Yes, I am frightened.
I am frightened of being frightened.
My unsound mind,
dwells among dark shadows quaffing silence,
where the quadriplegic dead beckon,
a sea spewing out skeletal remains
of ancient swimmers.
Sounds of calcified castanets haunt my dreams.
Accusatory cranial eyes stare at me
and bony fingers point in my direction.
My crimson blood turns blue.
Oh! The fear, the fright that one day
I too will become unfleshed like them.
.
thuh percussionists
each beats
theirn
bongoz
castanets
harps
theirn pluck
your
hips mine
'gainst
stuck'd
Lord, set me a table in Byzantium:
not the rose-colored queen of the Bosphorus,
not the city of jeweled liturgies,
but the drain where the scourings of empire collect.
Give me a rough wooden bench
and a goblet of thick southern wine
that smacks of honey and dust
in a tavern on some twisted lane away from the sea,
where a plump dancing girl of uncertain antecedents
clicks the reptilian scales of her castanets,
her gaze weighing my limbs like dubious florins,
while a one-eyed Cappadocian in the corner
thoughtfully fingers his knife.
Lord, I don’t ask for much,
only a fate I can handle.
Twilight
Tranquil country summer.
Smell the sun baked soil and thirsty blades of grass eager for the dew.
Easy. Simple. Unhurried.
Slowly swaying to nature's musical
Crickets fiddle, marsh Frogs hum bass drum and Cello trill vibrations Under bare, dirty feet.
Cattail castanets tapping to the beat.
A thrill for all the senses as the light show begins…
Each flash keeps tempo, twinkling in delightful dance!
Unveiling moments of simple summertime magic.
These nights, every blessed childhood lullaby, sweetly remembered.
ruffled high-heeled, high-haired
the Mexican diva begins the dance
her partner concentrating on her beauty
stepping automatically to the best music
welcome to the flamenco, with castanets
and jazzy snapping happy feet
Bull-black boots
stamping
like beating skin-tight drums
steel capped
with arched hands
clanking castanets
with crimson coronations
like a goldfinch neck
A guitar's fevered fret
crescendos
a rite of spring
kicking dust from bloodied boots
stomps off the romany's yoke
Her lightning fast moves mesmerized me
she’s the fastest flamenco dancer in Seville someone whispered
well practiced whirls of pinks and oranges captivated her audience
without fans, shawls or castanets
May all the sonnets in the world compiled in beauty
lend themselves to your sweet eyes of gold
may every line of of penmanship speak to you of me
showing you that ardor, still untold
and when the moon comes out to serenade you darling
send me kisses from your balcony
and when the moonlight bathes the feather's of a starling
tinted dark as heaven's ebony,
bring me all your charms and play your castanets my love
rend each doubt and join me over there
where every wingeth bird soars up like a turtle dove
and plays us music oh so fair
may every sonnet ever written call you out by name,
may every poem ever uttered be your sweet proclaim.
just three simple lines
everything you do Haiku
fishing for foibles
a dog and three pigs
coated in a wallow coat
awaiting the rain
worms, hula dancing
tiny umbrellas shield them
SPF 50
a lonely sand crab
dances with castanets
as seagull’s tango
an old pond
a cricket jumps
the sound of Basho’s frog
John G. Lawless
©2/10/2023
Castanets blazing, she twists the dress in dangerous ways
Feeling eyes on her, she is compelled to be a bit more provocative
I keep silent that she is my mother
Autumn waits on the back of September’s wings /
transforms her green to enviable hues /
the castanets of crickets like shamans sing,
chant to the moon ~ their hallowed muse.
Original date: September 19, 2022 revised on Sept. 22, 2022 for contest
For: September Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Placed 3rd in contest
Inviting you into my heart was both a blessing and a curse did you not think ?
to tell me in less reckless ways you lost yourself in this fragile dance for two
Inside this tango of passion you dipped then dropped, where was the floor ?
that swallowed me like a Spanish dancer with a Rose between her lips
Idealistic player that you are we fitted right, so what sin did I commit?
Truth be told the only one that I could think of was loving you too much
Ignoring all your calls I tried to make a life without you in it but why oh why ?
tackling all my dance moves you got me like a Flemish wounded poppet
Indian giver that you are you loved then passed it on, so why was she ?
tangerine lipped & coiffed congealed to your chest like a Minerva Goddess
Ice cream words melted from the heat, castanets clapped & where were you ?
tendencies often nothing more than Paso Doble moves for you, so you slid
Inside your wealth like a hoof. A Hexabranchus man, did you not miss?
the little doll you toyed with in Valencia while the festival of fire was going on !
August 27 2022
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13
Should a woman put on trousers?
Yep: ones that don’t men make browsers:
That let Top Secrets remain secret;
Documents eyes should not just meet:
Trousers that won’t hatch Internets,
Lust cause to beat its castanets…
Trousers fully masking Womanhood,
Easily The Misunderstood:
Sometimes, seeming to say “Draw close,
So that you may pick up your Rose…
Women may be free with trousers
But trousers could turn howitzers:
Pastors and Imams gunning down,
Priests causing to smile who should frown,
Maiden forcing to dump her gown;
Strongly shake the firmest crown!
And may men put on the skirt?
Yeah: if their trousers packed up dirt
And nearing it could image hurt
Worse than a woman’s for Shirt.
Drums and trumpets begin to play
Town marching bands now lead the way
Folks dance on streets with bright costumes
Front are floats with flowers and plumes
Floats boast the crowned single mothers
With children holding sunflowers
Other moms sway with castanets
A day in May-- no one forgets!
May 8, 2022 1.39pm
howmanysyllables.com & PS Syllable Counter
8/8/8/8 8/8/8/8
At Baguio City Flowers Festival called Panagbenga is in May along with Mother's Day
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO ALL MOTHERS IN THE WORLD!
May God bless and grant you good health everyday! You are
Dearly loved by ALL!
A Lay for A Day In May
Contest Judged: 5/15/2022 12:00:00 AM
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Place 4 (out of 5 multi-w)
My mother’s eyes of ebony, sparkling stars
Carefully, she paints her lips' gypsy red
A cascade of flowing ringlets, her hair shines from afar
Muscatels quaint flowers, she wore on her head
Her costume; polka-dot, red and white
To have spent more time with dance, her regrets
Her smell unique, perfume is there more delight?
With my small hands in hers she taught me castanets
A spirited folklore, so well I know
Flamenco music hath a far more pleasing sound
I grant I never saw a goddess glow
My mother, when she tapped, stomped the ground
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any revealed, beyond compare
Mother's Day
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