Long Choreographing Poems
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To WiseElders
in whatever age you may be found
headed even further North
and South
as each full year
revolving passes,
Our shared yet wounded WinLose Adolescent
remembers your WinWin childhood dreams
of adult songs and dances outside
together by day
and riding magic cumulus dreams
by FullMoon
EarthSpin watching
starlit romantic
matriarchal wombed WiseElder nights
of wounded bright
WinWin holy nature-spirits,
PositivEnergy delight
in ecopolitical revolutionary Left with Righting
Trust in birdsong Truth
and dipolar bear dancing Beauty.
Now is your time
to remember Earth's warm lit
secular song
with liturgical dancing wombs
and unfolding seeds,
LeftBrain too dominant Wrongs
and RightBrain too passive
LeftWinged songs
and WinWin childhood silent slights.
You were more Right dominant
as a secretly singing
and image choreographing
child.
We were more yin dominant
as if quietly sacred and natural
RNA within DNA mysteries
of newborn ecologically dominant
thriving childhood still searching
for our First WiseElder memory
reincarnating organic healthy-wealth
of singing Yang 4D powers
dancing bilateral YinYin process
reverse WinWin fractal-squaring speed
of co-enlightenment
Bold GREEN dances
through FullMoon lifelines
flying magic matriarchal carpets
backward
through WinWin revolving Time.
*** Devoted - A Love’s Anatomy ***
(For Jim)
Let me lean into your eyes,
As they — in an instant of our meeting —
First embraced me, inviting, as warm
As your arms. I reach closer to hold
Your sight and its touch, which my wishing
would have last forever.
Let me dance in your story,
Choreographing my early years along by yours.
Let me help uncover your passions
From the layers of living —
The days’ traveling over you.
Let me sing into your meaning, sweetly,
To comfort your worries; and as I harmonize
With the whistling, passing streams of wind,
My sillier self sends smiles to your spirit
Along with blessing prayers to your soul.
Let me dream into your sleeping,
To send away disturbance and disquiet…Perhaps
To lend glimpses of God’s inspired landscapes
Or to see, as we stroll sub-conscious dimensions,
Vast cityscapes, with us pausing to enjoy a cafe.
Let me draw your presence: a portrait in
Contour lines, unwilling to be defined:
A mystery, all angles, all moods — painted
In all colors at last, in a picture’s telling
of many thousands of words.
Let me walk in your forever.
Let me walk along your yearning,
Sharing hope’s helium on a rise
Into your scan of each dusk’s sky ~
To show some claim on the leaving day
like the circling sparrows do..
—————————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 11/29/2022
Thanks be to God
The sun’s sparkling streaks,
of sangria grace,
descend upon
the malachite verdant valley;
world of pristine mountains,
and evergreen tales of
rainbow hued meadows.
Where medieval castles
are guarded with a fragrant
fortress of blushing flowers,
enveloped in topaz gold beams.
She walks along the
fields of redolent reveries,
where hope sprouts
like the rising moon-
whispering secrets to
the whimsical wind,
in mystical musicality,
whilst butterflies
rest upon her ebony hair,
choreographing a
three dimensional
ballet in ethereal delight,
cradling and mirroring the
dancing spirit in
emerald elegance.
Her chrysalis heart
nurtures their sanctuary
with sanguine serenades,
for she is the queen
of azure wings,
dressed in timeless mists;
her mind is wrapped
in kaleidoscope clouds
draped in pearl crescent dust,
fluttering and twirling with
twinkling stars between
fragile thin veins,
like delicate petals
woven from a tapestry
of thriving dreams.
Yet the sound of
unsung songs drift
along shadowed skies-
of champagne and
rosemary rays,
fleeting like waning colors,
longing to spread floral arms,
to sketch watercolor
paintings from
dandelion desires-
to be heard and seen
beyond the creek of thorns
and thistles,
as peacock feathers soar
amongst petrichor leaves swaying
to the celestial tunes of her life-
amidst raining regrets
a devoted warrior never lets
eclipsed spheres dim
their light upon her sight.
Oh mother Nature
you that were born out of the conglomeration of
unbounded energy into matter
under
the auspices of paramount universal Logos
that the harmonious coexistence of opposite forces have
established
by
artfully choreographing their coexistence with the help
of the infallible divine Will
and
were painstakingly interwoven, with the assistance of
mighty space and time,
we humans,
having realized our abominable crimes against you, divine mother,
thus
on our knees we implore your forgiveness
for
our ignorance and our greediness that have put you
through the agony of dying
by
disturbing your concordant operation
for
to satisfy our wretched ambitions disregarding any
other form of life!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
26 APRIL 2020
By my red tiled house stands a mango tree
Beneath it I cherish my treasured memories
Where cows merrily roam and cattle graze
As morning sky scintillates in marigold rays
Face of innocent days I spent in tiny village
Amid rice fields gracing serene landscapes
Watching crops grow from seeds to harvests
Playing game of cricket and idling in silliness
From dawn till dusk, ambling with friends
Venturing out coyly, exploring night’s secrets
Walking dusty roads holding kerosine lamps
Strolling like silhouettes on dark river banks
Floating young emotions on giggling streams
Stealing kiss of love, choreographing dreams
As we told stories spinning moonlit wizardry
Listening to wilderness strumming wild music
By my red tiled house, under the mango tree
Where eternally lie my childhood memories
January 13, 2021
Placed 1st: Your choice (44) contest by Brian Strand
Placed 5th: Good old days contest by Mystic Rose Rose
Strange Fruit choreography
speaks to me of seeing
and smelling
this strange evil fruit
of hatred
and bigotry
and fear
and straight white man
perpetual menace.
Choreographing trauma
only infrequently translates words
of DarkHole poems
Rhetoric hoping to carry carrion reek,
shock of evil awe
and dark timeless burdens
Terrifying wonder
as perceived
within this Strange Fruit DarkView
Rather than more interior unvoiced feelings
of profound inhumane disarray,
denial and division,
hate climates
monoculturing supremacy
Of straight white monotheistically judgmental,
capitalist movers and shakers,
commodifiers
and waste disposers
and arms salesmen
prepared to aim at
semi-domesticated talking animals,
defiant live stock,
breeding stock,
bargain basement slave labor
Too smart to be trusted
not to seek reparations
and revenge
Strange Dark Fruit,
the enslaving racist face
frantically encircling
straight white fascism
in full flagrant,
strange southern fruit,
industrially resilient horror.
Strange Fruit Anthropocene,
with polyculturally felt choreography
of ecopolitical
disempowering/unenlightened
monochromatic lack of appropriate appreciation for color,
spectral circling octaves,
and peak experiences of compassionate
bipartisan drama
Cooperative intent,
without so much
Patriarchal-Capitalist
monotheistic
StrangeFruit
xenophobic trauma.
Written: September 30, 2023
Sponsored by: Silent One Pick a Colour Contest
"There is my body, in it an ocean formed of his glory, all the creation, all the universes, all the galaxies, are lost in it. Rumi"
_____________________________________________________________
In the scenic scope of a sparklingly stained sky.
Brushstrokes by a dulcet master, sky-high
An exhibit of azure splendor, a masterpiece.
Exquisite works of nature, why must you cease?
A cyanic cerulean, cavorting and courageous
Paints a tale that is both untold and tenacious.
Azure colors dance with genuine happiness.
All day long, hearts are captured by sappiness.
Wispy wetness, whitening whisper wreath.
With complete pride, wrap the sheath
Clouds of cotton candy wander nearby.
Adding elegance and grace to a sunny sky
A golden orb, the sun, sends a brilliant light.
Exudes a svelte and diaphanous gaze bright.
A radiance of soft light through the universe.
Fluttering formulaic fascination is fluminous.
Flowers fields in fabulous fonts of Forebay
Akin to a painter's palette, they thrive and sway.
Delicate petals, akin to brushstrokes fine,
Creating a tapestry is so divine.
The ocean waves have a turquoise hue.
Crash upon the shore, in shades of dew.
Symphony of mellifluous vibe, a rhythmic song,
As the creator elixir flows swiftly along,
Seagulls whiz by with wings wassail wide.
Their graceful flight was a sight to abide.
They elapse through the canvas with elegant ease.
Adding zest and zeal to an ephemeral breeze
As the day gyres to dusk, the sky transforms.
Brushstrokes of indigo chart various forms.
Mahogany and navy, fete the felicity of the scene.
Choreographing a fugacious, halcyon, and serene
Furtive stars twinkle, akin to gems so bright,
As the divine fulfills the tableau for the night,
Brushstrokes of cobalt in the glamor sky,
A marvelous feat that yields hearts to sigh.
The splendor of nature's marvels can't be denied.
A canvas filled with hues, so bright and defied
The creator is inconspicuous, yet his aura is felt.
It's clearly blatant in the cyan smudges knelt.
Curving, swirling, in moonlit stance, butterflies merrily dance,
Undulating tenor of nocturnal music, beneath stellar expanse,
When celestial orchestra plays, occult notes of galactic tune,
As titillations of love croon, mystical lyrics of melodious moon;
Echoing doting rhythms, twinkling revelry of luminous stars,
In realms magical, scintillating thrones of Venus and Mars,
As longings of soul blossom, spurring reveries of romance,
Where I decode latent missives, glinting your esoteric glance;
Enamored in tones ambrosial, humming riffs of moon song,
Cherishing sweet promise of love, reverberating lifelong,
Exalting fantasies of awe, emanating from ethereal heart,
Edifying ecstasies of morrow, as shadows of bygones depart;
Enlivening themes longed for, in womb of romantic night,
As we embrace paradise of passion, desires ecstatic ignite,
Lauding refulgent beams of moon, glistening fervid space,
When ardent images of grace, memories beloved retrace;
Waltzing in airglow above, thrilling on wings of butterflies,
Attuning to sound of music, resounding in lambent skies,
Choreographing a ballet love, rowing aura of galactic stream,
Enchanting sensuous theme vying shores of utopian dream.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree—
A belle crooning nature’s glee,
Splendorous as seasons’ glory.
A ballad of resplendent spring
In stanzas cherry-blossom pink
Uplifting moods of lovers
Lost in heart-shaped leaves
Fluttering soft lavender breeze
Arousing romantic appeal
In fuchsia hues of redbud trees.
A verse of feisty summer winds
Swaying beats of majestic oak
Rustling big-leaf maple trees
Hosting dance of perky sparrows
Choreographing mating tempo--
Magnolia’s white blooms evoke.
A lyric of autumn’s aspirations
Scripting chorus in blazing colors,
Red, orange, purple, yellow,
On maple, hickory, birch, sycamore,
Strumming strings of alluring refrains--
Rhythms waltzing fervid meadows.
A cadent song of winter’s chill
Shuddering vibes of barren trees
Yet, charmingly pretty as can be
When snowflakes gently falling
Invoke tunes of season’s greetings
Crowning tips of ornamental twigs
As hearts’ melodies merrily sing.
February 7, 2020
Placed 1st: Famous poetic lines 2 poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree” by Joyce Kilmer
HM: Strand select H contest by Brian Strand
Where fleecy clouds, on rosy-quilt meandered,
Motifs amethystine wowed tangerine horizon
Embroidering on magenta arc, designs crimson,
Beckoned by blushed-musings of marigold sun
Spraying amber gold, on burnt-yellow attire,
Scattering breaths sapphire, on periwinkle fire;
As tunes chrysanthemum, sung of eve’s desire,
Choreographing themes of dreams romantic,
In symphony of colors shimmering on ripples
Sprinkling twilight on tapestries of blue ocean
Painting azure fabric, in aureate brushstrokes,
Quivering our essence, embraced in passion.
This is where we were, when first-time eyes met,
When sight of love fueled embers of romance
And smitten hearts spoke through lovesome glance,
Admiring from bridge, sun’s glorious farewell;
Where we stand today, as heart-rhythms resonate,
Synchronizing with love, and melodies of sunset.
Line 2: Tangerine sunsets composing chrysanthemum hymns