4:45 pm
The sun exhales
“another Thursday”
Slipping o’er the horizon
Shadows play tag
With rush hour traffic
School busses long for Friday
Red lights and STOP signs
Choreograph their dance
The homeless gather cardboard
Waiting outside the shelter
A warm night not a guarantee
The moon sighs
Images from a cogged box.
A camera reveals
hips and ankles, ribbons
decorously draped
over a contrived modesty.
An artist has added a color tint,
their cheeks are rosy,
their lips red,
a patchwork of painted glow.
Half revealed bosoms flush and bloom.
Pauses in an upper room.
A warm lamp licks,
feathers and brocade are adjusted.
The girls choreograph
next moves.
A gentleman photographer
toggles knurled brass knobs
throws a veiling drape over
his head and mind.
The models are beyond
this moments capture,
they are sealed by silence,
yet their images,
their one-act legacy,
is an amber inclusion
raised up as a photograph
for all to admire in secret.
We are going to do a flash mob dance Comet told the crew.
I have a choreographer trained reindeer to help, her name is Bonnie Sue.
Vixen and Blitzen were miffed, because it was not their idea at all.
Dasher and Rudolph did not hear, they were watching snow fall.
Bonnie Sue came in and kept all the reindeers on their hooves for sure.
She had a sassy way about her, she was full of holly and manure.
Olive was irritated, because she was not asked to choreograph the dance.
Don’t be persnickety said Donner who thought with B.S. he had a chance.
Their dance steps were merry, they left prints all over the fresh snow.
Santa tried to find them but with all these prints he did not know…
Where his reindeer were or what mischief they were about.
Olive past him on her way out, her nose was in a snooty pout.
Dancer and Prancer said “we hear Santa” and all the dancing stopped.
Pretend we're rioting for better rations, said new elf named McFlopped.
“that won’t work, let me handle this, my friends,” with reindeer cheer.
Cupid lied to Santa’s face, so coal will be in his stocking again this year.
Never talk religion or politics for more than ten minutes because it will only end in an argument. ~Mrs. Jewel
I do not like Trump's personality,
But I can say unequivocally
There were no new wars when he was Chief,
And inflation had not yet become a thief.
The economy was a boom,
Iran was close to doom.
We did not have a border flood
With nationals of every blood.
Our current President is sinking fast
into his senility and would not last
Without his staff
To choreograph
His every step;
and his speaking is inept.
So when you vote in '24
Please remember this
Biden cares more for China and Iran
Than for his own country's common man.
I love you because loving you heals and energizes me
It’s a heartbreaking love because you will never know
I’m far away, pulled by the universe, but also free
Free to let my mind wander, imagine a perfect life and partner, and for that life…I push and go
I don’t really know you but I picture how I would love you
It keeps me going to have hope there’s someone out there like the one in my mind
I don’t know how to
But for you I would choreograph, compose, sing, paint, and search until you find
Without a doubt you are unconditionally seen and true
Hope
is it real
or is it just wishful thinking
we all know
that very often
hope is all that we have
that hope springs eternal
that hope is an integral
some would say
an essential requirement
a must have to get through life
to make the bad times bearable
enabling us to picture a future
that is better than our past
that is better than our present
hope is the projecting forward
to a future
that we plan
people and choreograph
in our hope-filled imaginations
a future that is so much better
than what was
and what is
we are told
to always
hope for the best
is hope
mankind's most oft used
biggest and best
placebo.
Disrupted rough sea ripples shuffle
audience anticipation
Shift in seats, hammered hearts
Pummel, fluffy microphone muffle
confines communication
To thespian garish starring parts
Leading lady stands on X central
scintillating stiff corset
Holds ocean of faces transfixed
Hushed haze of amazed attention
long leg stride endorses
Cancan colourful ruffled kicks
Glitter adds amps to eyes squinted
focus on filmed direction
Glow in spotlight, skin peach orange
Sets character afloat, limelight lifted
dusk dim purple perfection
Transmits her story beyond onstage
Pivot pelvis razzle reactive samba
fast feet choreograph flawless
Flashy features outshine backdrops
For her love, Leading man clamours
resounding auditorium applause
Ensures her ego never lacks props
13th June
Theatrical Resume
you are an odd one, aren’t you?
I have certainly done my best to be
You see things others miss
True enough
Do you play your own melodies?
Yes and I choreograph myself nightly
Sharing only enough to intrigue
Retaining my enthusiasm for life
Breezing purple vibes of nocturnal delight
Eventide’s afterglow blushes sanguine night
As leaves chromatic swirl, waltzing to alight
Bestowing gilded motifs on dreamy sight
Sprinkling ebullience on meadows aglow
Exuberant in celebration of celestial show;
Where crescent moon adorns opaline skies
Staging dancing stars for enchanted eyes
As constellations choreograph stellar art
Enthralling intimations of enamored heart
Embracing invitation of amorous dreams
Enticing sweethearts’ passionate themes.
Farther in distance, ocean ebbs and flows
Strumming rhythms cresting-tides compose
As together we rejoice gift of nature’s glee
On a leisurely walk, meandering carefree,
Tranquil in tease of zephyrs flirting along
Indulgent in euphony of nightingale’s song.
Hosting quietude we amble miles and miles
Adorning happiness glinting vigor of smiles
Engaging revelry, shedding travails of day,
Lauding harmony gracing nature’s pathway,
Purposefully musing in wonderment of time
Thrilling glamor of beauteous night sublime.
November 16, 2022
Poem of the day on November 18, 2022
Placed1st: Beauty of Night Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Approach me in a dance of love,
let distance play no part.
Embrace me in a pas de deux,
though miles keep us apart.
Two steps forward ... then 20 back,
your energy beckons me on.
Bodies fused, we touch the moon
and dance from dusk ‘til dawn.
We choreograph our inner fears
while seeking heart-deep healings.
Afraid to dance the love again,
afraid to bare our feelings.
A pause, our hands just barely touch,
Our eyes lock in a stare.
Too much? Too soon? Or not enough?
Then Destiny issues a dare.
Electric passion flows between us,
minds and bodies await our fate.
In Time’s ubiquitous continuum,
our spirits bond to celebrate.
Contest: The One Who Touched My Heart Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Thoughts honed to a razor’s edge
The dictionary and thesaurus be my whetstones
Set atop my stalwart quadrupedal aide
Pulverized hemlocks be my stationary cohort
A hewn cedar be cylindrical partner in rhyme
A sooty viscous slurry be my workmate
The milky sap of the arborist companion be my reviser
Time; unlimited; to be committed to sonnetifcation
Mete by minute or by days…to precompose
To choreograph the mind’s breadth of complexity
To see the inferences…laid out; covertly or overtly
Upon reaching a draft of my pre-thoughts; spelt out
To reave the uncomplicatedness from each line
Leaving nothing unprinted upon the page.
She is sculpture...
green hills in chasms of sensual carvings
chiseled on majestic torso of mountains
and silence of stillness flows in streams.
She is painting ...
beautiful colors in vales of floral polaroids
blazing frocks of petals in threads of filigree
and a breathless canvas reflects vision of life.
She is poetry...
buoyant and carefree, soul lost in mystic trance
sunlit meadows, dark nights, throbbing stars,
and fathomless thoughts, wisdom of grey hair
She is music...
when raindrops rustle soft melody on leaves
symphony of gyration, sea breeze sail hope
and chirps resonate in a serenade staccato
She is dance...
when a flock of birds embraced in blue sky
choreograph cloudy frills in tranquil white
and seamless winds twirl in a ballerina .
She is Nature's Joy, a masterpiece of art
patron of timeless solace, for a solitary heart
Dated 4th March 2020
Women dipped in inks.
Images from a cogged box.
A camera reveals
hips and ankles, ribbons
decorously draped
over a contrived modesty.
An artist has added a color tint,
their cheeks are rosy,
their lips red,
a patchwork of painted glow.
Pauses in an upper room.
A warm lamp licks,
feathers and brocade are adjusted,
the girls choreograph
next moves.
A gentleman photographer
throws a veiling curtain over
his head and mind.
The models are beyond
this moments capture,
they are sealed by silence.
Yet their images,
their one-act legacy,
is an amber inclusion
raised up as a photograph
for all to admire in secret.
Dance the winds of the night
against the shadows that decline
nature’s state of shining bliss
behind the breeze that remains
those meager echoes from the moon
are supplanted by the storm
the former master of a domain
befallen by the hurricane
the tempest building without regard
for lovers of the ball
a celebration that must proceed
even as the heavens quake
still the night has a charm
the choreograph will go on
in the ruins that may remain
the dance of winds until the end.
I gather up my words and put them in a song
Where the soul of all voices could sing along
I gather up my words and write them in a book
from all hidden secrets tucked away in a nook
I gather up my words and choreograph a dance
Where I can play and twist every game of chance
I gather up my words for you
Together we can seek a breakthrough.
A rose or a cape sorrel
We all have a story to tell
We all plunge in the same waters
We all shine by the moon and sun,
We are one.
One song, one poem, one dance
Our life poetry in suffering and romance.
19-05-2018
I gather up my words
Let your pen drip-Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
6th place
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