Long Trapeze Poems
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Initially, an attempt
sought regarding Das scribe,
yours truly donning checkerboarded rawhide
collared, cuffed oversize raiment, pride
and prejudice obscured
courtesy hand-me-downs
couture also decking out
alley oop trapeze artist bride
of Frankenstein grooming in attendance
with her bonafide
circus motley crew, a veritable
monster mish mashup
happenstance didst decide
unlike traditional feted newlyweds
swingers airborne did only abide.
The law of gravity aerial
pas de deux bodies airborne
aloft pledging their respective troths sworn
fleeting suspended animation while shorn
infinitesimally of Earth's pull
only expert can playfully scorn
accomplishment courtesy no greenhorne
neophytes in utero umbilical cord,
taking root as metaphorical acorn,
thus unbridled and groomed skill inborn
burst out the womb like heated popcorn
snapped up since birth well worn
genes Ringling Brothers and
Barnum & Bailey circus practiced morn
till night stunts became second nature
encore performance no matters bodies outworn.
Curtain Call now doth close
unrehearsed poetic gambit,
cuz yours truly tuckered out I suppose
ready to take his doze
zee dough into dreamland, expose
zing oft times confused
with dark shadow of outer limits
of twilight zone, where me lovely bones froze
where sudden night mare arose
gripping courtesy rigor mortis head to toes
daunting wordsmith champion
manifestation of daily woes.
Suddenly me clutched
by melancholic despair
somnambulantly where
countless tomb morrows tramp
scarcely undifferentiated from yesterday's care
wracking psyche with wrath plus fear
at accursed purposelessness near
faux sing myself regarding pas
city to emulate good cheer.
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* O * \ / /
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* * * * \ / V
(( ))/****** * * * \ /
(())\******** * \ /
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| bushy tails on trees |
| burst on twigs' fying trapeze… |
| acorn fanatic |
Glenn Hughes Poetry Contest - Robert James Liguori
TOUCH MY LIFE: Glenn Hughes: TRAPEZE - MEDUSA (1970)
---------------------------------------------------------
I've been waiting
For so long
For Lord for you My lord
To touch my life
Now I feel it inside
Lord, stay with me this life
All of my life I’ve been running away
Around and around
Never turning inside
You are my soul, my voice, my life force
Lord, stay with me this life
I can’t wait
To embrace you like a child
Feel your love, Lord touch my life
Without your grace, I am empty inside
Oh this wilful life
I have lost much time, I now
Need you more Lord,
I want to feel your grace
Touch my soul
Touch my life
Dear Lord, I feel blessed
Now that I realize I need you
I need to visualize
I have got to have some
I’ve got to feel you Lord
I kneel and bow to feel so
The touch of your hand Lord,
I feel, I feel, Oh the feeling’s now inside
The soul as resident under the celestial tent,
where the pleasure spectator benches rent.
Flowered horses with petite ballerina,
cute monkeys with funny hats playing the concertina.
Jumping tides marvel with saltos in the air,
swinging in perfect timing above the trapeze so dare.
Clowns in silly gesture all about,
making all children laugh and shout.
Lions and Tigers jumping through loops of fire,
courage’s head in the mouth of the beast desire.
Bicycles and umbrella on the tide rope balance neat,
gigantic snakes handled by delicious delicate lady indeed.
Ramping applause for those performing young souls,
humble their quaint deeds and flaunt their pride while the whiplash rolls.
The undeniable perfect state of dream today,
remembering those moments to run with them away.
It feels like they are not afraid to be alive,
and shutting down the soul by silly security strive.
Living by the narrow sense of touch,
and forgotten lights from stars taken care so much.
The sense of adventure with tinkle spice,
eating the forbidden fruits of paradise.
Rolling with the beasts for the thrill of all,
riding bareback stallion with juggling ball.
The virtue of love to do is the ecstasy of mind,
the portal of tracing spectacular kind.
Memories beauty lives forever,
celebration of the senses altogether.
The greatest tent with its sparkling light,
the ultimate show of all tonight.
Bears, Scorpions, Bulls, Lions and Crab,
are some of the creatures on the twinkling map.
Aquarians, Librans and Gemini in the air,
while Sagittarians shoot those arrows fair.
Wandering giants of Saturn and Jupiter so slow,
taking eons to proof that determined grow.
Glittering Venus pasturing with a gentle whip,
keeping marsion wild beasts on narrow bolder wit.
Simulated danger in the Lions toothless mouth,
rolling drums get the senses aroused.
The funny distraction from Mercury’s to and fro,
laughter from a drama slapstick show.
Mysterious shadows turn to acrobatic skills,
when luminous hand and feet the darkness fills.
The trapeze of turning light in swing,
flying glittering Asteroids holding the ring.
Delphinus and Heraclites dancing the waltz of time,
juggling and balancing another new Moon frame.
Thousand astrologers as master of ceremony,
hailing the act of bend and change in that century.
When all planets cue up a conjunction,
centrifugal gravity by Carousel labor love function.
If then you heart is filled by some magic troubadour,
dreaming the ‘Gypsy’ in the ropes is the part for sure.
Falling back through the abyss of a huge astrolabe,
in speed of light a timeless flied takes shape.
A chariot with 7 horses is the conjunction of the soul,
virtual reflections inviting, from my face washing bowl.
A blessing of narwhals, swims Arctic seas
their unicorn horns held high in the air:
never having seen a thicket of trees.
Navigating waters that quickly freeze,
serenely aloof, untethered, and rare;
a blessing of narwhals, swims Arctic seas.
Swimming through frozen seas, quick as you please,
they're the undisputed masters up there,
never having seen a thicket of trees.
Naturally nimble, they glide and squeeze
through cracks in the pack-ice without much care,
a blessing of narwhals, swims Arctic seas.
Riding invisible currents with ease,
they jostle and spar each other with flair;
never having seen a thicket of trees.
They seem to fly, as if on a trapeze,
awed by their beauty; I can only stare.
A blessing of narwhals swims Arctic seas,
never having seen a thicket of trees.
Cruising on hued rafters midair
Autumn glides with its trill-like flair;
Lithesome the nights which blaze a sky
Longer still the music nearby.
While moonglow rivers through the trees
Stirring soft nightfall's misty breeze;
Hours call as birds and insects seize
A time to buzz or croon… to tease!
Illumined wings of silk-spun fleece,
Dance around blooms…a light trapeze
On prairies red, chanted notes wheeze
Until morning’s dew spills with ease.
Whistles wane but their wisps ensnare
Earth’s glory …is fall’s melody
A fine story … of tweets, gently
Cruising on hued rafters midair.
2/11/2016
Contest: 4x4 Pairing Master Rhyme
Sponsor: Silent One
~ End rhymes were used for Lines 14 and 15
~ The word ‘ hours’ : 1 syllable count
www.how manysyllables.com
On a nameless night, under a sky sprinkled with extinguished stars,
Thoughts trickle like oil in the engine of an old dream,
And I, a lost acrobat, sway on the thin thread of life,
Trying to grasp in my palms the essence of a world that smolders quietly.
You don't have to write to feel poetry in your veins,
It's there, in the smell of gasoline and the smoke rising to the sky,
In the eyes of the one who fills tanks with untold stories,
A poet without words, dancing among car queues and time.
I am an artist of the trapeze, not fitting into molds,
With my heart suspended between a yesterday and an uncertain tomorrow,
Each leap a long verse, each catch a moment of grace,
For between falls and flights, true poetry is born.
So, in the silence of the night, among ticking engines,
I wonder, who am I to name my art?
A trapeze artist of destiny, a dreamer in the shadow of light,
Or perhaps just a soul that knows how to breathe poetry without words.
The greatest Show on earth can be found
when the circus comes to town.
All the adults and children gather around
it's under the big top where they can be found.
A three ringed circus has all the attractions
so, step up an experience the action.
The ring master prevails with his whip
top hat and red tails.
He presents all the attractions
giving all such great satisfaction.
Tight rope walking, man shot from canon,
trapeze artists fly through the air
as though without a care.
Man eating tigers can be seen,
in a cage, in the center ring.
The man eating tigers
do what the trainers desire
even jumping through rings of fire.
Then there is a dancing bear
doing summersaults in the air.
Ten seals on pedestals in a circle
tossing around a ball that is purple.
Animal balloons can be made
by humorous clowns that don't have to be paid.
The finale is a parade
elephant's trucks clasping tails lead the way.
The circus is ready to perform another day.
Caught In A Sunstorm
(1)
Often on days when I am spent
And I am dry from a dyke burst
Of words
And the sun is hot in heaven
Wrapping me in sensuous warmth
There occurs the moment
Of that kind of woman.
For being sick to death
Of brand-name ethics, I rebel
And turn away to give play
To my mind
Where that kind of woman and I
Can romp unseen
By decaying eyes of half-humans
(2)
She will say
She knows nothing of Sartre
As she lies there naked
Like perfect work from Rodin’s hands.
He would approve, I say,
Because we are here together,
Now,
She tells me
She was with a circus once
As she demonstrates the split.
Good exercise and constant practice
Were her secrets to success.
I asked if she performed upon the high wire
And she relates tales of how
She would sit upon her partner’s shoulders
As they walked in space above a million eyes
But most of all she liked the trapeze,
Swinging by her knees
Upside down so all was blurry:
“It was good for the thighs,” she says
“See?”
A calliope plays at a distance
As hours pass; we never tire
For the mind has inexhaustible energy
We drink pink wine to make us laugh,
And she swings from her knees
Recalling the blur of love
(3)
As she slept, I took my leave
Because the sun was setting
And I felt its warning chill,
The movement of the planet
Controlled our time together,
And it was good
Knowing that a higher order prevailed
Upon the movement of our bodies,
The power of the mind,
The shifting of the planets
The moment of that kind of woman,
The equation of life and truth
That we eternal nomads seek.
(4)
Why must this moment lie obscure,
Hidden in rejection
Until there must be love?
Can a burning star contain the warmth of love?
For love is painful when it burns
Leaving ugly scars.
Yet she came with the sun
Leaving only comfortable fatigue
Whose sunlike burn remains,
A gentle tan:
The imprint of her body and her soul.
She will come tomorrow — if I choose,
And the next day and the next
Until I tire
Of that kind of woman
Whose perfection and endlessness
Are guaranteed by the sun
That lights my internal world.