In Arabian singsong, the dancer began
Searching for tempo in desert sands
Torso twisting and turning to the rhythm of time
With a toss of her head and a shake of her mane
Tambourines rang, spectators clapped
the dancer transformed, shot into his lap
Wriggling her belly and lighting his fire
she struggled to control her desire…
… At the end of the night, slumped over, frail, spent
too many years barely paying the rent
Xylophones and tambourines delightful fun.
Children will easily orchestrate playful rhythmic melodies.
Hoping to develop musical talent.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
The sunrise broke free from dawn.
Drum beats could be felt but never heard.
Bass guitar strings wired the fiery horizon,
and the lead guitarist played 'hallelujah', quietly.
Clearly seen releasing imaginative music was a violinist.
There were harps and horns, tambourines and quiet trumpets.
Like a sponge, my soul was absorbing every musical note,
and like a ship, I was sailing upon a celestial sea of harmony.
It was one symphonic sunrise with the feel of heaven.
It was one dream of a morning; one melodic August day.
It was a real treat being graced by God between cotton sheets.
I slowly arose from a deep sleep feeling restored, rested, and sweet.
A beautiful dream had 'made my day' before it even began.
Nothing nor anyone was going to rob me of my blessed August day.
081924PS
There is a movement amongst Republican ranks
in The United States Congress, regarding the
the absence of religion in schools, and its
herald revival, like some Bible Belt Tent
-- minus the tambourines, being it is
The Halls of Congress -- after all.
In the wings awaits assorted
groups whose numbers had
enlarged, recently, due to
liberal channels, and that
is not of recent long ere
the days of backwoods
racism, --not all guilty
be the righteous few.
It's as if my, 'White
Lies' short story
-- resurrected.
Satanist sides with
the right wing in
hopes, it seem
they've filed a
proper docs.
to be a type
viable sort,
of faith be
admitted.
FYIs
As the young king
is coming
to collect his bride,
African traditional
tambourines
are playing
the drums
and dancing
African kwasa kwasa
and Congolese rumba.
Empty streets,
Naked trees,
Flowers,
Sighing,
In rhe chill autumn breeze,
With some gypsy ladies,
Dancing a salsa dance,
In a field of sunfliowers,
Surreal waves,
With windswept kisses,
Empty canvases,
And benches,
Waiting to be filled,
With hues and innovative styles,
A hymn hummed in a mango vineyard,
By an enchanting lady,
Tambourines and harmonicas,
Filling the cafes,
Miracle of beauty,
Miracle of you,
Miracle of rain in her damp hair,
Miracle of a poem read,
A kiss shared,
A song sung,
Miracle of nightingales,
Having evening daydreams,
With cabaret ladies playing violins,
In their translucent robes
Reynaldo Casison
The tambourines,
Are shimmering,
Like evening stars,
She put on her lovers makeup,
For her, through the rain,
And mist of clouds,
She was ready,
To dance again,
Into the shimmering night,
She dressed her,
Voluptuous body,
With a vintage gypsy dress,
And slid her gypsy fishnets,
From her heels to her hips,
Like waves carry its moonlight,
And love to shore,
As she danced, with her ballerina love,
The tambourines,
Shimmered,
Deep into the caress of night
Reynaldo Casison
Morose and shallow malaise is born
and cements within us loneliness laid down low
seek for safety amidst the woe
I assure you that you'll find; everything--
and everything will always be alright!
In those darkest of nights
Take rest in somber lullaby
for you will surely find the light
a gift of sight for those lifeless eyes
All that's mad and diseased is but rainy day
tambourines pining for a cure; this ceaseless apathy
and the oceans of darkened grandeur
pave the way for the beautiful expanding
of understanding; the full breadth of which
pales beside the burning fires of the sun.
Within the darkness of your mind
a spark is loosed and set in motion
should you so choose to see, and not to shun
the unfolding of your scars
will be all that rightly delivers unto you
Joy, Warmth, and Love
Burning brighter than a thousand suns
It's warmth lifting you to places far
and far away from that morose, shallow, and empty start
When you find that light; I propose to you
that you open wide and let inside
the spark that spawns such burning vivid sight
let it destroy the pain and deliver you
from that dark and eternal night.
Some sweet and glorious day
I will be swept into the skyline above
with all the angels and saints
when we will all respond to the thunderous voice
of the Son of Man ready to receive us, his children
from the mundane flesh of this world
I will be prepared to meet him
at the sight of his throne in glory
surrounded by his band of angels in white gowns
He knew my heart had fed and quenched him
with the love, praises and prayers he had seek
I can here his voice echoing
the sacred words of The Father
"well done good and faithful servant! "
through the years of my immortal soul
wishing me well with my new eternal life
in the New Jerusalem, my new eternal home
where I can meet all the saints old and new
and sing and dance my heart joyfully
to the majestic name of the heavenly Father
with mellow tambourines, trumpets and harps of praise
for his son is the eternal rock of our salvation
I am The Man on the White Horse
Who rides through your dreams,
The bells on my bridle clanging
Like shattered tambourines,
And my right hand is a banjo
And my left hand is a pick
And I bring them both together
In a fast Cajun lick
And I probe in your mind
Reach deep in your head
Searching always searching
Until you wish you were dead.
I am The Man on the White Horse
You created as your way
To sort out your thoughts
At the end of your day.
And my left hand is a violin,
And my right hand is a bow,
And I bring them together
For something sweet and low;
And your fear eases
And you gently sigh
To the soft slow strains
Of my sweet lullaby.
I am The Man on the White Horse
Whose mane is running wet
From absorbing your fears
And night’s terror sweats.
And I am moving backwards,
Or so to you it seems,
As you rise back to life
From confusion of your dreams.
And both my hands are normal
As we fade to nowhere
For you to face your new day
Free at last from your nightmares
Take the time to tune-in every now and then.
Listen to the whispers of the wind;
To the sounds of a passing train.
Listen to the power of the pouring rain;
To the soothing melodies as the birds sing.
Listen to the moving clouds, both white and grey;
To the language of the heavens urging us to pray.
Listen to sweeter sounds than tambourines;
To roosters crowing next door to setting hens.
Listen to the happiness of laughing children;
To the smooth and joyous pulse-beats
of a heart that is stress-free and sweet.
Listen to the calm, poise, stillness of a sunrise;
To the messages of those breathtaking hues.
Listen to the heavenly host of good news;
To the canopy painting eye-catching views of the sunset.
Listen to what God is saying as the tree limbs are swaying;
To the voice of the Almighty as we continue praying.
Listen to the relaxing orchestra of quiet nothingness;
to nature's harmonizing choir putting the weary to rest.
062922PS
I see in my dream, the red flowing river,
Red not from its source, but the shed blood of nations,
From Africa my motherland to Europe.
I hear the sounds, so hard in my head,
Not of drums and tambourines but of guns and missiles
I see right beside me, the one I had hoped and longed to share a meal
lying in the red flowing river
Am I next? is she next? are they next?
How did we get to this point?
where humanity lost its purpose,
Children are raised to tell not how red our blood is in hospitals but on the streets?
instead of guitars for toys, they are taught how to handle a gun and know grenades!
Has mother nature forgotten that the groans of childbirth for all races, tribes, and religions are the same?
was it only existent in my dream?
Am I next?
Next in line for the hate, the cruelty, and death so callously spread amongst brothers, nations, tribes, and races?
Am I next in line for the increase you need in the flow of your red river?
I can only ask and wait.
top secret!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
twenty one contract clause
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violens, chellos, giutars, drums, flutes, trumpets, tambourines, tenors
alto's, bass......
A cacophony of images flow
past and future dreams on the go,
thinking two things at once
focused on lunch,
twirling lights and jingled tambourines
paint a picturesque magical dream.
All is quiet, immobile in the sway
that dances in the mind play
while in the background soft and indiscrete
falls the wandering thoughts of mind talk streets.
~
Here on the night before yesterday’s dream,
twilight composers retreat
Laughing at whispers a’ flow on the stream,
happily taking a seat
Practicing meadowlark lyrics to sing,
strumming a toadstool in tune
Awaiting the light that the fireflies bring,
blinking a wink at the moon
Tulips with tambourines gather around,
spider web chandeliers glow
Shade tree sonatas, a wonderful sound,
echoing up from below
Pine cone recitals and blueberry sighs,
star dust ovations in rhyme
Choruses sung beneath velveteen skies,
harmonic three quarter time
Orchestral canopies glisten above,
melodic rainbows the view
Performing songs written solely of love,
played on this evening for you
~
I reposted this one because.....I really liked this one. : )
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