Dance unrehearsed, keep spirits high
Thoughts but bind and confine
Plunge into the void, wingless fly
With call of love align
To feel complete and whole
Let’s connect with our soul
And fulfill our life role
To quench heart’s thirst
Dance unrehearsed
Once head and heart merge
Our creative urge
In jest
Chooses to emerge
As soul’s muse upsurge
To test
Whether we diverge
Or still do converge
Then rest
It’s time we confessed
That our zeal and zest
Innate
Is because we’re blessed
And our fears addressed
Abate
No load on our chest
We rise to the crest
Create
Tomorrow’s too late
Why for should we wait
To rise
Heart is heaven’s gate
Where bliss beats gyrate
Fear dies
Call it luck or fate
Freedom is soul’s state
We prize
14-March-2023
Don't ever forget
it could always be worse
That could be you
in a box in that hearse
Writing more than living,
the words in reverse
Living more than writing
—the Muse unrehearsed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2017)
HE'S PUZZLING AND UNPREDICTABLE. HE SHOWS UP AT
UNAWARES.
HE'S A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. HE PLANS AND PLOTS TO
THROW HIS SNARES.
UNREHEARSED CHAOS NEVER AUDITIONS FOR THE ROLE. HE'S A
SCENE STEALER.
CENTER STAGE IS HIS PLAYGROUND WHERE THE UNREST,
UNEASINESS, AND CHAOS ABOUNDS.
UNREHEARSED CHAOS NEVER NEEDS AN AUDIENCE - FOR HE IS
IS OWN APPLAUSE.
WHEN IT COMES TO DRAMA HE'S THE KING OF IT ALL.
AN AWARD WINNING PERFORMANCE SURE TO AMAZE.
UNREHEARSED CHAOS ... YOU'VE BEEN DEFACED !
All life is a poem,
new stanza each day
The questions unreasoned,
leaves fall where they may
My story in long hand,
the seasons in verse
Discovery my Muse,
—with soul unrehearsed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
The sun rises with unrehearsed drama
as an egrets wings its way gracefully
across the canal saturated
with lily pads near to bloom.
Nearby the cypress trees weep
in Spanish moss along the shoreline---
their knees rising daintily just above
the murky water line.
A sudden gust of wind carries with it
the fresh scent of rain falling
somewhere nearby---
wafting softly with it the smell
of vegetation in stages of decay.
Frogs croaking in the chorus line
in early celebration of showers
promised on the morning breeze
adds a musical touch to the scene.
Copyright © 2013 Debra Squyres
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