Sometimes, a picture says it all. No words are needed here. Write the poem!
MARIE’S SHADOW DANCE:
HOSPICE
As you care for his needs,
Understand that this is
A feeble, powerless shadow
Of his former self.
Take a look at the photos;
Each a glimpse of a charming gentleman –
Vibrant and spontaneous,
Handsome, comical, and full of life,
Loved by the beautiful woman you see
In the photo he keeps near his heart –
The love he will dance with again
In a matter of days.
© Marie Elena Good – 3/25/12
WALT’S FLIGHT OF FANCY:
YOUNG AT HEART
They shuffle past, indifferent and unaware.
There along the way these souls, bent and gray –
minds off to distant places; a familiarity
of wrinkled faces setting to stir in memory
as they walk alone. He and she, steps calculated
in a choreography of their advanced years,
and still muffled ears hear the muted music
of a bygone day. Benny Goodman plays in the shadows
and they join again in a youthful and joyous dance.
© Walt Wojtanik – 3/25/12
How lovely both of these poems are, tugging mightily on the heartstrings so poignantly – you’re right the picture says it all – almost, your words, both of you – lend a depth of feeling even imagination cannot quite conjure … thank you so much.
Very well stated, Sharon. I agree, heart-strings have been tugged. Great jobs both, poetical forces, gracious blog hosts! Thank you!
Marie and Walt,
You have chosen an intriguing picture for this prompt, and you have both dazzled us once again with your talent. I applaud both you Marie, and you Walt, for exceptional poems.
>|||||<
These are my handclaps. lol
Iris
REFLECTING
(a shadorma)
we’ve moved one
step at a time in
opposite
directions;
dancing only in shadows
of our memories
2012-03-25
P. Wanken
Sadness…
Beautiful!
A poignant reflection, I liked !!
So few words=big feelings…Great job, Paula!
Perfect shadorma, Paula.
Wonderful shadorma, Paula. You captured the moment.
When I read this I actually said, “Wow.” Powerful.
Wrapped it up well, Paula, so true…”one step at a time.”
Pingback: Reflecting (a shadorma) « echoes from the silence
Ohhh… this just breaks my heart for its TRUTH! Both so lovely.
Wow, that fits perfectly with a poem I just finished up this past week. I’ll be back later with a new one 🙂
Shadow
A little shadow of yesterday
Is all I have of you,
A lingering thought
Dancing in the light of memory
That cannot be eclipsed by my present.
Your right, Mary that does fit perfectly! Gorgeous words.
Thanks, Hannah!
🙂
So perfectly stated Mary … and you wrote this prior to the prompt going up? Don’t you just love it when that happens?
yep, it’s amazing how that works out some times 🙂
Great fit! Makes you wonder if your poem escaped and became a prompt for the prompt! Lovely, Mary.
Thank you for your kind words, Sharon. You all are always so kind!
Mary and Paula: Such perfect poems! Thanks for getting us started so beautifully!
Marie Elena
Shadow Dance
What if?
the shadows
of our thoughts
were depicted on a screen
behind us as we walked along?
I have a feeling
we’d stay in our homes
and not come out.
But God sees the shadows.
He knows and still loves.
Lord, may my shadow dance
be pleasing to You.
And, sorry, when it isn’t.
A very nice point of view.
Such an honest prayerful poem, Connie, this moves, thank you. 🙂
What a perfect prayer.
Beautiful prayer, Connie!
Hey….this became my morning devotional! Thanks Connie, truly a simple prayer.
Thanks, all! Very cool, 7A Sky
What a lovely, sad picture this is. You’ve all done a wonderful job of capturing the feel of it.
We danced in our youth –
Dipped and spun as our hearts sang
And the music soared.
Life interrupted –
Bills and work pulled us away,
Replaced fun with toil.
Now again we dance –
Our hearts twirl and leap and prance
As our bodies die.
Hearts never seem to grow old…
Welcome, Ellen! So good to see you and your work here!
meg
Hello Ellen! Very good message herein, not to loose our joy in the everyday toil, good words all and I agree with Mariya!
Never old, the heart, indeed….lovely Ellen.
Morning, y’all
Sweet Shadow
once upon a time,
when they were part of the night
her light was his voice,
was black-brown-gold,
was sweet-sulfur-bitter, molasses
and her name,
poured thick and smooth from his
wide mouth, rumbled
marble-rounded syllables,
was honey and delicious
she would want
to eat the sound of her name
of her self
lick consonants from the wall,
spoon pools of vowels
collecting on the tiles.
Wonderful, “her light was his voice” great line! Your shadows are indeed sweet!
AHHHH!!! This is just too good, Barbara! I’m really loving the delectable quality of this. Thank you for sharing! 🙂
This is so yummy Barbara … I can just about taste it … really good.
So musical and vivid.
Oh…I can hear and taste this. My mouth watered at the molasses line…I know the flavor, and upon reading this piece, felt the feeling. You’ve changed my enjoyment of morning molasses–that’s the kind of thing poetry should do. Well done.
Hi, poetic friends. It’s a wonderful picture prompt, Marie and Walt. And, although it seems to say it all, I read many wonderful takes on it, willing to share something more 🙂
Here is mine:
***
Shadowy reflections of once-crazy dancers –
That’s what we are
As we pass by each other
Neither seeing, nor remembering
Our true selves reflected in the window –
Shadows
Dancing
More true than
The hollow shapes
Dissocializing and
Distancing
Away.
***
So true, Mairya, that true self stays the same. Lovely take on this image, much enjoyed!
Thank you, Hannah.
Another wonderful take to be sure Mariya – I especially love …
The hollow shapes dissocializing and distancing … clever use of alliteration in a natural way … very nice
Thanks a lot, S.E. 🙂
“Distancing away”…perfect for the prompt. Perfect for the hearts there huddled in a determined stomp to where they’re sadly going.
Saltarello shadows
breach sharpened daylight
shimmying along
delineated by squandered theatrics
shortchanged dreams
freed from flesh prisons
movement forged by cane-less memory
invigorated by lust’s commemorations
a semblance of youth replayed
on screen of wide clapboards
as euphonious echoes linger
a last curtain call
in intercepted sunshine
~ Randy Bell ~
Nice imagery and wording!
Thanks Mariya
Many great words and I like the idea of being freed of flesh prisons, excellent!
Thanks Hannah
Your welcome!
very lovely imagery and grand use of words leading off with the exquiste “saltarello” … not heard everyday, I guessing … nice.
Thanks Sharon
Randy, deep imagery. LOVED the last two lines.
My poem won’t stick. I’ve tried 6 times. It will be on my blog: http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com in a couple of minutes!
Wonderfully joyful dance of life!! 🙂
For Catherine
She wishes she had enough power
to send healing energy
to the whole world
and make everyone
healthy and happy.
But she can’t even manage it
for herself.
She sees the sunlight
trying from the infinity
of space and time
trying to reach her flowers
as her sheltering eaves
block the bulbs
in darkness.
How the sun must cry
with her in frustration
as it lowers their heads
but only manage
to make the shadows longer
and they finally give in
to the darkness of the night.
Yet the morning sneaks in
with a whispered smile
and a sliver of white teeth
between lush lips
and kisses her flowers
until the eaves envy
grabs them back again
and again
and again.
Then she bends
to inhale the fragrant
remains of their struggle
and carry a single blossom
inside to remind her
of the potential that grows
in those tiny moments
when she allows herself
to push back her shadows
and step into her light.
Wow! Patricia, the last stanza really hits deeply, love this.
The image of pushing back shadows is perfect imagery. Wonderful poem, Patricia.
I know so many who “inhale the fragrant remains of their struggle,” so this stanza is right on target. I loved this Patricia.
You’ve both captured the essence of this picture so well. I volunteer for Hospice, so I can really relate to the feelings of being trapped in a body that no longer feels like one’s own. Very poignant poems, both.
Lolamouse, that is a wonderful and unselfish work you do. Not everyone is cut out to handle being a Hospice volunteer, but I thank God for people like you. Bless your heart!
Marie Elena
Lovely picture — and some beautiful works prompted by it! As Sharon said — all tugging at heartstrings. :-]
Busy day means… a haiku! 😉
They all pass me by
with nary a glance or smile.
You, alone, see me.
PSC
Brevity=Beauty…great haiku, Pamela! 🙂
Brevity is best. Fewer words means the greater concentration on the ones there are.
Nice!
And I agree with Hannah and Viv that brevity rocks 🙂
Sweet and lovely…there is so much honest in brevity, and that’s what rocks with haiku.
Shadow Dance
On that day,
so very long ago,
when I thought to pass
you on the street,
your dancing shadow
grabbed me and
has yet to let go.
Even now,
whenever we part,
I feel that tug as
our spirits cling,
one to the other,
vowed to dance
until life fades into
the shadows.
And even beyond the shadows! Such a beautiful poem to express this connected-ness, Mark!
Ah Mark – your work never ceases to astound me and this poem is no different … such a lovely testament to love. Bravo.
Absolutely true!
mhmm….to hold and be held…nicely captured.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!
A lovely affirmation of love.
“your dancing shadow
grabbed me and
has yet to let go.”
These lines grabbed me, Mark.
Loved this poem.
Pingback: Shadow Dance | Awakened Words
LOVE this visual, and all of the poems so far. Beautiful.
Here’s mine:
Step by Step
Before this cane
our hearts, untamed would
twirl and sway the night away.
Before these wrinkles
our eyes would crinkle at the sight
of each other gracing mid-floor, once more.
Before they creaked
these old bones wreaked delightful
havoc in speakeasy, lounge, for miles around.
Before it’s through
I’m asking you, just one more time, perchance
on this side of heaven’s ballroom: shall we dance?
I loved this poem! and what a fantabulous ending !
“on this side of heaven’s ballroom: shall we dance?” !!!!!
I’m in agreement here, De! So very well done and sweet, makes me look forward to growing in age and having someone with whom to ask one last dance. ❤
Oh de, I love the whimsy (pun intended) of this so much … it’s beautifully rendered … just wonderful.
An achingly beautiful poem. I sure hope there’s a ballroom in heaven, dancing is good for the soul 🙂
lovely internal rhyming, de
This says it all. Wonderful poem. One to keep, definitely.
Your internal rhyming is amazing!
Yes…the ending, the courage in it, the dare….that’s what I loved, the dare of love in it. Sweet, Whimsy.
Marie and Walt, These are absolutely two of the best poems you guys have ever written. Each was haunting and melodious in its one way.
I am also echoing Sara’s comment because after reading Marie and Walt’s poems this morning I felt so fulfilled that I couldn’t write for awhile, due to a certain ecstatic state I had arrived at by reading them, and had to dig real deep to contribute! I also just wish to acknowledge our magnificent hosts MARIE & WALT !! For all their splendid efforts to positively promote poetry !!
Thank you both so very much!
Us
I’ll definitely be echoing this sentiment, Cloudfactor!! Well said!
Ditto, ditto, ditto 😀
Amen.
AND amen.
~TRANSPARENCY~
In Your eyes
my spirit is seen
pure, good intentioned.
In Your eyes
my failing flesh
is fresh, perfection.
In Your eyes
as years dwindle on
love kindles, ignites.
You see through
thin, writhing skin
old, baggy attitudes.
You see deeply
longings of my human heart
fully, the depths
of my struggling dreams.
You sense my very soul
dancing, spinning in anticipation
a life just beginning
made fresh and whole
not a mere shadow.
A bright and shining light
connecting with her source,
and You see this in us all
our full potentials,
points and purposes.
And You love us into existence daily,
filling and preparing us for Your plans.
©H.G. 3/25/12 @P.B.
Beautifully written Hannah … and I love the title especially.
Oh, Sharon, thank you! The title is always the last part of my process and this one smacked me right upside the poetic heart! I’m so pleased you like it! 🙂
“You see through
thin, writhing skin
old, baggy attitudes.”
Love that phrase! A very moving poem, nicely done!
Thank you so much, Mary!
Lovely Hannah and fitting title.! This picture prompt was amazing.
Iris
I agree and thank you for your thoughts 🙂
Oh, Hannah…I have so many baggy attitudes. Glad He sees them, and occasionally sheds light on them for my own good…but loves me regardless, and like you say, “loves [me] into existence.” This is a dear poem, deeply true. Loved it.
Thank you so much for reflecting on this, Seven. I truly appreciate this, thank you! 🙂
Pingback: ~TRANSPARENCY~ « Metaphors and Smiles
Wow! Marie and Walt your wonderful poems and your picture have inspired beautiful poetry!
Thank you! 🙂
Thanks from me too, Janet!
Heehee!
Hoohoo!
Who’s who?
Me or you?
I think the first one is you! You meaning M.E.!! Ha ha!!
😀 !
:)’s to you!!
To who?
To you who and me too!! 😛
Anger weary hearts
fall cold,
While bodies wrinkle
broken-old.
But still a glimmer,
still a glance
Slim shadow of
Love’s last dance.
Shelly, I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. Welcome to Poetic Bloomings! This poem is on-point and delightful. Hoping to hear more from you. 🙂
Marie Elena
Shelly, you captured this prompt perfectly! Love it.
Shelly – I so admire succinct perfect poetry … nicely done.
Perfect! I love the rhyme scheme, makes for fun reading. Welcome Shelly! 🙂
Beautiful writing, Shelly.
Thank you all! You are right, Marie Elena, I have not left evidence of my visits here before. 🙂
Shelly! Just so clear and honest and straightforward. Just like I want to write one day, when I grow up and throw all my extra words away! Loved this.
Dance Me to the End, My Love
Through the gathering dusk I see you coming
Up my street again walking so quickly, whistling
Finally I can’t bear it, I’m out the door and running
The breeze off Lake Ontario fresh in my hair
My mother’s voice lost behind me, “…let him come to you…”
Your hair, burnished copper, catches the last rays of sunlight
And you are grinning so wide, deep holes indent your cheeks
—the biggest dimples, I’ve ever seen—
Your navy U of T Engineering jacket slung over your shoulder
Such broad shoulders, I fell hard for those shoulders …
I have to shake myself, it’s so hard to believe you are mine
We end up the same every time, so entwined
It’s a wonder we can walk at all –
Somehow we always end up at the bluffs—
Just at the foot of my street— there, hidden
Amongst the trees, dancing to our private music
Until the moon rises over the lake
And we’re forced to stumble back to my place
Do you dream what I dream sweet man?
That we are dancing still most nights?
Of course, you do, because it seems, we are
One of us slips ‘”Remember When” on the player
And you hold out your arms to waltz …
Two shadows of our younger selves?
Perhaps – but we seem to glory in the now
Of it – hopefully you’ll dance me
To the end of time …
S.E.Ingraham©
You have such a story-telling quality, draws me right in! What a gift, Sharon! 🙂
Such a sweet poem!
You had me from the title…
I love this “dance me to the end” – that’s how I see life, too. Whether it’s a Dance Macabre, I don’t know, in a way our entire life is. But in this poem of yours, you make it all worth it.
Wow! I can see these people as if I know them.
I don’t know where to start on this one, Mary. It is incredible. I love the story and I’ll just name one place – “Arthritic hands and withered dreams”
S.E., you must have BEEN there…so well told, you took me there too. It became at the end what I long for, for my last dances. Lovely, beautiful, endearing story.
Well, I’m back with a brand new offering. Turns out that picture had quite the story to tell me 🙂
Joy and the Magic Man
Over the years, Joy’s name
Seemed to fit her less and less,
Her spirit eroded by
A river of responsibilities,
Once supple skin scarred
By the acid touch of time,
Myopia pushing aside
The artistic visions of her youth.
She almost did not recognize him,
Black hair lightened into gray,
His slower steps assisted
By a cane that mirrored her own,
Nothing to gauge that he even saw her,
Much less remembered
The time when she was “his Joy,”
Back before she had developed
Any acumen at the craft of love.
He had been her Magic Man,
An alchemist whose tender touch
Turned her tears to drops of gold.
He sprinkled her life with wonder,
A belief that life was larger
Than she ever dreamed possible.
He taught her how to embrace freedom
In a sensuous dance of hearts
Uninterrupted by the outside world,
Two artists in love feeding
On the creative juices of the other,
Stoking a fire that overtook them,
Consuming and eventually leaving
Only smoldering embers discarded
In search of the next inspiration.
She set aside her brush
And oil paints long ago,
Arthritic hands and withered dreams
Unable to give shape to her visions,
But as she sweeps past him
On that cold January sidewalk
In her sensible shoes and sturdy coat,
Shadows of Joy and the Magic Man
Float in the fog of yesterday.
WOW.
Marie Elena
Nice!! So “WOW,” worthy!! Was the first word to come out upon finishing reading for me too, Marie!
“He had been her Magic Man,
An alchemist whose tender touch
Turned her tears to drops of gold.”
THIS is magic, Mary, et. all!! Really enjoyed the story within and your ending, “sensible shoes and sturdy coat,” I love that part. Really great poem!
Thanks, Marie and Hannah! Your kind words mean so much, that’s one of the things I love about poeming here in the garden. The muse has been rather cooperative lately 😉 I wasn’t exactly sure about the poem when I got it done, but I’m learning to trust my instincts and quiet that nagging voice of doubt in my head.
A nice blending of prompts, Mary…those wordle words disappear into the scene.
Thank you so much! It feels a bit like serendipity when prompts just sort of fall together in my head.
I’ll take their wows and raise them Mary … and you wordled here as well … impressive … plus used a great play on words with your protagonist’s name … very nice; a lovely poem.
Thanks! I’m just happy I was able to get all those words used in this piece, naming my protagonist Joy worked out so well, quite the happy accident 🙂
Please add my WOW!!! Very impressive!
Thanks so much, Janet! 🙂
Please see my comment above, Mary. I put it in the wrong place.
I found it! Thanks so much for your kind words 🙂
Mary, this is a WOW for me also. You made my heart hurt for these two.
Aww, thank you so much 🙂
Shadow Play (a Novo Otto)
The elderly gentleman hunched
over in the chill night air, bunched
his overcoat into a fold
as his shadow danced on the wall
with that of a girl, graceful, tall.
The elderly woman, bent, cold,
walked with coat collar covering ears
that rang with songs of younger years
when neither thought they would grow old.
Beautiful! Love the last two lines, just perfect. I’m not familiar with the Novo Otto form but it looks interesting, going to go check it out. 🙂
me too Mary – there are more forms than I have days to write (slight exaggeration) but Sara’s Novo Otto is so lovely … I must see what that’s all about …
Thanks Mary and Sharon. I do love this form.
This is very nice and I do like the form alot!
Thanks, Mike.
The form is new to me too…loved it!
And the coats…let me burn all my cloaks and coats now, while I am young, and I’ll hear and see and dance still when my time comes.
What a touching and lovely picture and so many wonderful ones already posted here, friends.
What Once Was Still Is
It takes a special eye
to see a dancing heart
in a battered body.
To look at us now,
hardly acknowledging
one another as we pass,
shuffling along on
three legs, shadows of
our former selves,
you’d never guess that
peeling away the work
of years—hard-won wrinkles,
white thinning hair,
hunched bodies slowly
bending back toward earth—
far beneath the pain
and cares that weigh us down
is who we really are,
our youth dancing across
our minds, their dark feet
connecting us to a dim memory
of us: light as laughter, glad,
sexy, and young again, beautiful
and about fifty pounds lighter.
Love the line “shadows of our former selves.”
Lord let me keep that special eye, “to see a dancing heart in a battered body.” WHY do so many poems, friends, prompt me to pray? This was special, Jane.
Shadorma to Shadows
The shadows
of ballerina
me and Fred
Astaire you
live in us no matter how
slow our dance steps now.
This is beautiful, Jane! I’m all for embracing my inner ballerina, even if the tutu doesn’t fit so well anymore 🙂
Thank you so much Jane. I didn’t know what to do with this prompt because there’s this sadness to it – this volume of decay. And then you here you show me the way out. So inspiring!
Yes, regardless of the “slow” dancing, or “slow” writing–we are here…thanks, beautiful shadorma, Jane.
Thanks, friends. I just came back to read. Such kind comments.
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The Sum of it All
Somehow we knew
even as we held each other
and danced that final dance
it was good-bye
Forever…
Even as life insisted on broadening
the past
and even as hope persisted
in holding its memory fast
We knew
the sum of it all
and the best we can recall
are two
vague
youthful
shadows
dancing on a wall
J~
Love this, Janet! That ending phrase, “two vague youthful shadows dancing on a wall” is just perfect.
Sad and sweet, Janet.
Yes, shadows are recallings, rememberings, sums…thanks, Janet.
Thank-you Mary
thank-you Sara .ad sevenacresky:)
I wrote this sonnet a few years ago but it seems to fit this photo nicely.
“A lover’s dance never fades”
Against my chest pulses a chord of not
one, not two, but three ragtime beats of love
for you, at tune, a rhythm you forgot.
Hear the harmonies? They race high above
your Brahms’ contentment of sweet baby rhyme
and hush sway. I say ONE and TWO but you
raise your bow to the strings of chant and chime;
I glove my hands in hopes of jazzy blue
soft shoe, slippery beats, and snazzy dance.
Come with lipstick and rum, my ragged beloved!
Old fool that I am for your dear romance;
Let’s get saucy tonight. Take a chance, love.
Dance with me like young lovers do in sweet
embrace, bodies twined in a lover’s beat.
A dance is certainly, always, a chance! Liked this, J Lynn. Especially “Come with lipstick and rum, my ragged beloved!”
Never Again
No one’s ever gonna whistle “Whoo-hoo!”
Cause my shadow looks so much
better than I do!
Ha! SO TRUE FOR ME, Marian! It’s thinner, that’s for sure, the farther the sun goes down. That may mean my ‘shadow’ is my last chance…
SHADOWS EVERYWHERE
A smile,
a warm and tender voice,
clear blue eyes,
brown,
grey,
green,
you could have fooled me.
Only I smile and say
hello.
Some day
someone sees me in
His eyes.
“Only I smile…” Regrets for someday, very sweet.
Shadows on a Wall
Darling,
It isn’t so much
the ‘not dancing’
that hurts,
but the parting of ways
Darling,
it isn’t the silence
that drives me mad
It’s the echo
of lost yesterdays
Janet, so many memories are just thin, faint shadows….or dark, harsh forms so unlike the reality we once knew. All are, as you said, echos of “lost yesterdays.” This was great.
Spectres
They’re older now,
really old,
no one to lean on,
sticks will have to do.
What might have been,
what they could have seen,
what they should have known.
All gone now,
wasted opportunities,
missed moments.
They might have dared,
they could have cared,
they should have known,
all gone now.
Friendship forsaken,
lost love lingering,
the scent of never was.
If only, if only,
but neither took that step,
each waiting for the other,
so alone they kept.
They’re older now,
really old,
so old they no longer see
who they used to be,
not even shadows come before,
simply ghosts who never were.
Gorgeous poem, Daniel. I love, “the scent of never was”
Namaste, Sara…you bring me joy
Daniel,
this grabbed me right at first….
“sticks will have to do.”
Sad regret. Loved it.
Thanks for loving it. I don’t usually speak about the sources of my writing, but this topic of wasted relationship opportunities is different for me. If the source interests you, take a look at “Natalie Calls” on my blog.
for some reason I see Marilla, and the sad look in her eyes, as I read this…telling Anne of Green Gables to be careful lest her protected stubbornness costs her dearly…this is a wonderful poem!
Silent Little Song
It was purely mamihlapinatapai.
I danced a dance with you and you with I.
So graceful all the steps and movements seemed.
Alas, it was there only in our dreams.
Yes, we had both grown older,
but neither one was bolder
than that silent little song,
and so we walked along.
By Michael Grove
Loved particularly these lines…
“but neither one was bolder
than that silent little song,”
Same here….love the whole poem but that line gives me chills:)
Dream Dancing
Aged prescriptions, tablets,
salves and creams but
forever we are dancing
in our dreams.
Step, step, slide. Riding
on moonbeams all
through the night. Sleep tight,
goodnight, old love.
Sleep kisses our dreams,
that awaken our youth.
We two.
We both.
We are waltzing
back into our youth.
Good waltz Misk Mask. My fav line: Step, step, slide. Riding on moonbeams all.
Good one, Misk. Sounds like dancing, and if it happens on moonbeams, so much the better.
Thank you Iris and Purps. 😀
Misky, those soft moonbeams are just right for this couple. Lovely picture.
Dancing Hearts
Walking with a cane, gritting my teeth each step I take
My heart is still dancing
You are stooped and taut muscles now sag
Still your heart dances
Once we danced til daunt and went to full day’s work
Now only our heart dances
It requires sheer stamina to walk this city block
Our hearts are still dancing
Soon our children will put roses on our graves
Our hearts will dance on still
Iris,
you nailed the “stamina” here, with the gritting teeth, sagging muscles, contrasting with the dance inside the two….lovely. Glad you didn’t delete.
By the way, I had only had time to look at the picture prompt on Sunday and just now got back to post my poem before I HAD EVEN READ WALT AND MARIE’S POEMS. Isn’t it amazing how so many of us talked about hearts dancing?
There are some very beautiful poems on here, I almost wanted to delete mine after reading some of yours. What talent. I hope I have time to comment on each one. Wonderful Week fellow poets.
Shadows and Light
There is magic in the shadows,
as they dance towards each other,
no stiff muscles, no canes needed,
unless it’s part of the dance.
There is magic in the light too,
casting shadows towards each other.
What’s important is not the physics,
but the frisson of the dance.
Richard
magic in the shadows…indeed!
It’s not the physics…I agree. Lovely point and poem.
Eternal Dance
The dance of life brought them to this moment.
As the music fades, they
dance one last time,
knowing love lives on.
DANCE MACABRE
Yes, I hear your steps
they are all over me
every day
and every
night
we are here only
we moved!
We moved from Russia to Sweden,
from Sweden to Denmark
and we moved from Russia to Poland,
some of us.
We moved and moved.
We moved to America, to Australia.
We moved.
We moved from Babylon, yes,
we moved,
we couldn’t stop the day
some one put up his finger down in
Africa
saying:
we go north!
No one
kind of said hold on
but
we just stopped here
and we
built houses
and
we raised kids
and
we died.
And here I am with
all of you
shadows and all
and
of course we’ll
head on
some day.
We’ll take the sky.
Liked this Andrea, thanks for sharing. Particularly “And here I am with all of you, shadows and all…”
@Hannah, I wrote this for you. It’s not finished. It’s how it looks today but still it shows that we are on our way. We’re moving and we can’t kind of help it. Only every shadow – whatever it is your own shadow displaying your exact moving or it’s an image of something else (like the prompt) – well, all together it says: You were here!
Hannah, thanks.
Shadow Dance
…and underneath our agéd skin
our hearts drum rhythms deep within;
with arms spread wide as if to fly…
the music in us spans the sky.
Just passing by us on the street
won’t show you how we hear the beat.
The kick-ball-change? It’s time-step. Why?
The music in us spans the sky.
Eight decades spell a vibrant dance
that you might see, if by some chance
you look past shadows. Close one eye…
the music in us spans the sky.
…and underneath our agéd skin
the music in us spans the sky.
###
Thanks for the lovely inspiration. It would seem that a grand jeté yearns to leap out above all of us. The form, by the way, is Kyrielle Sonnet.
Ah! that third stanza is lovely, RJ.
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Marie, Walt…loved the prompt, and your answers to it. Also everyone’s interpretations and inspirations. Here’s mine…tended to focus on the woman’s side of the prompt, and not her response, but…
Her Dancing Shadow’s Dare
Yes, I’m just her
shadow
thin and long, alone,
cast up on the
whitewashed
wall of years ago long gone.
Why does she not
know me?
Can she just not see?
I am hope, who’s
dancing
in the light of what could be.
Why does she not
listen?
Music lives in light,
playing dancing
rhythms
for her days, for her delight.
If she just would
wonder,
pause, and turn, and see,
then there’d be a
chance her
wrinkled form might dance like me.
Her gray eyes would
glimmer.
Tarnished silver shines,
rubbed with love
remembered
polished by a dance song’s lines.
But I know the
answer—
not that she can’t see.
It’s that she
for love
won’t risk a fragile history.
Days gone she must
treasure
till her dying day.
She fears that
a dance
would whirl her memories away.
“You Can’t Judge a Book By the Cover”
At first glance,
you see an old person.
Another look,
and you begin to take in details,
the quality and condition of their clothes,
their physical appearance,
the way they walk.
Eventually, in the matter of seconds,
you form an opinion
and keep on walking
forgetting the old person
in less time than it took to form an opinion.
While the old person
you just passed
is thinking what a handsome/pretty thing you are
and is reliving the summer of ‘45
when there was dancing in the streets
and of the dance he/she had
with a handsome/pretty little thing –
You glance back
and see the lingering smile
on the old person’s face.
And you wonder what stories they could tell,
who they were
and who they are now?
And that old saying pops into your head,
“You can’t judge a book by the cover”
You stop and make eye contact,
give a smile and continue on your way.
Never knowing the little ray of sunshine
you gave to an aging person
needing to be seen.
“We don’t even have tonight”
— The title of this poem is from a wonderful post
by Dan Paicopulos here: http://daniellivingpoet.blogspot.com/2012/03/natalie-calls.html
Our shadows understand.
This is the moment we dance.
Tomorrow is always tomorrow.
Now
is now.
Take my hand
and dance.
thanks, as always, for your loving kindness and charming Chev-ness…feel free to copy and paste that little call to action of mine…it has been published, but I sedn it out wherever I can as well…I just love hearing “Natalie Calls” stories from the universe
LOVE it!!!
Paper Chain People
We are paper chain people
Folded back and forth
To mimick movement
As if we didn’t live
In one dimension
Our bodies bear the mark
Of worn down corners
Translucent with age
Like paper thin faces
That never look back
Walk Away (While Your Heart Can Still Hold On)
You’ve grown old in love with her,
days apart; years together –
all fade into distant memories.
You want to save those thoughts
to sustain you when your mind
forgets her heart. But you start
to drift into the shadows of
forgotten dreams. Staying
is the wiser choice but her voice
echoes in the distance. You hold her
as long as you can and stay
until you have to walk away.
Life Stage
We moved across the stage,
two shadows in perfect symmetry.
Life, we found, was not a
choreographed performance.
Improvisation was needed and rarely
was there applause.
On the stage our toes were bruised,
now it is our hearts.
When did we forget the rhythm
of our love?
Can we find our way back
through the shadows?
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