Best Tightropes Poems
"Tightropes of the Three Graces"
Tightropes
for hanging clothes
on a line
each piece
pegged wooden
held between closed fences
misfortune's breeze lifts
sleeves like covers
pointing the way home
books and their pages
for The Davenport dancers
all's well that ends well
scene perfect
imperfect fortunes
throughout their ages
the balancing act
seeking Life’s rhyme
saving fates in stages
odd numbers
are never easy,
never graceful
the balancing acts,
tightropes
of the Graces
saving fates in 3 stages
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
mlb, klb, llb
Édouard Bisson , French Pre-Raphaelite
“Die drei Grazien”, 1899
Hans Baldung, German Renaissance and Mannerism
“Three Ages of Man”, 1541 -1544
“Three Graces”, 1539
Sandro Botticelli, Italian Renaissance
“The Three Graces”, 1485 - 1487
"Logos"
always there
walking tightropes
beside me
pre-existent
logos walking
parting
waves in air
I turn my back
on eyes that speak
lost knowledge imprint
I turn my back
on recalcitrant
childhood dreams
I turn around ;
you,
the shadow
still seen
a ghost
haunting
persistent
remain
still there,
as if
in dream
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
klb, mlb
gvlm
“Logos” / Ludovico Einaudi
https://youtu.be/teq60vwY7g0
a pen dipped in blood
as is a robe
so writes a mind
now is unrobed
Logos
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Logos_(Christianity)
https://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Logos
Logo
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Logo
The blind and the weary, are up from the trenches
To climb into chaos, they'll walk across tightropes
where no one has noticed the ebb and the sway
Now lost in the fury, they are mixed in the slurry
where mindless distraction has swallowed the day
They scatter their money on things that won't matter
Like hunters, they gather, checking their watches
Shattering silence with small satisfaction
No cause for reflection, and nothing to say
Searching for something. At what price the glory
While nothing of value, piles high to the rafters
Tumbling downward, into cobwebs and corners
Cracking the shell of a world that is hollow
leaving behind only yokes that are gray
______________________________________________________
For Contest Sponsored By Silent One "A Poem About A Song"
Based on the Song: "Mad World" 5/24/17
"Intermission: Flutterby Reveille"
Impromptu like a moth
pale words flutter out of his
psychodelic mind
curious funny flutterby…
for a second then, I didn't move,
deadpan, I said,
"... try again with some panache, some style"
incredulously, I smiled,
he's tripping guitar leads
counting long-tooth years
and numbers between drum beats
here no rest for the wicked, we...
hear pretty worded poets
walk on tip toe
balancing wet bars
on bipolar tightropes
shaking up and banging upside down
all the pretty snowglobes
In his land of silent muses
driving as he wrote
Singing “Every Little Breeze Seems to Whisper Louise's”
Pushing the envelope
aside, he writes,
retirement is a caged zoo
he gets high on cryptic puzzles
and cracking her
Sudoku
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Breakfast Reveille:
The Angels, “Take a Long Line”
https://youtu.be/4LdZAK2Rfkg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://youtu.be/4bWsbCpCwOg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/angels/rhythmrudegirl.html
I miss you more than sky is blue
Piercing sunlight from beyond;
Days made old and mind anew
My weariness like a song:
When up is down too many few
Tightropes when you’re gone.
Needing you more than oceans deep
Currents in the flow;
Wide awake or drifting sleep
Lying in pure snow:
If I should die my soul to keep
Wherever you may go.
Remember me when I have sailed
To that far away world of dreams;
Think well of me though I have failed
From time to time it seems:
While upon my ship I’ll man the rails
In search of your endless lighthouse beam.
Maple and Cherry Oak
deciduous delight;
a new wardrobe.
Another marriage;
violent waterways
racing traffic.
Cremation of
fallen family
lingers onward.
Reincarnated
sweet scent--
Lavender & Lilacs.
Desiring exactly
what we despise
as dreams drown.
Twenty branches above
percussion solos begin
between wings while
lead singers gather on
electrical tightropes
of music notation.
Trade-winds whisper
as the ocean above
remains motionless.
Until next
December my
dear winter.
The iciness of his smile
seeped like osmosis through the crevices
left on my face by the squint rooted
on fires of a loud and angry sun.
A tempest stormed across the dusty, red sky
following the wake of his Packard of no color.
His eyes with their misted askant look
found us like the rain
and the dark clouds took cover.
Unowned feathers fled the frightened fields
like tumbleweeds amid superior dusts of sleep
wielding easily the pale club of the wind
and swirling the soul of a flower strike.
- an utter-able chill -
Where lurched the deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned new fragile yellows?
Spoiled and stale like the scant and stunted ears of corn
not able to sprinkle the acres
that had fallen into battlefields.
Picket's Charge in woods that stuttered and clapper-clawed
songs that stirred the few scrawny birds that stayed on.
Sharecroppers in the Dust Bowl
walked on loose strands of primitive tightropes.
One could hear the blast across the Great Plains
all the way to Boise City.
Blood oozed from the side of my palate,
decadal fertilizer at long last leaching the dry ground.
As I lay dying -
he reached toward the heavens – swanking the deed
and cackling like a hexed slime eel.
We were visiting good old Niagara Falls, the most beautiful place on earth. With its waterfall cadences and fresh lit sun, who could ask for anything more. Hand in hand we strolled together wearing summer sandals light as air. We talked and spoke of days to come, how we'd make a family together some day.
Lovers in love
two linen gloves
fitted just right
There were acrobats, jugglers on tightropes, and children rippling the air with their tinkling laughter. Together we aimed at little yellow ducks and won the grand prize. Hugging Mrs. Jewel Bug, we walked away kissing beneath a bluest sky dappled with cotton candy clouds and morning sighs. Since we stayed longer than expected, we stopped by a little Cafe and drank frothy cappuccinos to our hearts content.
full-fledged memories
golden colored hours
days gone by
Those were the days of impulsive escapades, endless surprises and pleasant up-comings. Moments of mindlessness existence in a lifetime yet to be unspun. Today the mortgage is paid and the children left home. My favorite juggler is in heaven waiting for an old tattered Jewel bear and a swollen gal with a heart pliable as ghee. I smile at the thought that one day I will join him. We'll drink foamy coffees and watch the trapeze artists spin, swing and fly. They will hang off ropes made of stars and moonbeams, just like us.
suddenly from somewhere, a street urchin
an untamed bird of the wider sky
dropped down into the circus tent.
before him unfurled, scenes eerie, awesome!
soaring lions and tigers, gibbering baboons,
caravans of camels, animal tamers and acrobats,
artists balancing on poles,
swinging from bars to trapeziums,
pliant girls with plastic limbs and pouting breasts,
walking on tightropes.
a strange world with beasts and men!
his face painted white.
in motley dress, he was arrayed,
and a tall tapering cap placed
on his forcibly tonsured head.
he hardly knew what it all meant.
he heard the bells ringing
and it was time for the show.
he was told; he would henceforth be a clown
and should make people laugh.
* * * *
a thousand sunsets passed him by.
he forgot the familiar alleys of the streets.
lost sight of the endless pathways of the sky.
lost in a world,
so populous- so empty.
he buried him, in the hidden caverns of himself,
nursing a hundred bruises
inflicted by Time’s sharp razors.
a stranger to himself.
at times, tears long held back,
would trickle down, moistening his pillow
as he lay listening to the inner ravings of his heart.
often, he was reminded-
‘you should make others laugh’
he did make people laugh
while a fountain of tears still lay frozen,
in the slivers of his broken heart.
Amazing acrobats astound awe-stricken audiences. Amy always asks about acts already arranged.
Bouncing bears balance beach balls. Bobby Bear bicycled behind Betsy Bear.
Crazy clowns crash carelessly. Carousels circle clockwise.
Daring demonstrations dazzle dazed dreamers. Dopey donkeys dance diligently.
Elegant elephants elate everyone, eating everything enjoyable. Eight elephants execute exciting entertainment.
Forty-five feisty flamethrowers fiercely fight fires.
Great Gambino gulps gigantic gems gingerly, giving gasping gazers giggles. Genuine gigantic gorillas gaze goofily.
Hefty horses heave hefty hounds, howling harmoniously. Heavyweights hurl hug hippos. “Hasn’t hurt him,” Hugo Heavy huffed.
Iris indicated it’s impolite if I’m interested in inquiring into immersion into icing.
Joshua juggled joyfully. Jeremiah just jumped jackasses.
Kissing kangaroos kiss kids kindly. Karate kicking kids keep kicking.
Lions lounge lavishly leaving lookers laughing loudly. Lollipop licking llamas licked Lional Lion lovingly.
Many men make mountainous merriment. Mules march, munching Mayberries.
Nineteen nutty nags named Nancy nudge naysayers near nets.
Orange orangutans obey old-timers, opening obese objects.
Portly Peter Penguin parades past pretty Penny Penguin. Penny paused, politely preening. People purchase peanuts.
Quilting-bee queens quickly quiet quails. Quarantined quibbling quackers quickly quiet.
Rabbits run rampant. Robert requests refreshments.
Silly seals steamroll stalled stallions, snorting soundly. Six stallions stomp successively, surrounding such silly seal.
Tumblers take to the trapeze. Three tall tents tower, taller than two tightropes, two trapezes, three tumblers.
Ursula untied ugly umbrellas.
Vexed Venetians volleyed violently.
Wondrous wide-eyed watchers wooed weighted-down wagons.
X-rays x-hausted Xena
Youngsters yelled, yanks yelped.
Zany Zelda’s zebras zigzagged.
coconut-
man gambling his way
walks tightropes
subjugates
gravity, among the fronds
grabbing water seeds
TEXAS
Is a vast place, bigger than France, and in many ways much more interesting.
El Capitan reef, the Pecos, the Panhandle, all conjure up more imagination
Than a truckload of Monmartres, a shovelful of escargot, or a herd of poodles
Heaven for me must have stetsons and not guys with chic scarves and wineglasses,
Women who can jump a quarter-horse and round up a hundred maverick longhorn,
Not wasp-waisted scowlers with absurd dresses mincing on imaginary tightropes
I saw blue memoirs fell from momma's eyes, as she looked into my brown retinas. Swiftly she removed my medicated glasses, a dominant gene I carved out from papa's bottled eyes. "Oh! sorry D!," She whispered! "Its just a matter of time new sores become old sores and grow to mature into scars" she cried as she looked into my eyes. Eventide dawned upon us like golden mist as I was flown into the nurses moonlit; in a bird with twinkling red optical, double paired rubber legs, iron facials. The nurses at stand dished us mother care attention. Ice dangled in her eyes. Momma is smiling joy painfully at me. As I stole
a look at her brown embattled face, I pictured her retinas glued to drenches. The ice now fell from her eyes. With my octopus years, my feet has trod this egg shaped earth.
And the world seemed to pass so swiftly on me like a shutter's speed. I could see the skyline walking on the tightropes of my memories, like flashbacks in a cinema film, laying on
this medic bed. My belly could only be facing down while my electrified toasted back kissed the wind escaping in through the casement.---yak!!!!
And the only mirror I could have afforded to reflect my per boiled back is my momma's pair of brown camera eyes, but here they are ice dank. I thought. It could be fun and warmly, laying on the pressing iron, left on the bed in our unisex room, after long being used by aunt Lydia. I couldn't tell its degrees with my brownie eyes. But my steamed back did, so it kissed it metal surface---and here we are, " In a toast of roastful love,' underneath nurses moonlit with
my mauve skin.
And the needles! o no! I hated needles. Two prickles a day!, yahhhk! my bum bum like Evans rickety bike. I heard Evans my best pal crying along in the neighborhood, while I was being rushed into the medic bird. With his grey coloured panties, hung on his waist like tarzan.
He did be jerking bitterly. I and Evans jolly good mates had known each other since the neighborhood old. His curly dark hair, and owl eyes tells you he is indian...
An excerpt from my book " momma's camera eyes"
29/4/2022
I chose to tell my Little Lie
To the world, and to a friend –
Just this once – myself I told –
And never more again
I spoke it nonchalantly
Yet – slowly – did exhale
My breathing thin and shallow
I struggled to inhale
It dropped into the Lap of Time
As if it there belonged
Perfect as the perfect chord
Within the perfect song –
At first ‘twas held in high regard
By Universal Sign
By Pundit and by Media
The praise was mine – all Mine!
For days I reveled – Revered! –
By throngs and multitudes
High upon my perch I sat
My claim to fame approved –
Though Grace and Fortune smiled on me
My Inner State – Rebelled –
-- Tightropes pale in mock compare
To Nerves so overwhelmed!
And then the sleight unraveled
‘Twas but a Blue Bird’s call
And then the Little Lie I told
With me – in flames – did fall
The Greatest Show on Earth
Mr. Pik lived alone, across our street -
All the kids knew him, dressed up so neat;
Mr. Pik loved the circus – every kind -
Each year, in our mailbox, tickets, we’d find;
So much excitement - growing every day -
Circus, the topic, when we went to play.
We watched the clock tick away afternoon -
Finally night came - for us none too soon.
Girls dressed in dresses - shoes - patent leather -
Boys in bow ties - no matter the weather;
Families scrunched in old station wagons -
Sounding just like an asthmatic dragon;
Seven miles from the big top we could taste
Popcorn and peanuts, oh please, do make haste;
Ladies and gentlemen, look here and see
The ringmaster pointed us to ring three;
First came the clowns with red funny noses
Squirting the crowd – water from fake roses;
Next, the acrobats riding sleek horses,
Purples plumes on their heads – never off course;
Lions and tigers - elephants, oh my -
Animals exotic paraded by;
Walkers on tightropes left us all breathless –
Covered our eyes, watching never the less;
Finally the last act – our hearts would seize -
Daring young man on the flying trapeze;
Sleepy eyes closing on the ride home -
Night at the circus so like a poem;
Rollicking, boisterous evening of mirth
Mr. Pik’s gift – the greatest show on earth.
Every year our neighbor, Mr. Pik - a widower - would treat the neighborhood to a night at the circus.
I know thought has changed about having wild animals in the circus but in my childhood they were a part of the show.
5/2/20