STARDUST ON AUTUMN LEAVES
I kind of know the meaning of that song
That everyone by now has surely heard
But I’d say, for those who missed it all
The tune and lyric resonate so well
But wait, there’s something that I know that must be shared
The secret of that song
A meaning there, welcomed in your heart
And a message that one feels is really true
With a sideways glance
There’s a way to see for real
Another place to find
That fantasy will never cease to be
A second song, will always haunt me
And ever stay, in four four time
But French gives way, to Johnny Mercer
Reluctantly, the ghost remains
But one last hope will see, romance that lingers
As one is ever lost, in love
But there’s never cause to doubt me darling
When the only thing I know, is you’re mine
A few notes set a rhythm
The foxtrot beckons
Across the crowded room they smile
Nat's melodic tone frames the dance
Towards each other they move
And then they are one
Bodies locked in a dance embrace
The romantic shades of four-four time
Float across the meadows of their hearts
Effortlessly they glide across the floor
Feather step, reverse turn, natural weave
Flowing movements are but second nature
Others gaze on in wonder
As every elegant step unfolds
One beautiful, musical love story
Music fades, but their light shines brightly
They look, they laugh, they kiss
Then arm-in-arm they dance into the future
Living life to their stardust melody
THE BEAT
Feeling the beat deep in your gut
Lyrics don’t cause that reaction
Rhythm is all, and nothing but
Melody is a distraction
Four-four time is so insistent
Strong weak, medium weak action
The brain cannot stay resistant
Melody is a distraction
The heart rate picking up the pace
Soon the beat is gaining traction
Only sensing the drum and bass
Melody is a distraction
Feeling the beat deep in your gut
Melody is a distraction
For the next three poems I choose "I don't know?" and "baptism" since these are old poems that I found that survived the burnings. I no longer write like this, but the last of the three is more my slant towards Robert Creeley.
untitled
A tropical sunset, wallpapered, eleven by fourteen,
Stares at my daily awakenings;
The sun, like a sleepless eye on the verge of closing
Can never blink,
But once cried a salty foreground sea.
Beyond the wall, deep in the horizon,
Hemidemisemiquaver rain, in four/four time,
Fills potholes with puddles,
And not knowing when to stop,
Makes lakes for romantic rowboating couples.
But in the dark night, frogs grate,
Sounding like a carpenter
Rasping an almost finished frame
That will border contorted perceptibilities
Or images in placid pastel.
Dancing feet do not wander;
They’re just content to dance.
Grass is never greener and
Fruit is never sweeter but,
Though the stage may be elsewhere;
Their spirit loves its safe home.
Tapping out their life's joy;
Like ringing chapel bells.
Jumping, dancing, tapping
Brings smiles and happiness
And feet recharge themselves.
Crescendo tapping,
In four/four time are,
Such sweet interludes.
Dancing Feet, never
ever end up blue.
Syncopation's
Such elation;
Merry Making
Jubilation.
Shuffling sands
Will whisper
Soft secrets.
Toe taps,
Do rap,
Fine.
Sinews like steel traps,
Contracting and expanding.
Rhythm of movements
In fluidic four-four time;
Black stallion racing the wind.
In springs frost
the dance begins again
Four four time
and fluttering wings
rapid beat
and anxious breath
Here in a cold grey mornings rage
a damp sun failed to rise
it rains in the drip of quietness
while I exhale on life's stage
All around is strewn with a sparkling light
unwelcome in their private realm
I find the road and walk back home
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