Short Arabesque Poems

Donning tangerine,
every creature was impressed
with your arabesque...

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unveil your musky mystery
unzip my rigid release
each alluring arabesque
scream my name..again...

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Her skin, an arabesque marble - unspoiled by mortal touch - beckons the warmth of 
Another such, 
That will eclipse every cold, bare and lonely night,
Laying in darkness, 
And searching,
For light....

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oh
  so
    delightful
is that 
thought,
it
brings
   memory
      alive
with
remembrance
of
those
yesterdays,
precious
as
  diamonds,
tangible
to touch

inspired by clip of Debussy Arabesque no 1...

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ARABESQUE  (triple Haiku) 

faded lace    old times
this favorite tune playing
“smoke gets in your eyes’

she said “I love you”
and at the moment    meant it
time jaded    spilt wine

simple arabesque
but oh    so complicated
she said    “I love you”...

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Like ballerinas airdropped from on high, 
Snowflakes pirouette to damask the air, 
Tutued geometries dimpling the sky, 
Veil our stinging eyes with arabesque fair. 
Downy fields we walk, where aureoles tide, 
And white breaths upon your face softly flare. 
As my swooning kiss to your frail smile dips, 
A wayward prism alights upon your lips....

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i pivot between
the unknown, and i know not what

life has left me dangling
from my mind

uncertainty mocks
my every foothold

reality teases me
then shrugs off its own beliefs

I am disillusioned by wisdom,
made foolish by every thought

I cling to a arabesque
masquerading as a mystic dance

yet
let me spin on

for somewhere ahead

i hope

a stop sign
will slow this dream down


...

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Arabesque


Dressing up the evenings’ shoulders
shawls of white silk bloom
enticements,
evenings on silk shoulders
making up stories behind the shadows,
through pomegranates of word the step is the story’s shadow,
the magi has stars to bewitch the deeps
into word.

Time, a wizard bewitched by stars,
spawns white shoulders of stars,
lured
by trails, the steps bloom on shawls,
the white agate evening
grazes grains of sand....

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December, thou art more to me
Than all of gold October 
More than April’s emerald sea
With June’s jewels spilling over 

December, how you shimmer so
Compared to bright July 
January cannot glimmer so
Nor February try

December, thou art picturesque 
As any August day 
You march like March and arabesque 
With all the grace of May 

December, how you captivate
More than sweet September 
Your beauty I anticipate
When it’s not yet November....

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She floats about on dancer toes
She spins and splits 
          and dips and flows
She glides and tips 
          She hops and lifts
She twirls and tucks 
          then stops and ducks
She moves around 
          in leaps and bounds
and flies aloft 
         (but comes back down)
It's true! 
         That Lindsay loves to please
She knows her art implicitly
For if you ask, 
          she needs not guess
Her pirouette 
          from arabesque!...

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Why is it that when we decline and we are dying there is no beauty in our bodies

though there may be nobility in our natures and in our souls, yet when trees in 

arboreal arabesque let fly their leaves floating to earth giving all creatures colourful 

hope, but we are at our worst in deathly pale and black croaking at the end the  

hope of eternity in different many ways, as the leaves do bunker compost go, 

                                  or the autumn fires so?...

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Bush: she had a deep
black birds nest.
Fecund Arabic woman
dark peaches for thin lips.

White faced, I redden in the sun,
a blanched fig, a thirst
for dew drops.

One night is enough, maybe two,
there must be a Spanish guitar
pleading the stars for more tears.

I have a comb
for her oval waves,
she is, for a while,
the mother of the world
the secreting seeds
of a fruiting pomegranate.

I am her despoiler of silk sheets,
she, a font of arousal
baptizing a love-song.

...

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