"crinoline" poems
Is this not what it's all about?
Waiting in the wings,
stretching, turning, churning,
anxious and adrenal,
living for the dream,
wishing for the dream,
being
the dream,
dancing on beams,
beneath the streams
of lights and fans,
arrayed like a bird
in tulle, crinoline, silk, satin and linen
white plumage,
acting only on command,
the music soft and flowing
their frail, slender figures
take to air,
arms and legs,
torsos tender,
slender necks,
wisps of downy hair,
melding colours,
sights and sounds,
the stage a pedestal of fate,
their beauty
captured
in gilded cages
for all to watch and see,
recaptured yet again,
by the artist on the easel'd window
of his canvas,
a maestro of sorts,
tapping his baton-brush,
coating the blankness with sweet
inspiration,
like angels heavenly
brought to earth,
serenaded by strings,
life from the blankness begins,
covers the void,
bejewels the mind's eye
and beckons the ballet
rehearsal to begin,
yet shall in oil paint now
and for all time
never cease to be...
"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see."
Edgar Degas
____________
Inspired by the painting by Impressionist artist Edgar Degas,
The Rehearsal.
--to view the painting:
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/degas/ballet/degas.rehearsal.jpg
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 3:24 AM UTC
****** in a crinoline,
****** of Solitude,
spreading immensely
like a tulip-flower.
In your boat of light,
go -
through the high seas
of the city;
through turbulent singing,
through crystalline stars.
****** in a crinoline
through the roadway's river
you go,
down to the sea!
2.3k
The peaceful shepherd
dozing against warm
wood of a pasture
fence.
Where sheep live like kings
in a peasant's square
protected and fed
and led.
The shepherd's kin
cries weakly - but why
are you not in the
world, living?
A crinoline reply
floats above the sweetgrass.
Where would I
be without them?
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 4:19 PM UTC
i
youth is your neighbour's Bee
hive wax, candle lights, flickering Flame
lovely sorrounding delicate contours
on a pale gently shaped face
ii
thou eyes still shine with
chesnuts burning flambouyant
charcoals, who can lit Free choice
of will and thoughts of Heart
iii
eclipses of centuries covereth
you, waiting for a Cosmic chariot
to take this moonsoon romance forth
holding the Sky's beau crinoline
iv
I feel wurthering imagination
floating and tearing my passion for You
when Thee become Thou in my deepest
love passion taking chapeau off
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
In Corsets and Crinoline.
Tight lady in bones of whales wrapped!
Bustling out from behind.
Corset gripping at wasted skin.
Skirt stood as parachute.
For lovelorn lady who cried.
Dropped by her lover.
She wanted to die.
In a fashion of air filled hoops.
Laced up in corsets of bone.
Took sweet ladies breath away.
Trendy fashion of the day.
Chucked herself from bridge so high.
Spurned lady the wind caught her bustle,
So did she fly?
The trussed Victorian lady.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
Sweet lady in bones of whales wrapped!
Bustling out from behind.
Corset gripping at wasted skin.
Skirt stood as parachute.
For lovelorn lady who cried.
Dropped by her lover.
She wanted to die.
In a fashion of air filled hoops.
Laced up in corsets of bone.
Took sweet ladies breath away.
Trendy fashion of the day.
Chucked herself from bridge so high.
Spurned lady the wind caught her bustle,
So did she fly?
The trussed Victorian lady.
(c) Livvi x
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
and then we were us,
with ten fingers,
equal toes, two kidneys
and our souls,
so blessed and tan
from their sojourn
through eternity.
but you may not recognize "me,"
from underneath my burqa, my crinoline,
my mantilla,
my zoot suit or naval uniform.
my hair shorn-sheep-short,
or be it 10-foot-Marie-Antoinette-tall,
there, still, do I lie,
where once we passed, there again I will be,
and with hushed whispers will my lips part,
as they have for generations,
"how have you been? I missed you."
Dec 26, 2010
Dec 26, 2010 at 11:22 PM UTC
I place her gently
on the
counter
Defiantly
bait
complacent
eyes
But ...
They have
often
seen my sort
Likes of me they do despise
“Take a seat”
she spits at me
Such venom makes me smirk
I size up my surroundings
Maybe now I’ll go berserk?
You see ..
I
dally with
Dark Demons
Devil
Deep Blue Sea
A lifetime lived in purgatory
Why does no one hear my plea?
*Help me
Help me
Help me
I’m drowning in the mire
Throw me out a lifeline
Before my will expires*
Cherubic eyes start taunting me
Pierce my hardened shell
I beg you
to
extract me
From this hell in which I dwell
*I often dream this dream
Surreal and quite sublime
Where the essence of my character
Transports to another time
Bonny hats
Crinoline
In my pocket sits a key
I stroll
out
into the garden
Wait by the old oak tree
Watch the boy approaching
From the distance on his mare
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Recite the lord’s great prayer
Soon he is upon me
I hand him now the key
And as I stare into his eyes
I see that the boy is* me
I don’t know what it means
But it tends to soothe the pain
Until the cycle
Fires up
Vitriolic rain
Pollutes my brain
*Help me
Help me
Help me
I’m drowning in the mire
Throw me out a lifeline
Before my will expires*
I start to scream
I start to shout
I know with them
I have no clout
We all go through the motions
We all have a part to play
I give a star performance
They know I’ll rue this day
Soon I’m bound and gagged
Contained within a cell
And if you listen very carefully
You’ll hear the sound of the
Death Knell …
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 2:35 AM UTC
A mere illusion.
Mosaic shadowland in black and grey;
Yet in this silent world
Cottages stand, sunwashed,
Long after their demise.
Lured by the past
I wish to enter cool dark doorways;
To draw back faded curtains
And scent the wood-smoke
Within those secret walls.
Forgotten dandies
Watch from under crow-black stovepipe hats;
Memories of Waterloo
As fresh as Vietnam.
The Mutiny still unborn.
Moments after this
Stolen faded second, they turned away
Down Sheep Street to the 'Dog Inn';
For Porter and cold beef.
A clay pipe and cider.
Silent halted streets
****** back to vanished life and rural din,
The reek of horse and men
Now past recall. Lost
Moments. Gone forever.
While in her ghost garden,
Close by the gate and vanished red brick wall.
Anne Wheler, dressed in crinoline
And broad silk ribbons, keeps her
Rendezvous with my gaze.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
Snapshots
by Michael R. Burch
Here I scrawl extravagant rainbows.
And there you go, skipping your way to school.
And here we are, drifting apart
like untethered balloons.
Here I am, creating "art,"
chanting in shadows,
pale as the crinoline moon,
ignoring your face.
There you go,
in diaphanous lace,
making another man’s heart swoon.
Suddenly, unthinkably, here he is,
taking my place.
Published by Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly, Centrifugal Eye, Poetry Webring, Poetry Life & Times and The Eclectic Muse. Keywords/Tags: snapshot, picture, photograph, photo, album, memory, keepsake, remembrance, token, memento, art, replacement
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 12:12 AM UTC
the
persimmon
cloud
undressing
loudly
announcing
a
purple
passion
panorama
kissing
collective
cacti
cruising
the
crinoline
crepustular
monochromatic
cosmos
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
this was the day
one year ago
that was swallowed
by the distance between
you and me
when i slept through the sun
and thought i lost the day
because of a single letter
not even dropped from your lips
not even bitten by that one tooth
that's slightly crooked
but endearingly so
i assured you
this is the day i flew
over crinoline cities
and mixed drugs with my
double *** and coke
so my thoughts were wispy
and contentedly simmered
on the image of our hands
laced but not sappily so
this is the day
that i gave up willingly
in exchange for a few hours
encompassed by you
braver than i've been since
charging forward
astride my star-steed
merrily into the darkness visible
this is the day
that i knew
over constellations
and snakes glittering
outside of palm springs
that i was meant for bigger
and stranger things
than being alone.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
The old iron bedstead makes a good bed at
the bottom of the white cottage garden,and
out from it sprouts,
stinging nettles and a solitary tiger lily,
a filly among the rough,
nature can be cold hearted and tough.
Nesting in an old tub underneath a mulberry bush,
a blackbird sings songs in the morning which longs
to be older,
and an old well now dry but once wished upon by
ladies in crinoline
sits and silently cries out its thirst.
This was the garden to be in the cottage where we
had such sadness and joy.
Many years pass and the footpath falls under the fast rolling weeds,
the cottage now empty is still and
surprisingly white as if
the passage of years has been a delight.
Strange though that I still go to meander,
pander to melancholy in the place where
we kissed under mistletoe
so long ago.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
You've known the ***** of swords
the dresses crinoline
the corsets tight & bold
the way the camera
lets light unfold
the restless stare
of the director
shouting ' Cut'
the many roles
that asked you
to try to do more
than you were told
the leading men
the parties
the red carpet
the list goes on
you've known it all
so Happy Birthday
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
the crinoline in the corner
blinks twice
at the mascara
spinning on the vanity
slowly leaking blood
house cats pirouette down hallways
of marble and steel
ripping their claws out
as to not interfere with their work
******* don’t last forever
they say
two years max
three if you deflate them
every night before you sleep
there’s a lily
in the dining room
who pierced her tongue
with a cufflink
she once wore a crinoline too
you know
her sister works at a diner
from four to close
no scrambled eggs here
she’ll say
it's over easy or nothing
sausage on the side
but the crinoline
is too close to the fireplace
and the cats
don’t know how to love
while the lily
stopped being beautiful
when her sister melted
into the frying pan
a spark punches the crinoline
upside the face
and a ****** cannonballs
towards the toilet
drowning in bliss
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
You darling
Me failed
Failed of all
grammar
Failed from
within
Oof oof
Me darling
You caveman
And I'm assailed-
You with your
tuxedo grin
and me with
my crinoline
(Dance dance
dance away
from him)
Away from
Averages that
Don't average
If you know what
I mean (darling
Death hurts less
than to take it
on the chin)
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
my poetry was trying
to be something:
pretty, deep, unique
as if cosmic recycling
can ever be solitarily
special
that’s all just
suped-up vanity
lighting one’s own face
now I just try to paint
authentic real on
my vanilla ***
with crinoline skirts
flung overhead
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 3:05 AM UTC
Today, just as easily as yesterday
or even tomorrow, and who really
knows what sort of cosmic change
one more trip up the stairs, a minute
or so involved in finding a set of keys
can bring? I do not claim any bit of
godly eye into the possible futures
much less the remiss and distress
of the concreteness of the past
No
Even so I can tell you this:
Today I ran over a wedding gown
in the middle lane of a local interstate
and just as I was getting over the shock
and twist of so much crinoline, so much
taffeta, catching a breath and wondering
what it could mean: what looked to be
a golf ball bounced twice in front of me
then bashed around under me and
any hope of spying it in my rear view
was dashed completely
I was trying to listen to an NPR show
about the human mind and death and
what we think we can tolerate in the end
is exactly what we cling to, if only
to not end
I was reminded of my mother's slow
and lingering death (painful, thoughtless
absurd) and how many lives end that way
not at all what we plan to endure with
the pleas to please **** me when it comes
to that and not a minute more, absent
of all dignity which we think in our
last lucid moments is important;
which we think in our last lucid
moments is more important than
diapers or mumbling or ********
ourselves
And not a single one of us knows
when we will give in, what little
moment will mark the beginning
of the end- a golf ball, a wedding
dress, a wolf passing by our bathroom
window as we take a midnight ****
That could be enough, that could be
the undoing, a small grunt and a passing
fact, like you- passing, fact, past tense
just a glint in a lonesome wolf's eye
as you cross over from wanting to live
to wanting to die
Nov 24, 2019
Nov 24, 2019 at 10:39 PM UTC
"They were not well matched", she says idly
and I catch my breath, sharp winter air bleaching frosted
lungs, scoring skin into breached, breathless, baited sections
as the chambers and valves seize within, sickening
"Such a nice boy", she mumbles, "lovely eyes"
so nice, lips that tasted of stinging sweetness which strayed (stay) strayed and those bruised autumn irises, fighting fire with indifference,
burning tired grey witness to listless ******* ash.
"I wonder where he is now," that crinkled, crinoline mouth utters
wind howling, battering, shrieking of devastation,
fingers clawing cold, brittle blue skin, souring breath with
desperation's pant, oh, please, tell me-
"Not for you to care."
undeniable
in the falling snow, in the striking silence, suffocation sinking in,
sat still with the jagged old woman,
who knows or doesn't know, who cares or doesn't care,
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC
A translucent bluish-white mineral with a mysterious sheen
I hear them rustling behind heaven's plisse,
fabric seersucker curtains, opaque but unlaced
One breath and suddenly
I am a teleported into being
letting go of faculties and senses;
I am a prayer, hanging on everlasting hope;
These precious substances of color and charm
both calm and confident, ignite the soul
and usher you with peace, love, harmony.
Filled with Goddess energy
they exude warm tones of luminescent, ephemeral light ;
Hold out your hand then close your eyes
soon you will get lost in their clairaudient
Moonstone Melodies;
Yokiko reveries fill me like no other
listen to the sound they make
Angels dressed in crinoline gowns,
swooshing and spreading light
everywhere...
Lost in their chime like sound of tinkling glass
they are un-comparable,
A thousand stars of heaven could never compare
to these moonstone gems,
who seem to claim the heart bit by bit then,
all at once.
Copyright © Mystic Rose 2024
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 5:29 PM UTC