Something
Something's coming, you can smell it in the city air,
a trace of salt-sting, wave-licked
from where Neptune's head breaks above the
waves through slopes, foothills, mountains of white
water, swirling braids of kelp, as green Sea horses stamp
the laughing waves. Then calm.
Ocean, kissed by sunlight, smiles
a billion-acre peace across her blue-green world,
below which whales glide, dolphins dance,
and mermaids, combing their silver hair,
sit on iron-coopered trunks
filled with gold and jewels perhaps,
sand-choked, rusting, like human wishes
long unanswered long forgot.
Then something, something flies up, upward
through the endless sea, rising to where
you move like sunlight through the world
weaving fugues of love around my heart.
Categories:
fugues, dance, fish, horse, ocean,
Form: Free verse
Yucatan, etc.
Cortez, DeMille are gone.
It's now the locus
of postgraduate honeymoons,
urban fugues, a minor literary genre.
Knowledge and ejection predispose us
to technological parody--
antique busses, burros, plumbing, pyramids--
as if nothing ever caught on.
There is no CHRONOLOGY, the pace and mores
are too counterproductive--
poster Indians pee along the road,
the women never dust.
We like the Sartrean-Spanish askewness--
bugs, sex, dysentery, moonlight--
as if, though settled with us,
the Fates vacation here.
Categories:
fugues, fate, holiday, irony, leaving,
Form: Free verse
His music, written centuries ago,
is still beloved and performed today:
cantatas, fugues, concertos, preludes, and
the mass in B – perhaps the greatest piece
of choral music ever to have been
composed. From soaring tones, the voices build
a sound cathedral, reaching to the sky.
The crucifixion’s deep despair and then
the resurrection’s radiant joy resound
and touch the audience and the singers deep
within their inner human core and heart –
the miracle of music that transcends
the times. Immortal is the master’s work.
2/22/2017
For contest: Form I with a Theme
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Categories:
fugues, music,
Form: Iambic Pentameter
Your symphony cut short.
My heart rings with the tension
of your unresolved fugues.
Categories:
fugues, soulmate, suicide,
Form: Prose Poetry
Sweet roseate little flower
The evergreen bush princess
Dancing on a gentle breeze air
your scent in my breast nestles
to the recesses of my heart ,it travels
Dripping honeyed nectar, my blood it ripples.
Dazzling, joyous little wren
Soaring uncloudy blue skies
Deeper inside my soul
tamping down lovely fugues
turning every breath I take
a love song of yours.
Winsome, celestial little angel
heavenly wings endlessly beating
every void around roaming
bigger bit of my heart daily gaining
your image in my eyes swelling
your image, my sole known dreaming.
Categories:
fugues, loveheart, heart,
Form: I do not know?