There is a flow that tempts the beat to expand beyond the tempo of social endeavors.
I taste the sweet sweat of the dance that beads into my mouth like nectar of magick coursing through me to become more fluid.
Stretching out beyond the ether like a current swirling, swelling, and then motioning me deeper into bliss that vibrates in space time
Time that dissolves into synchronicity with movement of the dance
A dance of ecstasy watching her move and knowing that the moment is never ending, yet hinges on its own conclusion that most certainly must come.
Shoulders smoothly rocking, hips swaying, and eyes too demure to let words encase them with their limits.
This is the treasure of life being lived.
This is the worth of being.
November 21, 1963
He took the harmonica
from the bib pocket of his overalls
blew thru left to right, low to high
back and forth a couple times,
slapped it on his palm
like he’d tamp his cigarette,
one of those unfiltered Camels
on his dulled dented Zippo.
He blew a quick riff up the scale,
inhaled it back down,
spun his harmonica around
slapped it a couple more times,
stopped as if thinking
about what he’d play
then smile that smile he’d smile
while looking at her,
start in on The Tennessee Waltz
watching her stand up, close her eyes,
hug herself and sway.
As he played he moved to her side
wrapping his left arm around her waist,
she draped both arms on his shoulders
and they glided around the living room
in a world of their own
viewed by us six kids,
all of us grinning and smirking
and making kissy faces
watching mom and dad,
mom singing the words
motioning us all up to dance
that night we stayed up late
that night before
president Kennedy was killed.
Does it Matter?
Does it matter today
If a cross stood high
On a hill
Two thousand years ago?
Does it matter today
If there
A man hung dying
In company with criminals?
To most,
Long years have faded fact
To history books
To lie like fragile threads
In ancient tapestries,
A mingled pattern
Of some fertile tale
Construed to build a church
On empty gullibility.
Self-freed,
Our media age
Needs no such creed,
No faith,
No God to reckon with,
No concept of beyond
To analyse and capture
By some smart device.
Our media age,
Itself held captive
On those screens of imagery,
Projecting violence
On a fragile world,
Disfiguring,
Slow-motioning to death
In the focus of a godless dream.
But a vacant cross
Still stands,
Calling lost sinners
To a life in glory!
A colorful time of year
The skies are oh so clear
The sun shines bright
For our delight
Longer and warmer days
Welcoming the sun’s blaze
Trees and flowers blooming
Grilled foods we are consuming
Pools opening
Divers motioning
Windows down
Cruising ‘round town
Bicycle riding
Hang gliding
Cliff diving
Race car driving
Trail hiking
Beach volleyball spiking
Early sunrises, late sunsets
Picnics packed with baguettes
Romance in the air
It only takes a pair
First kiss
True love is bliss
Twelve hours of sunlight
Not quite
Some more, some less
Ostara has finesse
Rebirth, balance, and renewal
Spring looks like a jewel
Fear often calls my name
Murmuring doubts
Darkness and shame
Motioning to my heart
Dread that silences with blame
Where can I go…
To my Savior, I proclaim…
Fear is like a black horror
Angry and bitter
Lamenting like a deplorer
Silencing the hope
Dimming dreams of the adorer
Filling hearts with clouds…
Soon, God will restore her…
Fear falls on the mind
Assaulting it with uncertainties
It has surely maligned
The joy that comes from confidence
Abiding on the kind
Who believe with all their hearts
Love is designed…
To bring light to the darkness…
Restore and remind…
That fear is in the past
Where God has defined
Love as His pen…
Writing on the walls of the soul… making hearts whole!
Isaiah 41:10 (KJV) Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
last Friday
My English class just ended and everyone’s packing up (18 students). The class is held outdoors under a tent due to COVID. My professor says, “Ms Vionet, may I speak with you for a moment?”
I froze, Oh, my God, I thought, is he about to tell me to quit - has he already identified some fundamental inadequacy in my work? The world seemed to go silent as I hefted my backpack and approached him.
“Ms Vionet,” he began.
“Anais,” I interjected.
“Anais,” he patiently started again, “We have a small professor’s choice (invitation only) writing group that meets every two weeks, 7 to 8 PM on Wednesdays - would you be interested in joining us?”
It was hard to hold back a pterodactyl screech of delight. “Yes sir, I’ll be there”
“Here”, he said, motioning to the tent classroom “weather permitting.” He had packed up, he turned and headed for some nearby stairs.
I did a twirl of joy.
.
.
.
ps, I write short stories too
I am older than you, my teacher friend said.
I am POSITIVE that you are not, I replied.
I am sure I am, she said, motioning for me to come closer.
I leaned down and she whispered “I’m 62.”
This was a surprise. I had pegged her at early fifties.
I only guessed this because her son is a doctor.
I’m not terrific at math, I said, “But isn’t 69 older than 62?”
She looked surprised now.
“You are sixty-nine!”
I nodded.
“And you’re still working?”
“If you can call it that.”
She kept yelling “You are amazing!”
She probably yelled it three times.
Delighting me.
Flying through the breeze, her soul searches for the edge..she is going to fall with the falling earth..
She gazes at the leaves..they are falling too..as if motioning ‘No’..don’t fall as the hardness would hurt your softness..the roughness would slash your tenderness..
Her soul wouldn’t harken..she wails into the nothingness of dark tunnel..
Her voice couldn’t penetrate the walls of shallow emotions painted with artificial décor..
Her soul wants to fall for him..Away from all other stars in the loneliness.
Just few inches away from the edge and she could feel her blood freezing into stone..
Her vulnerability increases as she reach closer to the terminusShe wants to know that there’s someone, whose hands..
Infinitely calm...
holding up her fall...
i've seen it several times
someone motioning, flourishing
waggling, swinging, curving
hunching, moulding, stooping
pulling shapes, a twirling
a form, a delineation, shadows
fingers, tree branches, winding creeks
sometimes a head inclines
obstructing the cityscape
what are they listening to?
what are they talking about?
we've done it, we've become greenwood
sometimes a jungle
i've done it alone after dropping you off
cold storage becomes publicised
i've done it
i've done it, yes, i've cried in
the car
alone
Mental ability
More on left hemisphere
Mobilizing neurons
Maximize mind power
Memory flows in waves
Motioning all logic
Motor exudes figures
Oct. 8,2020 11.05pm
Posted after judging: 10/12/20 6.03pm
Part 2
Memorize times table
Music is a great tool
Multiply and divide
Mastery is child’s pride
More Math operations
Made no more confusion
Miss Len’s innovations
Part 3
Miss Len was the teacher
Math problems made easier
Measurements- they did top
Merit badge since the start
More mental snappy drills
Maximized all their skills
Master key to their dreams
Written : Oct. 8, 2020 11.55am
WINNER (See Congrats below)
Since gales do by Nature’s arm blow
In dizzying storms far from the shore,
So even choiceless boats must move,
As unyielding gusts so restless prove.
Not every motioning vessel afloat
High waters as ship or small boat
Chose to tease furious ocean tide,
Or test mild sharks' waspish pride.
Some swift sea-faring boats would
Anon stop if winds in unison stood,
And relish a sober long-wanted rest
From hard sails by another pressed.
The wavy sail isn’t necessarily sweet
Just because that fast-voyaging fleet
Seems to glide over bubbly bounds
In unwillingly smooth gleeful rounds.
Remember gusts by Nature’s arm roll;
And mortals' temporal boats must fall,
Or rise along sternly unyielding trails
Left by glum oceans' unresting gales.
scurrying around, a bark to hear,
eyes see only, one of five,
paws remembered, your home
felt whole.
lines so romantic, motioning emotion,
blissful movements, clouded by
betrayed promises, your faith
was undisguised.
earnest tears, fall without catch,
relationships severed, voluntary release,
mentally tangible, your touch
could heal.
dire straits, listening, a weakness,
poring through archives, beauty's detail,
a picture found, your smile
wore love.
stopping
now just
standing
talking
as if to
himself
are you
following
me around
as he decides
then suddenly
picks up a fork
don't follow me
especially
to work
then
motioning
in the air
won't let you
in as he is
now beginning
to try to touch
the air
in front
of him
now
talking
out get out
of my head
scratching
do i follow you
turning around
i don't need to
have you been
dictating with
now throwing
a punch
in the air
compared
to yesterday
so you were
here but weren't
saying anything
but he's on the green
stuttering putting
last hole
holy f***
it seems
slowing rolling
to be going in
get out
of my head
inches away
stay out
it isnt going in
so well below
so far distracting
par is far
from you
and humming
the looping tune
in my head
that's it
for today
at last
please save me
not even close
the record's stuck
well below bogey
we
are the
champions
What is in the waters?
What is this image,
this that I view...
Those collocating waters;
Mirror imaging
viewed vision rippling
Seems like it’s raining
And how is this be
A tree atop of tree
Is it the roots or reflection?
Of things that be
Rolling are the waters
Envision is the tree
In out of the waters
Motioning, rippling
And how is this be
viewed vision rippling
A top the beauty
A tree atop a tree
Is it the roots or reflections?
Of things that be
Rippling
2/25/20
For GIF With Your Best Anything Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula |
Zelzebob thought he was alone until he smelled human.
His teeth began a happy masticating dance in anticipation.
He loved the taste of human!
What was that weird sound?
It was not a scream, more a chanting.
He had not heard sounds like this
Since the windwalkers had been dispatched
Away and in droves
He crept upon the forest, anticipating a fine meal of human.
This one was weird, delicate, looked even more tasty.
She looked up and smiled!
"Hi!" she said in a happy, friendly way.
He jumped back, frightened.
She was the scariest almost human he had experienced.
"Hey!" she yelled, motioning with her fist.
He ran back into his sky cave, daring not to come forward
Until he heard her singing.
It was melodic, better than the chanting!
"Hey!" she said, "Come closer!"
He did not think she aimed to hurt him, so he did.
He put a claw down, but he was trembling.
Scared to death of what might happen next.
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