Best Pavane Poems
valse,valet a,highland fling
viola,fiddle,music string;
minuet,pavane rondeau
tripping lightly to & fro.
flirty dancing,fancy free
quick-step and ladies excuse-me;
fox trot and last waltz slow,
holding close,as passions grow.
Categories:
pavane, funny, nostalgia, social,
Form:
Light Verse
"The Pavane"
Autumn leaves
whistle nonchalantly
along the left-behind
paths of serendipity
hesitantly touch fingers
lightly for a while, tipping
lost in the wastelands
winter beckons
love unconditionally
magic listens
and arrives
in the laps go-lightly
of racing hares
tossed salad years
and marshmallow dreams
of servile tortoise
pleasantville sown seams
stitching singers sewing
covers over pea-soup ethereal
conquered territory unseen
the unconquered all-knowing, unknowing
misty consommé seas
the spinning reals
seasoning dreams
like sails
stitching the wind
of evergreen the forests
tightly held in
the in-between
dells, we dwell subservient
free becomes the
shield held over
motto lux vitae
foot to pedal
watching you
reading me
dancing the slow Pavane
fingers lightly touching
faces veiled behind screens
elaborate
clothing
autumn leaves
winter arrives
peacock moves aside
it parts the sees, in parts
lost in the wastelands
winter beckons
love unconditionally
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
lux vitae
Autumn Forest Ambience
[Music by Adrian von Ziegler -
Autumn Forest, Relaxing Celtic Music]
https://youtu.be/Ha0i6RUu_Hg
Autumn.
"The leaves are all falling,
and they're falling
like they're falling
in love with the ground."
"The first breath of autumn
was in the air, a prodigal feeling,
a feeling of wanting, taking,
and keeping, before it is too late."
Winter.
"Nothing burns like the cold."
"Winter is coming."
The Pavane/ Pavan.
A stately court processional dance where Elizabethan couples paraded around the hall lightly touching fingers. Pavane means peacock and the name of the dance derives from the sight of the trains of the women's gowns trailing across the floor like a peacock's tail.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavane
Categories:
pavane, autumn, muse, winter,
Form:
Free verse
Swinging in the pavane of love
Doves doze where ravens nest
And bells toll for sick and poor
For drifters and muggers
Jokers and jugglers
And ones who spot a dirty floor
They fly away eventually
Rejoice by chance they may
Maybe they’ll remember
When wings tomorrow fray
Oh, the bells sing for all that is
And all that isn't too
Oh, eternal bells ring for me
Chime through cracks in truth
Oh, when bells toll I never hide
From battery buzz above
Oh, bells ring for me and you
The raven and the dove
Categories:
pavane, allusion, angst, bird, music,
Form:
Rhyme
I came along with high expectation
And hopes of grandeur, instead defacement
A ruined mass of fallen structure
Displaced gray stones in random stature
A mist alighted like a screen
A passing shroud that blurred the scene
And when it lifted a man I saw
Standing by what seemed a door
With hand he beckoned fervently
Responding, I sensed his urgency
I entered the ruins like a ghost
And followed with awe my new found host
He cast my mind back to an age
of decadence, richness, hard to gauge
My eyes receptive, I was beginning to see
Its many rooms now clear to me
I stepped into a hall with floors of marble
And sweeping staircase, a sight to marvel
A gallery of oils adorned the wall
The face of my guide appeared in them all
He smiled at me as I gasped in wonder
At the treasure to view on which to ponder
Porcelain, tapestry, it had the lot
Even a dance floor for pavane and gavotte
Four poster beds with embroidered drapes
The smell of must was hard to take
From mullioned window I glimpsed the lake
With swans and ducks I make no mistake
Manicured lawns and statuettes
Embraced the lawns like silhouettes
Reflecting the atmosphere at this time
A faraway bell had started to chime
What happened here I asked the man
Squandered by me and the rest of the clan
We waged a bet and sadly lost
It all went, at such great cost
The toll of the bell was getting louder
He turned to go, he was losing his power
Fast fading before my very eyes
Now in the ruins and the demise
I browse the toppled masonry
I sense his smile, his presence, his waving hand
Once garden, in place the moss and ivy grow
With sad reflection I turn to go
Categories:
pavane, appreciation,
Form:
Ballad
Shall we dance
Shall we dance, Mystery Woman, shall we dance?
Shall we tango with words, slowly, to learn
Each other ‘s rhythms of wit and being?
Shall we dance a pavane of polite conversation,
In orderly procession of statement and reply,
Graceful development of theme and variation?
Indeed. Let us dance. Let us waltz towards
Assonance or dissonance, when the floor becomes
Crowded with swirling, twirling, dancers,
Or empties into hollow phantoms of memory.
Let us dance.
Come, let us send felicitations and formal invitations,
Let us share our cogitations and wild imaginations,
Full of wry observations and subtle intimations;
Written to rain’s roaring, hissing inundation and the
Throaty punctuation of frogs ‘neath the warm precipitation.
Let us dance.
For who can tell, with certain prognostication
If our feet will entangle in clumsy dis-coordination;
Or Fred and Ginger the world, at our integration
Into a perfect, combination.
Let us talk, with caution, doubtfulness and hesitation,
Touched with optimism; ignoring past complications
With only future contemplation.
Shall we engage with witty conversation and bold
Determination, to see what might be?
Shall we dance, Mystery Woman, shall we dance?
Categories:
pavane, imagery, romance, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
Music of life, she alone, chooses.
Though a host others, think, she loses?
She tourjettes high, above life’s discords,
Leaps to Ravel’s melodious chords.
Loss and pain are her greatest gain.
Gratitude, raises her high above pain.
“Pavane for a Dead Princess”,how it moves her.
Adorned, in purple, in front of her gold, leafed mirror.!
Purple-satin toe shoes, tied around beautiful legs.
Her wish, to dance forever, of God, she begs!
2/2/2023
Categories:
pavane, beauty, color, imagery, introspection,
Form:
Couplet
Pavane for my dead daughter
So Innocent
So Chaste
So young
Unfulfilled
She died in my arms in the courtyard
The courtyard of my villa in Spain
What had she done to deserve this?
What had I done?
Is there nothing up THERE?
No Pity
No love
Above
How dare THEY preach of love?
My hatred knows no bounds
I’d crucify HIM once again
And again and again
I sit with her in my arms
In the courtyard
The courtyard of my villa in Spain
I’ll lead the sad Pavane
The sad processional dance
For my darling daughter
I am bereft
What had she done to deserve this?
Categories:
pavane, death, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Shall we dance
Shall we dance, Mystery Woman, shall we dance?
Shall we tango with words, slowly, to gently build
Some common understanding of each other’s
Rhythms of thought and being?
Shall we dance a pavane of polite conversation,
In orderly procession of statement and reply,
Point and counterpoint, graceful development
Of theme and variations?
Indeed. Let us dance. Let us waltz towards
Some decisive moment when the music resolves into
Assonance or dissonance, and the floor becomes
Crowded with swirling, twirling, dancers,
Or empties into hollow phantoms of memory.
Let us dance.
Categories:
pavane, dance, metaphor, music,
Form:
Rhyme
they change the sheets
once a week
the blue men pass in pairs
matching cadence
marking the hour
staring into vacant eyes
in four-square cells
passing as if no one was there
but if eyes could grasp
there would be finger marks
around pencil necks
I only know what I can see
between steel rods
and wired glass aglow
distorting figures like sides of beef
hanging in a meat locker
waiting to be drawn and quartered
into 5 lb. slabs
displayed in glass cases
inspected by schlubs
slavering at the mouth
like ravenous dogs
ready to rip into sinew and bone
sparing no mercy or expense
on trophies of the hunt
we mind the hours
silent and alone
awaiting a call
that never comes
the bell signals curfew
night commands the hour
dreams begin their languorous pavane
and sounds die into the night
— o soul
show me how to live
before I die —
Categories:
pavane, poems,
Form:
Free verse
valse valet highland fling
viola fiddle
music string
minuet
pavane rondeau
tripping lightly
to & fro
dancing fancy free
quick-step
& ladies excuse-me
fox trot &
last waltz slow
holding close
as passions grow
dance craze
jive skip hip-hop
twirl forward
jump and stop
through the legs
over the back
to
rock 'n roll
Categories:
pavane, dance, music,
Form:
Rhyme
Light makes lustrous the green of the leaves above;
Waving forest hands, calming gestures, luminous
Antidotes to stress.
The movement of the air is no more than a cool breath,
Down here, amongst the ferns and boulders,
Grey from lichen.
A sudden clapping of wings startles, as was the bird;
Yet stillness returns, save for distant voices,
The world without.
Thoughts slow, rumination gives way to contemplation;
Magically, the mind reaches into memory, to music,
Summoning soothing melodies.
Notes fall, in elegant cadence, onto the inner ear;
A joy-filled phrase brings the comfort of familiarity,
Remembered forest murmurings.
The crevices of the mind, recently obese with anxieties,
Fill instead with haunting rhythms, hungry for
Their healing balm.
Each step becomes a dance, a graceful pavane;
Sure footed, guided by the music, cushioned by
The softness beneath.
Time slows, the moment lingers, reluctant to escape;
The music plays, filling body, soul and mind,
Bringing peace.
Categories:
pavane, anxiety, green, music, tree,
Form:
Free verse
they change the sheets
once a week
the blue men pass in pairs
marking the hour
matching cadence smartly
staring at vacant eyes
in four-square cells
passing as if no one was there
but if eyes could grasp
there would be fingerprints
around pencil necks
I only know what I can see
between steel rods
and wired glass aglow
distorting figures like sides of beef
in a meat locker
waiting to be drawn and quartered
into 12 lb. slabs displayed in glass cases
inspected by schlubs
slavering at the mouth
like ravenous dogs
ready to rip into sinew and bone
like angry dogs
sparing no mercy or expense
on trophies of the hunt
we mind the hours
silent and alone
awaiting a call
that never comes
the bell signals curfew
night commands the hour
dreams begin their languorous pavane
and sounds die into the night
— o soul
show me how to live
before I die —
Categories:
pavane, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
2. Aria
Twain kindred souls start slow and reunite,
Same as lovers who split and then made up,
Though, twas a mere slow dance, a Pavane,
Taming a dance floor with their passive feet,
As Faure's piece fades, delayed music mix,
Next, a minuet by Beethoven in G Major, No 2,
Couples one hand clasped together both leads,
Men's other handheld scepters extend outward,
While the ladies other handholds to their dresses,
As the tipsy tune plays like a Lawrence Welk Show.
Now a livelier pace quickens hearts and dancers alike,
For it is a waltz by Johann Strauss' Acceleration Waltz,
Stimulates even barstool occupant whose head swoon,
An ever do-nothing lethargic will enable them to move,
One-step two-step then turn and bow to your partners.
Lovers exchange worshipping lips more than small kisses,
As the orchestra prepares for their tune, rather off-tuned,
Nonetheless, a number by Puccini's Nessum Dorma sung,
Magically, breaths held, as his name was just announced,
The virtuoso, Luciano Pavarotti will sing that famous aria.
2020 January 11
Categories:
pavane, motivation, music,
Form:
Free verse
as he reads the
morning journals
tasting fresh coffee
while, listening
to Pavane
there i stood
this i
truly know,
that my
daddy loves
me so,
because he
sent me
all the way
to the
university
where i earned
all of my degrees
thus, a Rhodes Scholar
in academia
in following
all of thy dreams
all of thy passions
and i
love you
more, daddy
Categories:
pavane, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
on crenshaw
carousing in cavernous cafes
slicing into earthen skin
the meat dancers bring it to a boil
they murder the rug
they scrounge for earth worms
the fish head girls bob like sea birds
telephoning purple mermaids for a date
they have no name tags and no flowers
they sing sad madrigals to the starfish
they know this is the last pavane
the final curtsy before night goes down
before morning arises under white sheets
loosening the brain screws
burning the instruction manuals
imbibing the nylon remonstrations
on crenshaw
a lonely woman croons
an oozing torch song to the dirt people
they sit erect in a dark morgue
chittering like insects
singing cool blues music to the meat dancers
they bring it to a boil
with burgers bullets and beef cake
genius guitar freak vivisects clawing time
he twangs his axe with a searing solo
he plays psychedelic lullabies to the dead
his music torturing the earth worms
Categories:
pavane, america, memory,
Form:
Free verse