High atop his branch he clings,
a fretful, fidgety fellow~
September’s here (allegedly),
but Texas still screams yellow.
He peers down at the dusty ground,
no pumpkins, no autumnal spice, nor chill;
no brisk breeze swirling through the oaks,
just heat that just sits still.
“Oh fall, wherefore art thou?” the acorn cries,
dramatic as can be~
“I’m meant to drop with dignity,
not roast upon this tree!”
He wiggles, scoots, and shimmies,
but the branch won’t let him go.
“I’m ready for my autumn arc~
this summer’s just for show.”
So there he waits, impatient,
a tiny acorn with dramatic flair,
dreaming of the day he falls
into cool, crisp autumn air.
Hot air shimmies
down the dirt road
and asphalt sidewalk alike
Your skin is breathing
its little flame tassels
in unison
Chaos is here and there, everywhere
You are steeped in its ancient solvent
melting the rigid fabric of
long outgrown frames of mind
Offer your edge to the wild
unruly breath
to the dance of
constriction and release
Let the string of sweat beads
scatter on the floor of this friction
Flow down to the land of this skin
that knows no bounds
Holy water rising from the bone-deep well
to rinse you clean, wash you down
crack you open to surrender
dip you and your inmates
into the luminous presence
of an ordinary breakout
Hallelujah
The lustrous perfume bottle
avec neck spritzer and bottom caudal
With hexing brio it holds her captive
Pure rapture is sexually attractive
A woman’s torso a glass statuette
dressed in a golden chic corset
An old hippy scarf suspends on the wall
Her ‘Eau De Joy’ is kitschy after all
Shimmies into mid-calf western boots
She rifles through sequined body suits
Last touches of an aromatic scent
she deems the fragrance extravagant
Lurid lemon zest smacks of old school
Blithely vivacious leads them a drool
Juicy sweet notes from cleavage to chin
A whirlwind of hazy mist he’s in
Wild at heart with beats that throttle
A burning desire from a perfume bottle
shadow
shimmies up stairs
catches my eye
and ceasing its pursuit
stops so I can snap its soul
coiled and still
A tremolo of quivering,
movement of light
She shimmies she shimmers
like yesterday's gold ...
Like a gentle soft wind
on the fresh fallin' snow.
Lamettas of old
Quote: When earth’s one half faces the sun, the other half goes to restful sleep – Anonymous
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
With tilted axis
And elliptical orbit
Earth shimmies like Prima ballerina
With a graceful pirouette
She faces the Sun’s heat
Smooths out glare on her feet
At night she parties
Filling veins of her green
With stimulating goodness sap
Moon, the proud practice partner
Strenthens her seasonal jumps
Allows her to Celebrate
Appreciative Sun shines
More on the partner
To see well the glow on ballerina
Unmindful of Newton’s theories
Lush lives thrives on this duet
In the shadow of sunlight
Tom Cunningham has declared war on the elves this year,
The ones who hacked Santa Claus' computer. and I fear
the naughty or nice lists were mischievously reversed.
I'm very sure I heard Mrs. Claus gasp when Santa cursed.
A PDQ solution is needed for Christmas to be made right
before he shimmies down chimneys Christmas Eve night.
The last thing Santa wants is for the horrid girls and boys
to receive fun presants cuz they don't deserve great toys.
If anyone reading this knows how this crisis can be fixed
please overnight it to the North Pole care of Old St. Nick's.
PS... Don't use email. Remember his computer was hacked,
and it's my firm belief the guilty elves should be whacked!!
The treetop glimmers outside my window
As light, dancing upon the leaflets -
Shimmies about in affable yellow.
My gaze can't help but be captivated
By light, pure and perfectly aglow.
In the wind, swaying charismatically -
Every leaf is twirled as a ballerina -
Playing with my fragile jealousy.
I think I hear an underlying viola -
Oh, light - would you dance with me?
You walk down the halls with chatter illuminating every corner you walk through
But it still feels as if you are by yourself and only yourself while your mind is filled with thoughts you would never say to another individual face to face
EMPTY
You walk to lunch with your stomach growling
You sit down with your friends
Your head shimmies down to your crossed arms
You feel as if everyone is uncomfortable with your sadness and your inability to let out how you're really feeling
EMPTY
Eyes start watering as you stand up from the table
You walk to the bathroom in a normal nonchalant way hoping no one would notice your blotchy face and scratchy voice
You sit down in a stall
Knees to chest
Head to knees
YOU FEEL EMPTY
Tears fall
EMPTY
It rings from ear to ear
The silence
The wippering
Even if anyone else was with you to try and resolve the situation you would still feel
EMPTY
So instead your alone
Alone and craving for someone to fix you
Knowing only you can fix the emptiness inside
Hot chocolate hot chocolate I like it sweet, at Yule time I'll drink it then take a back seat
beside the old tree where Santa I'll meet they'll be cookies galore for St Nick to eat
as he shimmies and jiggles on two booted feet and a face flushed like rubious beet
I'll be eager to meet him but I will not cheat as I wait for the daylight now isn't that neat !
hot chocolate hot chocolate with marshmallows too I'll watch the chimney as I quietly chew
I have coated the bricks with butter and goo so his belly will slide,
(wink) he'll know what to do !
Down in the manger the angels acrue waiting for Jesus to
make His debut
While the Three Kings are offering their three gifts on cue, dear Santa
I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you
Hot chocolate hot chocolate I like it sweet,
but when it comes to Jesus, I won't take a back seat.
Fall is the most beautiful time of the year for me, with its blushing
Apples and fruitful trees dressed in zesty rubious healthy leaves with
Luminous fruit hanging off its stems, like galas, granny smiths, and fuji
Leaves of multi colored sunburnt shades of yellow, gold and brown
Inside the orchard, ladders, bushels, straw hats and farmer pant- grins
No better place to be then underneath an Autumn tree when every
Golden leaf shimmer-shimmies before swiveling down at your feet
Leaves that dance and shuffle-shake before landing in your hands
Earthing to the ground covering you with giant leafy dry crispy limbs
Arrest the night, stop the moon, hold the stars, its time to listen to the
Voices of the night, the falling leaves have their sorrowful story to tell
Ease into their season with a quiet soul. Help them say goodbye to the
Summer. After all it is the season of Autumn, a time for falling leaves.
September 27, 2021
Draped over the land like a ghostly shroud,
a blanket of morning mist
morphs into rolling banks of fog;
soft as an eider-filled duvet.
Dawn rebukes Night's claim to darkened skies
and armed with chisels of light,
sculpts ebony shadows
into shifting shapes,
sent scurrying into nooks and crevices.
Pink, indigo, and blue hues
expunge an ebony canvas of stars and moon;
as color emerges from first light.
While a bashful breeze blows silhouettes into disarray;
etch-a-sketching, a brand-new day.
And subtle sleeping sounds, slowly awaken;
giving voice to Nature:
while a scarlet sun silently shimmies up a crimson sky.
The glide of the plane almost in step with my rooftop.
Visibility of blue heaven low; lookout for earthwalkers.
My bland Toyota euphoric and banded by tight forest.
The span of an angelic chorus, a serendipitous psalm.
The predilection of dawn, a tributary hawk sails on.
The silver cross shimmies and shakes reflected in mirror.
I steady it with my heartbeat, my smile, my faith.
9/25/2020
the sun still shimmies up every morn
meanders down at days end
the moon fills the nights in various stages
morning streets are bombarded by struts slow and fast
cars sigh their usual obnoxious yells
sleep eludes me
tormented thoughts
you
occupy my psyche
brush stroke by brush stroke
and still never exactly you
your mona lisa allure
impossible to commit to memory
white flag in hand
surrender to your capture
trapped in the
the shame of my fragility
i hesitate
that jump off the cliff
i’ve walked the burning fields
where the smoke renders me blind
embraced my lack of sight
too many battles spun from steel
too many scars still not heeled
how does one exit this ride
this coaster of contradictions
i’ve found no path
A wisp of your outline
invades my sleep
how do i let go
how do I hold on
left in your hands
how do you find my where
if
i
myself
can’t find the starting line
Fri Feb 28
She Dances in Her Blue Dress
She stands beneath shimmering clear soft lights
in subtle beauteous of elegance.
A faint glimmer sparks in her eyes ignites
an idyllic aura anxious to dance.
She wears a flattering blue amorous
of the shoulder, flounce sleeves, body-con dress.
Adorned honey ankle strap, glamorous
rhinestone high heels; to show off and impress.
With the sway of her sexy hips moving
She shimmies to the drum beat and fast rhythm
leaving behind Chanel glance enthralling
fragrant in the crowded room dazzling them.
As she turns, walks away in her blue dress
Her honey skin purrs with weather's caress.
12/28/2019
Poetry Contest: Blue Dress
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausin
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