a eye that's dry for the lullaby of his sleep
Come ye world that felt his charity, beg angels
Hear us and welcome him; Michael, forever we
Will keep our hearts beating for you, in citadels
Of shining peace when your songs bring memory.
Summertime memories of better days
Playing outside way past dark
Bungalo was the community pool
Church picnics at Dutch Hill Park
Sliding boards and old metal swings
A box for the little ones filled with sand
There were monkey bars and seesaws
A merry go round that we turned by hand
A pavilion full of picnic tables
Where neighbors sat together to eat
And the old beat up wooden dance hall
That gave little relief from the heat
Usually they had a polka band
Playing polkas, waltzes and rock n’ roll
Wooden floor jammed with people dancing
Those memories touch my soul
Sometimes we’d run down to the baseball field
Play ball until we were soaked in sweat
Or sneak down the woods when we got a chance
We’d all have a cigarette
Then we would walk back to the picnic
Get food at the concession stand
Carry it over to the dance hall
And listen to the band
The picnics lasted until late at night
Neighbors sat talking and having a good time
A hamburger was only twenty cents
And a beer was only a dime
Take me back to those innocent days
Where my memories still roam
To church picnics at Dutch Hill Park
Saints Peter and Paul and Saint Jerome.
When the tender dawn awakes
I sit on the crossroads of life
A basket full of daffodils
And a song bird by my side
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
Across the mountain I fly
Searching peace and love
And when a vale or meadow
That I find enchanting
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
The open sky, the open road
Is what I call home
Between the trees, around the swamp
Where dark eyed maidens dance and charm
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
Along the watery paths
Where ships on silver slide
I visit ancient tombs
Of prophets and seers
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
I learn wisdom from the Incas
And partake in the dance along the Nile
But when the shadows darken
I return to my mystical fire
My gypsy blood still sings
Giving me golden wings