Best Swan Poems
Like delicate white swans were they,
the white swans of a grand ballet -
ballerinas waiting in a row
underneath the candlelight’s soft glow.
But what are ballerinas with no parts
to make them dance? The poet gives them hearts!
Inking pirouettes and sautés onto white,
she gave them words to spin them into night.
Arabesques that her pen on each one pressed
made a woeful tale beautifully expressed.
The dance was finishing by early dawn
with one last white swan to be written on.
The poetess, now drained, could do no more.
Her eyelids closed; the swans fell to the floor.
Fluttering, they fell, all in disarray.
Pure white no more, ink-stained they would stay.
Tears the poet cried are now living in each swan.
Might they be displayed even when she passes on?
The poetess who let her feelings spill
created swans now black, yet lovely still.
Written May 25, 2017 for a Contest inspired by Dear Heart
The Swan
Feathers floating in the wind
Perform in slow motion,
Each drift into the shadows of yesterday
She is not me -- She is not you!
A theme, upon a morning crystal view.
She truly is the wind
She is like the sun
She is as beautiful as the moon
She is the magic in your eyes.
On this night,
-She sits on the calm waters of your reflection.
Creating love, to the vows of life
She listens and counts the rhythm in the stars
She is a thief who stole every breath before
And Still---
She is the breeze
The tranquil sound, in every perfect pitch
The gleam in your eyes.
In you, she sees the ocean
Swims with open confidence
Together love holds on to every tide
Every feather kept dry and warm
- during the perfect storm -
Her wings ache with pain
That is why!
She is the essence of beauty and grace
She is the reason to smile
She is the flame
She is everything in your eyes.
Graceful feathers in the wind.
To dream the dreams of the awakened
She might just be me, she might just be you!
"Till Death Do We Part."
“Swans”
-the symbols of everlasting love-
~*~
Every day with practice in tights and leotard
Her spring cherry lips sprout in the imprint of joy
A mind without fear...she was born to dance
A girl who can perform classical ballet,
long before she has learned to spell her own name
As a swan in graceful movements,
engulfed in the magic of movement and light
The emotions are pulled through her skin
with a flowing inspiration
exactly on the right technique
The eagerness, the curiosity and the wonder
in every tiny step
In a romantic white tutu with red sequins
Exquisite movements and the choreography divine
She could have been the swan princess in the ballet
Swan Lake with music by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
The wings of a bird that is still too young
the fire is burning in her future dreams
(Best read with this poem's theme music playing)
"BLACK SWAN THEORY"
Free Agent
Black Swan Theory
White Pearl rolling in
Some kind of Black Pearl World
Black Swan Theory
Decoded, Fragile Love Songs Broken in
Some Kind of Black Pearl World
Red Shoes Dance Home with the Witch-Way Girl
Decoded, Fragile Love Songs Broken in
Free Agents' Escape Dossier, you’re handed free tokens
Red Shoes Dance Home with the Witch-Way Girl
Vapid Vanilla Kisses, Black Marzipan my Villain's Secret Kisses Unfurl
Free Agents' Escape Dossier, you’re handed free tokens
Love’s Bullets melting Hot Ice Heart
Vapid Vanilla Kisses, Black Marzipan my Villain's Secret Kisses Unfurl
Diamond Hieroglyphics My Windows on Your World
(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
"rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno"
"Subway"/Peter Murphy
https://youtu.be/iiUOUNubUW4
https://genius.com/Peter-murphy-subway-epilogue-lyrics
The Moon, The Swan, The Rose
I see an enchanted image that you’ve never dreamed of
With reflections twinkling while dancing on wave drops
Of a dreamy blue lake that is a mirror of one white swan
A dancing beauty with a pureness that blesses this water
She floats like a princess with such an elegance and grace
As splendor ripples through a lens of her divine existence
A canvas painting as one masterpiece beyond compare
As the moonlight manifests a sweet rose in my dreams
Beautiful to desire now that nothing shall be disturbed
Within a frozen memory a brilliant diamond illuminates
As the full moon’s image enters the depths of her soul
And a sad, certain loneliness leaves her spirit exhausted
Arising before my eyes on the wings of angels I see all
Clearly now with an excited, fluttering magical heartbeat
Believe me—that this eternal blue sky is incredibly real
With a golden orb of light colors reflecting so exquisitely
Now as majestic images of God’s Heaven appear above
I see His very image of the Moon, the Swan, and the Rose
Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 2, 2015 (Unrhymed Tercet)
Swans so gracefully gliding o'er lake
Delightful scenery they create
Dressed all in white feather finery
True beauties of the lake dynasty.
Falling in love with love forever
Swan mates dance on water together
Singing a swan lake song as they roam
The glorious lake they've made their home.
When swans in love kiss with a beak peck
A heart shape appears betwixt their necks
A smaller vision between the eyes
Romanticism in lake's paradise.
Swans raise their precious baby cygnets
Till they've grown to become strong and fit
Off to their own world they glide away
The circle of life in a relay.
Elegant they live, with poise they die
On angelic wings away they fly
Then when they've entered through heaven's gate
Swans will sage nirvana with lake sate.
Every year from spring through fall, if you peered between the cattails you could see the swans in the center of the pond, head to head, their love peering back. On the pond's edges, from the tops of lily pads, frogs were singing of love's song as dragon flies frolicked gleefully above. We would sit and watch them countless hours, day after day as they gracefully swayed to the rhythm encircled in the reflections of love. One year in the dawning of spring, he returned alone, we watched him slowly swim with downcast head to the center of the pond, within the shadows of lost love he'd pause in the ripples that surrounded him, his sadness reaching the edges of the pond, where abandoned lily pads tilted downward caught in the spirals of his lonely tears. He still comes to the pond, muddied and alone from spring through fall, through clouded eyes we still watch him swim, wreathed within his pain we taste his loneliness.
head downcast, he swims
enclosed in the pond's ripples
his tears splashing back
October 12, 2019
Writing Challenge, October, 2019 -Bird-
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
swan lake
a feather falls
silently
"Who's woods are these anyway'.
Who's woods that I dwell?
The house of Usher I know so well.
I seek to skate on the frozen lake.
These woods are deep, dark, and weak.
Though I would dance like a swan if I could.
The lake is always frozen this time of year.
How I love the night woods that cover me.
Under the bulging night skies of death.
Beyond the place of wrath and tears.
I would dance upon the lake till not.
Alluring, always caressing in a gentle touch.
I would be remembered as " The Great Swan".
Though here I sit in my bed chamber of death.
And wait for God to call my name.
1 pm wed. 7 / 24 / 2013, " House of Usher" stands for death, " right" the woods are a metaphor for the sick body.
The Moon, The Swan, The Rose
I see an enchanted image that you’ve never dreamed of
With reflections twinkling while dancing on wave drops
Of a dreamy blue lake that is a mirror of one white swan
A dancing beauty with a pureness that blesses this water
She floats like a princess with such an elegance and grace
As splendor ripples through a lens of her divine existence
A canvas painting as one masterpiece beyond compare
As the moonlight manifests a sweet rose in my dreams
Beautiful to desire now that nothing shall be disturbed
Within a frozen memory a brilliant diamond illuminates
As the full moon’s image enters the depths of her soul
And a sad, certain loneliness leaves her spirit exhausted
Arising before my eyes on the wings of angels I see all
Clearly now with an excited, fluttering magical heartbeat
Believe me—that this eternal blue sky is incredibly real
With a golden orb of light colors reflecting so exquisitely
Now as majestic images of God’s Heaven appear above
I see His very image of the Moon, the Swan, and the Rose
Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 2, 2015 (Unrhymed Tercet)
You are a jeweled gift sparkling diamond rock temple
One of thousand in the world touched petal by petal
Skies above true blue wrapped cotton white emotions
Arches over our earthly plains east to west one circle
Inside silk ribbon feelings tie the knot perfectly
With wings of a swan bound unto you eternally
In you who crowns the heart with passions ignite magic
When the sky was falling into the promised land chants
Carnation of a flower deeply stirring dewdrops rose
In light of the rainbow mountains shone glitter dust
Loving you morning and night never goes out of fashion
Amor helped to ignite flames that burn purely with love
A Collaborated Poem
Anne-Lise Andresen and Liam Mc Daid
07.09.2016
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
The silent swan glides
Her plumage falls softly in
The ripples of tossed coins
Far from the fountain's edge
Where lost promises linger
In the fading dusk of night
Unnoticed, she takes flight
Leaving behind a trail of
Black feathers drifting on
The tranquil water's flow
Her departure, a whispered
Goodbye in the still air,Where
fond affection once blossomed ,
amidst the fragrance of yellow lilies
and forgotten dreams
Her reflection, a final
Farewell in quiet memory,
As she fades away, unseen.
Forever Unseen.
" In titanium haze of love,
truth is but a mere lie,
never unlocking gold vaults
of feelings, for,
honesty weeps somewhere
in perfumed odes of
inkless pages,
hidden in our forlorn fate..."
If twilight roses were
reincarnated angels,
they would carve
a zillion destinies
with feathered letters,
flickering beneath
butterfly glitters,
adhering glossy
wings of rosemary,
like a balm to
invisible scars
and encasing
my soul in a
hundred hues
of blood.
But, I never knew,
the secrets of
nebulous-cloaked
vengeance which
infused in
nightingale's
forevermore fortunes,
echoing eerie whispers
in elora moors of
scarlet jasmines,
at the jinx of
midnight's omen;
for thou emerged
as a lover in
ninety-nine novels,
but a guised
killer in the
farewell fantasy.
As I float by,
in the swan lake,
losing myself to thee,
I wish upon
defrosting your eyes,
that got submerged
beneath icebergs
of betraying harbinger
and bleed my soul
in frosted heart's
snow-sealed
milky ways,
as these flaked
clayey leaf
pamphlets of
sakura scents
aren't enough
to erase thy
fingerprints from this
poisoned chalice,
that sung sinful
serenades in
deadly paradise
of Eurydice
and sliced my spirit
to sooty shreds,
in this diamond dungeon
behind sage valleys.
Laced in
ash grey lies,
I'm a corpse
enveloped in
crimson croons
of confetti,
whilst lips
soak acrylic
dewdrops of
melting roses,
that once
blanketed our
eden in the
arms of heaven,
with starlit petals.
So, as Nymph,
in the orisons,
with hemlock
fused heart,
be all my sins
remembered.
For, love is a
smoke raised
with the fume
of sighs, demising
to sacrificed
meadows, where,
this kismet tale
departs in the
very ecstacy
of cradling mist,
and thus,
with disoriented
twilight's kiss, I die.
Pirouetting leaves,
Wafting to the water's edge:
Pizzicato breeze.
sea-urchins in rock pools –
the flesh, a delicacy –
sparkle –
protected from the ocean
where anemones proliferate –
by a mist-glistening
heart shaped rock:
the keeper of my secrets –
a cache of memories
of mornings snorkelling
surface
eddy on the periphery
—homesick for my roots—
a keeper lost to shifting tides
white horses
masking risk in its wake …
a plastic wrapped sushi tray
on the kitsch kitchen counter
awash with the detritus of daily life—
a cold cup of coffee
milk skin
swirling like
liquescent marmoris
fluctuant under
fractured light
tender moments
where flaws hide in the spotlight
Laetrile induced
unsettling riptides
where occasionally colour swirls
marbling visions
the future liquescent …
I’m drowning in
proposals of memories
to be made with loved ones
family secrets to
be offered up
a dish that could be as
risky as Omakase …
smiling indulgently with my eyes
as a mirror-smooth ocean –
a north-westerly wind
whipping up the occasional white horse –
hides its turbulent depths
so a state of amenomania
settles over me
the final images
– as requested –
the secrets of my life
tucked away in an abditory—
eddying between past and future
the key to
unlocking it
—left in their hearts—