in the bushes underneath a torn-up vine
I found Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum sublime
They did not speak to me, but spoke to each other
I told them I was going to tell my mother
Tweedle Dee bit me on the shin, and his brother jumped in
They were devil dervishes, then they took a chunk of my chin
I was screaming away for someone to save me that day
But a hole in the ground opened and they whisked me away
despite desolate despair Denise Denniman desperately denied
depression. Devoutly devoted dervishes dictated disbelief and
despair. Dodging dinosauric dipsy-doodle, Denise’s Dippity-doo
demanded direction. Discombobulated directives dishonored
disillusioned dweebs and desperados
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
wind-shear snaps the cottonwood’s spine~
a bruised sky bleeds indigo ink.
dust devils whirl like dervishes gone feral.
cattle low, low, lowing--panic against barbed wire.
thermometer mercury plummets like a shot crow.
tin roofs shudder under sudden hail.
then: silence. Absolute.
the world holds its breath in blue.
leaf dervishes w
h
i
r
l
vow autumns effervescence ~
conscious elements
wilderness
whirls leaf dervishes
solitude
spins its muse
nested within his life tree
hermit’s mind set free
They begin to turn
Slowly unravelling
Arms unfurling,
then skirts,
Spreading outwards
Lifting upwards
Softly stepping
Grounding down
Their feet repeat
the pattern
On the earth
One around the other
Whirling round
Their circular orbit
Expanding out
ascending through
Sama and devotion
Ecstasy and love
If minds could be seen,
we could take them out for a walk,
show off a bit.
Although we would have to
leach and muzzle most of them
like dogs.
There would be, with luck,
a few cool cats
but most minds would be
clearly rabid.
Many surreal artists
have attempted to paint a mind,
but their depiction's
all end up as a set of dentures
bolted together
with animal parts.
Some mindscapes are cute
like Disney movies
(they are the worst),
some resemble the rear end
of an equine nightmare.
Greater minds would show up
off-leash and of their heads,
the lesser thinkers
tending to gather around to sniff,
but then (disappointingly),
they belly up for ego rubs,
or spin like drunk dervishes
chasing their own tails.
Best to keep our minds
behind a thick mask -
monkey masks are popular.
"Syzygy"
Behind the wet dunes
fringed with seagrass
a blood crescent
kisses the forehead
of dreamer traversed
twin aeon syzygy
barefeet the velvet
sophia imprints
softly speak
like words seen
dancing across
the place between
heaven and earth
mapping deviations
non-standard
calibrating alignment
played forward through
unchartered jaded
emerald forests
where the satin skin
becomes sparkling
crystalline it shatters
like a shell disgarded, then
the body of no substance
becomes transparent
enveloped in rapturous
Devabani heralding
commands cast
from divine throats
lutes and sitars
whirling nightingales
dervishes wingspanned
accompany angelic legions
the journey melts into
deep blue mysterious oceans
easily walked, hypnotic the
transparent beckoning,
this is the way come,
come, come closer
closer, come forward,
on higher Elysian steppes
the bride smiles
an unspoken secret
and turns
the eyes are
twin windows
like doorways
opening
swallowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
The strangest things happen
in the Northern hemisphere
dancing dervishes
become the norm
in the mid Norwegian Sun,
mercator projected
A bird in flight
caught by the car lights,
travelling incognito.
Recess to be free,
there's a longing ;
in the upper atmosphere
see the lodestar disappear.
A drug crazed world spins on ever faster.
Bodies tumble out of that carousel
never to be seen again.
Once whirling dervishes twirled
now they stagger and fall drunkenly.
Molestation hangs in the air
drooling its perilous lava.
All control is folly,
and yet...
this morning
I sip at a mug of Columbian
one hand to pick up a casino bought fob watch,
I let its fake gold chain run threw my fingers,
feel the weight of the colored glass jewel
set within its case
This simple tactility rests my mind
I am at peace with myself.
if all the lithium cell batteries were to cease
this instant,
I would still have this moment to live within,
the taste of rich coffee and this non-working $10 watch
to treasure.
Last night I watched the movie “Nang Nak”;
the hero returns home after a war,
lives with the ghosts of his wife and child,
unaware they had perished while he was afar.
And then, when I turned around,
I saw only ghosts abound,
non-real beings, planets, stars,
all that my universe bore,
and, at last, my body and thoughts,
dancing apparitions in swirls,
frenzied dervishes in whirls.
I prayed at the feet of the Buddha,
bewildered by spectral samsara.
Did He smile at last
or a non-real thought that was?
Or does it matter at all?
That I know is proof after all
That I exist to validate
real, unreal, non-real,
like a glow that reveals,
self-iridescence concealed.
And here I lie now erased
of a body, mind and the seen,
a void that has everything
sans forms and names,
and yet the fullest thing,
the Buddha in everything.
"Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like the barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
Tonight a mournful wind
is blowing an endless lament,
accosting me like the sudden gust
that swept hope away.
Wind was once a willing consort;
our careless love echoing
like laughter upon it--
before the jealous blast
of world war demolished you.
How the dreary years have passed,
leaving infant dreams
to the incessant whorls of time.
Nudnick
By Sy Roth
Self, I say
Self,
Wake up.
Your ganglions
Are asleep again.
Wakey, wakey…
Those around you, nudnick,
Are whirling dervishes
Those who come and go
In the Speakeasys of their lives
And I am a silent partner.
Wake up dammit
It’s slipping away
You’re letting it slip away
While the humped dowagers
Prepare their casseroles
For the hungry men who’ve passed.
See in their eyes
Your sadness, Nudnick,
Where’s the fun in your voyage
Careless self
Elf of the bygones,
Shelf where the platitudes lay
Dusty
Fusty hungry dinks waiting
For their revival
Wrapped in their silent home
Domicile of mordant cells
For the somnambulist to walk echoey corridors.
Awaken before it is too late
Or perhaps it is.
The monster is caught galumphing to Bedlam
And the nudnick sits on the side of the road
Waiting for him to pass
Like a hundred-car freight train crossing.
Wake, I hear it in my ear!
Wake the nudnik from its dream
The train is a never-ending circus cavalcade,
And he yawns as it passes by.
They all yawn as he passes by.
I yawn for myself
Yearning to avoid the parade
As my eyes close and sleep invades my reality.
Black folks got rhythm
full movements
undeterred, and
flexible as four winds.
How low can we go?
with limbo
it's in our hands
with early rising;
planting seeds of joy,
washed in ray of hope -
we dance on sturdy grounds
with gems to unearth.
The whole world watch and wait
what instruments of weight and
measure will bring us together?
Once upon a time we reeled,
like dervishes; only we were ship wrecked!
the wave of One Hand,
we now stand like those chosen,
at the parting of the sea.
Feeling a presence larger than life
bowing palms seem to pray to a force beyond,
black sullen clouds drift up the coast,
wind-driven spit of God marks its spot in a rough way.
Grey ocean mauled, shudders like a duck on a cold day
burgeoning waves a rough painting to the tortured sky.
Nature breathes power to uncontrolled chaos
what is not bolted down dances like dervishes for the oncoming storm.
Banshee music howls in concert with ravaging tidal surge
sideways rain stings the cheeks of those who stayed behind.
Darkness engulfs, turmoil pain, and death everywhere
through sonic and physical abuse the end seems near.
An ethereal glow forms between storm pulses
the eye is near.
Sun bursts out reflecting dewdrop rain
witnessing sparkling destruction.
All is quiet for the moment except for falling tiles from bruised roofs,
soon the other side will make its mark
on humbled earth and man.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.