Long Somersaulting Poems
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The girl stood by the window,
Her head turned slightly to best observe the dreaded finger,
When it walked into the room.
The finger that which by its very actions would seal her fate.
Would this finger seemingly no different than any of her own,
Foreshadow a steady income, or a requirement for her to leave this place to take up life on the street once more.
The door moved almost imperceptibly, just enough for the finger to be seen
Curved around the outer edge, as if it was making up its mind to
Fully enter or slip back out.
I watched from behind my desk, awaiting also a decision by the finger.
Would this girl be the chosen one?
Would the finger deem her suitable to grace our household on a regular basis?
I wanted the matter settled quickly.
This very day, three others had crossed our threshold only for the movement of the finger to show up their shortcomings, resulting in them trudging warily back from whence they had come.
Having made up its mind the finger thrust itself into the room,
Then stopped dead still so as to take the measure of it's newest victim,
Before sliding firstly along the skirting boards, then somersaulting onto various Pieces of furniture.
Every movement bringing the dreaded finger closer to the girl and myself.
Now it could be seen leaping from the top of one picture frame to another.
With one last swift movement the finger was gliding across my desk.
The girl turned against her will to confront the finger,
To dare it to turn her out.
Responding to the challenge the finger stood upright,
A healthy pink glow emanating from its tip,
Not having picked up even a single speck of dust or grime
From all that slithering.
"I'm sure you will do just fine dear, I'd have to do it myself to get it any
cleaner" said the owner of the finger in her most re-assuring and kindly voice.
'Is Monday too soon for you to start - that is if it is all right with you darling" said my wife as she turned to me to rubber stamp the deal.
"absolutely my precious" I responded in genuine relief as I rang the bell for a nice hot cup of tea for us all.
While I stood on the high cliffs
Letting the winds mess my hair
With their invisible hands,
Enjoying, nevertheless,
Their refreshing caress on my skin,
I saw, a short distance away,
A colony of mer-people
Somersaulting towards me!
Lost in the wonder of the moment,
I forgot about time, about my surroundings,
About myself, about my burdens,
About all that which troubles me usually
And I became,
A Queen, one ruling the land I was born in,
One waiting to see how to settle this matter
With those creatures of the oceanic abyss!
The mermaids, having come close enough
As to allow me to hear them
Started singing their hypnotic songs
Songs which lifted up the waves
Running through my mind
Songs which had me forget that I
Am nothing else than a consciousness
Inhabiting a mortal human body!
Then, the mermen joined in
And the product of it all
Was a symphonic orchestra
Whose notes and tunes
Vibrated in the very core of my soul
To give my mind wings
Strong enough
As to have me flapping them hard
And flying up to the skies’ hidden realms
Where angels and gods grabbed my arm
And pulled me in their eternal comfort!
When the mer-people were done,
I opened my eyes, breathed in and out
Till I felt that my voice could be steady enough
To tell them that I’ve understood that they have come for me
“I am human; my place is here on land,
Love rests and toils here,
Love is what wishes the higher powers
And fulfilling their wills
Remains that which allows my heart
To keep on beating
And my will to keep striding;
Go! Go! And let me bask
In that sweet misery which has enveloped me!
Go! And never ever hope of
Having me with you
For my path leads me not to the oceans!
Gymnasts on the balance beam,
Poised and in control;
Somersaulting, toes a'point -
Gold their longed-for goal.
Dusted hands for surer grips,
Hair slicked back from faces;
Ready to perform what they've
Perfected through their paces.
Eyes like lasers, bodies taut,
They spring and bolt and leap,
Doing the routines they've practiced
Even in their sleep.
One false move, though, poof! it's gone -
The years and the years of training.
Through the smiling mask, we see
The hope so quickly draining.
Still, we must applaud their skill.
They've made it to the dance,
And though they may not medal there,
At least they had the chance.
What I'd like to give you, is an ounce of my cologne...
As your wish is my command. Are you already seduced by
It's sweet aroma? Your soul somersaulting with celestial bliss?
Then consider it a parting gift, my dear friend,
Because...because; gosh, it pains me to inform you;
It's been great fun; this is probably our final goodbye,
So I want you so hold on to a piece of me.
The whiff of my cologne is something to always remember me by...
Draw it ever so slowly into your breath; savor it
While it lasts. When the sandalwood scent eventually fades,
I desperately hope the seed of remembrance sown
Within you sprout into a toweringly mighty redwood tree.
Oh, may you never forget! Bring me home; keep me caged
Inside the warm dungeon of your heart and mind!
Bring Me Home Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
Date written: 09/29/2021
Bored with the ambience of his room,
He needed a place where he could take off the gloom,
He decided to take a walk to the riverside,
Where his thoughts would go on a serene glide,
The tranquil of the river pulled on his heartstrings,
He sat down and took out his violin,
He closed his eyes as he played,
He was drowned in the symphony,
It hemmed his nerves that were frayed,
As he slowly opened his eyes,
His mouth opened like a vice,
A frog was jumping, somersaulting and dancing,
He was captivated by the scene,
It wasn’t a thing he had ever seen,
He stopped playing,
The frog kept jumping, somersaulting and dancing,
It was lost in the merry,
It later stopped,
They both stood looking at each other,
The fiddler smiled,
The frog jumped back into the river,
It was one of their several meetings.
February 1, 2023.
An idea whispers,
sneaking in on cat’s paws,
a sly grin curling at the edges,
as I sip morning coffee, unaware.
It dances on tiptoes,
skipping across my mind,
twirling, pirouetting,
a ballerina in a china shop.
My thoughts, the porcelain,
shatter in its wake,
crashing into shards of laughter,
a mosaic of giggles on the floor.
It tumbles through my synapses,
cartwheeling, somersaulting,
a circus of delight,
each neuron a ringmaster shouting, "Encore!"
Tickles burst forth,
feathers of fancy flitting,
an avalanche of absurdity,
rolling me in fits of frivolity.
Ideas sprout wings,
fluttering like butterflies,
their colors a riot,
a kaleidoscope of belly laughs.
I am a marionette,
strings pulled by whimsical hands,
jerked into jigs of joy,
my sides aching with mirth.
Words spill like marbles,
rolling across the floor,
slippery, tumbling,
each one a new guffaw.
An orchestra of hilarity,
crescendoing, a symphony,
each note a tickle,
a crescendo of cackles.
I am breathless,
tears streaking,
sides splitting,
the world a blur of comic chaos.
In this delirium,
sense takes a backseat,
as I am whisked away,
tickled silly by a notion’s glee.
One day, not long ago, I was careening
like a kite on the winds of happiness
twirling through spaces of days that shone through all dark clouds.
Muddy puddles were beneath me, but they were far beneath.
My Sunshiny days evaporated the puddles,
yet always mud remains,
and from the mud a shadow form took shape.
It never seems to fail. . .
I’ll have almost reached the summit of my bliss,
a loopy kite somersaulting through blue sky
when by and by. .. the shadow form I’ve managed to pretend
I do not see has risen from the mud, awaiting me.
Bad luck, like a thunder clap, attacked my happy sky.
Joy’s buoyancy lost its grip on me. I slipped
plunging to the frigid ground -
again to be in disappointment’s shadow.
Written 10/6/2015 By Andrea Dietrich
For the Dancing with Description Poetry Contest of Casarah Nance
Wrapped in sapphire ribbons, a box of little seeds,
shivered in my palms as I unraveled the layers.
Planted in my garden, caressed by gentle breeze,
they sprouted into amorphous clouds from the soil.
Creeping along my window side they hovered at nights,
I hadn't imagined a shrub of vibrant emotions...
Ah! They burst in colorful showers in my dreams,
I dance on floating tunes in the ballroom of love.
Somersaulting across the nearby lawn they sweep,
gentle strides of cushioned blooming mellowed showers.
My neighbor seems friendly on gloomy mornings,
simmering camaraderie from sprinkled rain of joy.
I smile and wonder what magic those seeds possess
while they secretly wink from sprouting clouds at me.
August 12, 2020
"Mystery Seeds" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
~Winner: 2nd Place
"The Stages of Madness"
Blue bleeds
into each day
cloudy I wait
for some sign
from You
a ghost waving
who
could blame me
an Ocean inside
I am
Cumulonimbus
bursting
the clouds
gather the tears
in their reigning
signs
are forever
morphing, rearranging
the meaningful
somersaulting
backwards, exchanging
messages, forever
changing, and changing, yet
clearly understood
soul swimming
lux vitae
in the
never never
ending
stages of madness
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Let There Be …” / Max Cooper
https://youtu.be/TVviQFKLMoU
“There was a star
riding through clouds one night,
and I said to the star,
'Consume me.'”
(Virginia Woolf, "The Waves")
Out on the wastes of the Never Never -
That's where the dead men lie!
There where the heat-waves dance forever -
That's where the dead men lie!
(Barcroft Boakes, "Where the Deadmen Lie")
"“A cloud does not know why
it moves in just such a direction
and at such a speed,
it feels an impulsion...
this is the place to go now.
But the sky knows the reason
and the patterns behind all clouds,
and you will know, too,
when you lift yourself high enough
to see beyond horizons.”
Richard Bach
‘Illusions: The Adventures Of A Reluctant Messiah’.
never never/the Never-Never
The unpopulated desert country of the interior of Australia; the remote outback.
"Mid 19th century so named from the notion that one might never return from such remote country."
Two hundred mile an hour they say
a Fireblade screams along its way
but when alas, the rider’s Ray
the Fireblade went a different way.
It sped down Chester bypass quick
for Raymond gave it quite some stick
but at a hundred, fifty plus
just one mistake will make you cuss.
So when he braked to miss a bend
the bike no longer man’s best friend,
deciding it was time to fly
took bike and rider to the sky.
But birds, not men, are born with wings
our spines can crack in high speed spins
while somersaulting through the air
his back was broke beyond repair.
Now Ray must face his life anew
not walking now like me or you
but finding ways to keep his flair
whilst tethered to a bloody chair!
Ivor G Davies