Long Terpsichore Poems
Long Terpsichore Poems. Below are the most popular long Terpsichore by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Terpsichore poems by poem length and keyword.
I know of, and I rest in awe of the illimitable greatness of the river Congo, and the Yangtze.
I know of and I rest in awe of the brilliance and grandeur of Mt. Everest and Mt. Speke.
I know of and I rest in awe of the beauty of the Aurora borealis and the hop-skip terpsichore of the wallaby.
I know of and I rest in awe of the splendour of the sun setting in the fall sky, casting its aluminiferous orange and gold rays over the descending life of the maple, elm, birch, oak, and the willow tree, and projecting it"s image over the vast sea.
I know of and I rest in awe of the magnificence of Giza Necropolis, the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, the Grand Canyon, Machu Picchu, the Galapagos Islands, and Serengeti.
I know of and I rest in awe, as an awe-inspiring tears run down my face at the strength and the greatness I envision with daylight reverie. The reverence of your sepia beauty, your hair; the effulgence of a raven's plume. The grace and unworldly wisdom of you, my grand-girl, my little Nhandi,
copyright 2007
“as both this form and boundless space cravings of ego negated awake,
vibrant yet nonchalant bliss drenched heart remains elated”
~ Unseeking Seeker
Once stripped of hubris and inhibitions,
our stygian streams will glimmer with light,
releasing us from tethered traditions
to gleam like bright stars each nebulous night.
Vibrant becomes the mind with truths in life,
once uncloaked from sorrow's dark mourning shrouds.
We're fulfilled, no vacant voids, stress or strife.
Blissful beneath skies without nimbus clouds.
Unmasked, we're drawn as a somatic sketch,
and mindful of our spiritual needs.
No motley abstract conceived as a wretch,
our hearts will exult as wheat among weeds.
Once unbound, we'll dance with terpsichore, *
as Aurora applauds our liberty.
*Terpsichore is pronounced. Terp sic o ree'
Greek Muse of lyric poetry and dance,
as a noun it means a series of rhythmical steps
Attune yourself to see the miracle of music.
Merging with the dance is truly ecstatic.
Hey! Swing, sway and frisk, every way it’s fantastic!
Stir your senses, I wanna hear your riotous roar.
Unbound and bounce, in you I see Terpsichore
Just dance, just dance! Forget every frightening chore!
I call it meditation, the best way of catharsis.
Whirl, twist, sway and spin under wonderful hypnosis.
Dance! Just dance, it needs no basics!
Hey! Go with the beat. Dance to the tune of your heartbeat.
Don’t stop, keep stomping your feet.
Groove, groove, groove!
Don’t stop, don’t stop that move!
Yes! You are a blend of perfection.
I know dancing is an addiction,
Unbound soul’s reflection.
Groove, groove, groove!
Don’t stop, don’t stop that move!
To hell with the stares!
Come on come on who cares!
Dance to the music of spheres!!
17/03/2019
There is a mirror on the wall,
smooth and seven feet tall,
where she saw her own face
In a merry wedding day
and her mother’s necklace.
Still as Canova’s Terpsichore,
she couldn’t hold anymore,
the wind moved her around,
like a cloud in a sunny day,
with a long whistling sound.
Her feet glided over the land,
she dissolved like cotton candy
escaping from a tight embrace,
she wanted freedom that day
to beam with maiden’s grace.
Beauty is content like a child,
who found a rose in the wild
underneath a verdant tree,
blossoming in a spring’s day
and said: “This rose is me?”
Form:
Nyx opened black arms
threading her twilight fingers
and cradled my awe
to turn my hair, white
she filled my eyes with stars
firing a comet to
the core of my heart
my second breathe
carved dragons of fire,
as Aeolus filled each lung,
Terpsikhore sang music
into the life and death
of this epic
~~~~~
I taste a southerly breeze
catching it on the tip of my tongue
rolling it into my lungs
I sing appegio
to throw a shadow of night
the circle of her arms
has tightened,
and the nebula
in my eyes,
threaten to shoot
from their sockets
I have finally
felt the meteor
lodged in my heart,
move in its longing
for one last blaze
of release,
only the breath of God,
holds for revelation
~~~~~
TERPSIKHORE (or Terpsichore) was one of the nine Mousai,
the goddesses of music, song and dance. In late classical times
--when the Muses were assigned specific literary and artistic
spheres--Terpsikhore was named Muse of choral song and
dancing, and represented with a plectrum and lyre.
AIOLOS (or Aeolus) was the king of the winds who kept the
stormy Anemoi Thuellai and Aellai locked away inside the hollow
heart of the floating island of Aiolia. At the command of the gods
he released these to wreck devastating storms. Since the Winds
were often conceived of as horse-shaped spirits, Aiolos was titled
Hippotades, "the reiner of horses," from the Greek hippos ("horse")
and tadên ("reined in tightly").
Inside my mailbox late last month; nine packs of seeds - a mystery!
I hadn't ordered anything, but curious was I to see
what might become of planting them. So grabbing trowel, hoe, and rake,
I set about to till some soil; a little garden plot to make.
To my delight, the plants grew fast. I'd saved the packs to see each name;
though Latin isn't my first tongue, I'd know each blossom as it came.
Each flower shape was like a quill, which I then took back to my room
and onto paper, words would spill from every seed's enchanted bloom.
The packet labeled "Clio Phlox" was my first taste of mystery:
the quill-shaped flower wrote and wrote a tome of Roman history!
"Euterpe Hyacinth" was next: this writing didn't take as long.
Within ten minutes, written down were lyrics of a lovely song.
Then "Terpsichore Ranunculus" - after it drew a five-line staff,
composed a lively dance tune for the song lyrics - it made me laugh!
Speaking of laughter, my next bloom; the "Thalia Agapanthus" wrote
a stand-up comic's funny script - a joke or two I'd love to quote.
"Melpomene Nasturtium" was the one I needed tissues for:
as tragic words came pouring out, my teardrops splashed upon the floor.
"Urania Hydrangea" wrote sweet poetry of sun and stars,
of comets, and alignment of the moon with Jupiter and Mars.
"Erato Rosa" wrote some rhymes of kisses under stars above,
some ballads of infatuation, some of unrequited love.
"Calliope Plumeria" wrote fast and long: one poem came -
a tragic tale of epic length, it put poor Beowulf to shame!
"Gardenia Polyhymnia" wrote Psalm-like hymns, I said "amen".
My eyes were reverently shut, but when I opened them again -
I realized it was a dream! Nine muses came in flower form.
I woke, and quickly wrote this down (believe me, this is not the norm!)
//Note: The Nine muses of ancient Greece were:
//Clio - History Euterpe - Lyric Poetry Terpsichore - Song/Dance
//Thalia - Comedy Melpomene - Tragedy Urania - Astronomy
//Erato - Love poetry Calliope - Epic poetry Polyhymnia - Sacred Hymns
//... the remaining Latin words are names of some of my favorite flowers
written 12 Aug 2020
Of all the gods and goddesses
Found in Greek mythology,
My favorites are the nine Muses*,
Each means something special to me:
Calliope is epically bombastic;
Urania has stars in her eyes;
Erato's love poems are fantastic;
And Melpomene says of tragedy,
"It's not a play unless somebody dies.";
Polyhymnia's hymns're rafter ringing;
With Clio through history I prance;
Euterpe is kind 'bout my singing;
Terpsichore, not so much 'bout my dance.
But my main muse has always been Thalia,
We were so good together on stage,
And considering how long this gal's been around,
She's holding up well for her age.
Now that I'm no longer acting
I don't see her as much anymore,
Though I know anytime I get stuck for a rhyme,
She'll be there for me just as before.
She says I'm not much of a poet,
My verse is not epic and grand.
And she's right, it's not great, and I know it,
But at least it's not vapid and bland.
She likes to drop by to remind me
Of what she thinks were happier times.
When she wants me, she knows where to find me,
Here, scribbling away at my rhymes.
*The nine Muses: Calliope-epic poetry; Erato-love poetry; Polyhymnia-hymns; Euterpe-song; Thalia-comedy; Urania-astronomy; Melpomene-tragedy; Clio-history; Terpsichore-dance
I sense and feel mystique of its appeal
In vibrant, verdant, blossoming spring,
Splendorous prairies undulating breeze,
Resplendent falling of autumnal leaves,
Glacial winds bemoaning a frozen sigh,
A cerulean terpsichore of ocean tides~
I sense and feel, yet can’t cage its wings.
Purposeful, evocative, musings unwind
When elixir of missives invigorates mind
In tears of joy glittering mother’s eyes,
Holding hand of father, an innocent smile,
Hungry bawls tearing impoverished lands,
Cheers echoing hopes of clapping hands,
Grievous calls unleashed by fate unkind,
An uneventful existence berating its grind.
Though I pretend to reign world of words
And impute resonance to songs of birds
And conjure kisses from lovelorn woes
And dare personifying feelings of stone,
I struggle in thoughts to stage my show
Striving to rhyme verses stubbornly prose
Dawdling daydreams of poetic meadows
Attributing forms to shapeless shadows
Clueless of the exit from wordless throes.
Ah! dear reader, the poet in you knows,
Much alike an eagle boundless in freedom
Flight of artistry I’m unable to control,
Passions of its symphony, I do not own,
Depth of its ocean shall remain unknown.
August 12, 2021