You once sang a song
For me to dance to,
Yet I let pride hold me back.
Now I wait for your drumbeats.
Will you sing for me now?
You spoke in poetry, not plain words.
You spun flowery tales,
Yet I pretended not to understand.
Now I long for your poems.
Will you write for me now?
You gave me inspiration so true.
Please do not let this horse die.
I am letting go of all the shackles
That once held me down.
I am waiting for the drumbeats still.
Come and play for me now.
Please do not sing to another;
Let not this travesty occur.
I hold my dance for your drumbeats.
Will you play for me still?
At our lagoon, will you wait?
Should I hope to meet you there?
Will I hear your drumbeats there?
Love me now,
Love me forever.
1448 Newly Posted Poem 3-2-26
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~storms~
gathering furies
wild winds whistle through pine boughs ~
finches feast on birch seeds
streams of freezing rain
leaves slippery signatures
finches feast on birch pods
~rain~
pounding winter rains
bathe the thirsty desert sands ~
wildflowers bursting
drumbeats of raindrops
reverb in wind symphony ~
drip plop splash gurgle
~ice~
thin icy edges
winter white moustache ~
platinum hoar frost
thick coats of blue ice
blanket every barren twig ~
snow melts winter blinks
~snow~
ribbons of snowflakes
flow in a gossamer gown ~
ruby skies crackle
across the smooth ice
dainty snowflakes pirouette ~
bare birch boughs applaud
~spring~
tumbleweeds rumble
springtime sprawls across prairies ~
precious gift of rain
crocus shout greetings
as snowdrops push through snows ~
blustery mischief
white plum blossoms laugh
tickled by wiggling raindrops ~
gold and grey skies dawn
I hear the earth speak softly in my sleep,
In tongues of wind that wander through my bone;
Old footsteps rise from valleys dark and deep
Where seeds of memory wait to be grown.
The soil remembers hands that never fade,
The sweat of strength that watered silent graves;
The songs of mothers in the evening shade,
The fire that dances where the river paves.
For I am carved from stories yet unsung,
From drumbeats hidden in ancestral night;
Where ancient voices pulse upon my tongue,
And turn the blood within me into light.
The red earth keeps the laughter and the tears
Of men who walked with courage in their chest;
It guards the footsteps of forgotten years
And shelters dreams that never learned to rest.
So when the wind begins its roaming call,
And shadows trace the hills of silent lore,
I hear the echoes — patient, proud, and tall —
Returning to the living evermore.
For I am child of dust that learned to rise,
Yet carries roots that hunger for the sky;
The earth still sings inside my searching eyes,
And never lets its wandering spirit die.
Drowning in drowsiness, my eyes try to wander.
Escaping these rose bushes,
leaving with more cuts than memories.
Alone and exhausted, disassociating and crossfaded.
My second heart starts beating.
As the blood courses through my veins,
a second voice calls out to me.
Become one with it, I say.
Heartbeats, rapid drumbeats,
a melody unable to make me sway.
All I can focus on is the mysterious girl in shrouded mist.
I can hear myself dying.
If hate’s all you want, that's what you’ll get.
Dark streets with dim corner lights pave my way.
One stop sign is too many.
Lust, jealousy, envious, resentful.
Feelings lie awake, wanting to die.
My shadow speaks in whispers.
Smashing a mirror with cracked knuckles,
I must suffer to salvage the victim.
I must save myself.
Happiness is to bury my shame-filled soul within you,
Our springs to return, darkened, from clear skies above,
From the future, with leaves worn by nerves, in silence,
Your tears, a desert horror, like an eternal pain.
Words of reproach, like subtle drumbeats,
Latin rhythms, in our green, full hearts,
Youth, linger a while in apocalyptic time, unyielding,
To your spirit, I will build an elevated Olympus.
Mirrors of our past, gleaming memories,
Bring back the face of love in our days, ceaselessly,
My youth, wretched mammoth, learning with the muses,
Until the day you will bury my soul in poetry.
The mask of verses remains indecipherable dust,
Grotesque, of my stellar genius, square brain, stable,
May your spirit find rest in unknown words,
In the rhythms of our hearts, full of chlorophyll, pure.
In this dance of eternity, our souls entwine,
In an embrace of love that will endure through time,
May our spirit remain, in poetry, alive and immortal,
In a universe of words, like a melancholic setting.
In silent drumbeats of depression
throbs a fractal life of no "visualization".
dandelions fluffing in howling winds
fight with Halloween "hallucinations".
behind the dusk of a sealed doorway lies
a vast empty space of no sun-showers...
I need a spaceship
to take me to a place I have never been
many lightyears away to another planet.
Where timeline untangles and "dream" floats
treading "whimsy" paths by moonlight.
Where crystalline castles of "imagination"
build chimeras over craterous depths.
Where a wandering soul can escape
into "reverie" flights of a wishful heart.
Where in pure beauty of the still night
dazzles a chest of rubies in onyx eyes.
Coding messages in long forgotten songs
through rows of roses, Will I get my Mozart?
In foams of a sea, only sorrow and suffering,
Will my status quo change to a happy ending?
She dances to the rhythmic drumbeats,
She dances despite her aching feet.
She bears the torture;
If only.it would turn to joy.
She watches the priest as he calls upon the benevolent spirits,
As he invokes the Divine.
Will he be able to realign the pieces that would guide her away from the gloomy shoreline?
Will he be able to summon back the soul of the departing?
She dances to the drumbeats with a sorrowful heart.
Will she face bereavement again?
This time, nothing will wash away the stain—
Not the purest water or the brightest sunshine.
Her son lies lifeless on the bed;
It’s past twilight,
Just a few hours until midnight.
There must be a summoning before the departed crosses the threshold to the beyond.
The drumbeats take on a different cadence,
The priest turns to her with a smile.
They have achieved a significant milestone,
Tears stream down her face.
April 15, 2025.
Her shocks poured forth like a midnight oil spill,
body buckling like a sapling in a tornado, cracked like a Grecian museum urn. Moonflower extended limb petals, hips arched, limbs touched the nightfall floor. Her firehouse quaked primal.
Waistline oscillated, packed rigid. Gasps defibrillated, beasts fought through tight ribs,
Midriff dilated, injected, probe swelled with force.
Her breath hung heavy, smoke in a chimney,
Drumbeats drumming on her global map, sweat beaded like molten glass.
Weary rasps of elation caterwauling,
guttural sounds spilled from her chest.
Echo holds back some of reality,
Giving us a filtered view,
Like the dew,
Droplets from the main source.
Songs of joy come from a ferry,
Their sounds reach the shore,
Carrying messages and melodies to the land in their mid-strength.
Drumbeats pierced through the stillness of the night,
As the soul searched for light,
The echoes of the past tell a moonlit tale,
With listening ears and hungry hearts gathering in the evening glow.
The sounds of travelling water remind us that nature is integral,
From a distance, we hear it,
But as we come closer, the music speaks volumes.
November 30, 2024.
Sound of the drumbeats stirred a move
As they gathered for the war dance
With movements to percussion's groove
Sound of the drumbeats stirred a move
Prepared for war, their skills to prove
Blazing fire put them in a trance
Sound of the drumbeats stirred a move
As they gathered for the war dance
6-12-2024
A lone bugle wept as it wrapped
its plaintive message ‘round her heart
Why relentless drumbeats for another
raised hope anew for her brother
Is not ours to fathom unless
we close our eyes to death
Long past war’s fading drumbeats
And beyond the miasmic mists of time
Run undercurrents that displace peace
And fancied futures hoped sublime.
Once staccato beats of war drums abate
Far from war graves and their dead,
We find loved ones’ dismal fates
And lonely lives now filled with dread.
Soldier’s sojourn in the dash dividing
Dates on their eroding tombstones
Remind us that their lives, though exciting,
Ended not with hope but love unsown.
Once draftee’s dreams become forgotten
And their past romances are long since lost,
All that remains is what God left them
And scars they earned at frightful costs.
We too, wonder what will become of us
And we hope to pass our test divine
Once life’s abating hoofbeats leave us
And we’re enveloped by the fog of time.
Who will remember who we were?
Who will proclaim, “I KNEW THEM WELL?”
Who will stop and silently ponder
What our tombstone epitaphs fail to tell.
Distant
Drumbeats echo
Through tranquil night's stillness,
Enticing, bewitching, tempting
Rhythm.
ESCAPISM
In pyramids we finger attunements
or activations as love dances across
threads lost
Time of no consequence when past,
present and future ripples into your
Andromedan locks
Form changes from green to gold
or bronze to white with pale blue webs
It matters not
Gaia knows when to laugh
or cry, blossom or die
You read fairy tales
with drumbeats
Shakti curling up snugly
to sleep
I touch a fiery eagle landing
on my claustrum crown
with the same issues of
escapism
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song
2021
under optical delusion of a lampshade
a mind wanders in its own galaxy.
among echelons of stars infinite
in drumbeats of magical alchemy.
passions of expensive dreams dazzle
only sweet scent of soft petals.
a smiling face keeps convincing
a heart promises to beat in unison.
wanton restless water tames into a stream
rocked against anarchy of feelings,
through mountains of unseen bruise.
yet the stream never meets the sea.
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