"curtsying" poems
White speckles adagio,
Battu,
Cabriole,
Finishing their performance with a
Pirouette
Into the shriveled
Grass
Curtsying to the
Sun.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
My garden blossoms pink and white,
A place of decorous murmuring,
Where I am safe from August night
And cannot feel the knife of Spring.
And I may walk the pretty place
Before the curtsying hollyhocks
And laundered daisies, round of face--
Good little girls, in party frocks.
My trees are amiably arrayed
In pattern on the dappled sky,
And I may sit in filtered shade
And watch the tidy years go by.
And I may amble pleasantly
And hear my neighbors list their bones
And click my tongue in sympathy,
And count the cracks in paving-stones.
My door is grave in oaken strength,
The cool of linen calms my bed,
And there at night I stretch my length
And envy no one but the dead.
1.5k
bridge to heaven,
apex of the earth and sky;
west by north, corner of a nation.
where the ocean deep and blue,
rises from its depths
to join the hands of sea blown grass,
together reach for cotton wisps,
the cirrus clouds aloft to clasp,
teasing curling locks of hair
in a brilliant sapphire sky.
garden where the angels visit,
stoop to touch the darkened sod;
swoop to give a breezy nod,
a soft salvé from above;
joining sailing boats
with colors flying,
their wings of sheets
catch winds offshore;
waves collide in dance,
splash at bow en-trance,
curtsying like a curtain call,
here at play they soothe, enthrall;
transporting, lifting, cavorting, gifting,
on breezes light with gentle lofting,
Zephyrus sends them over yonder,
ever distant, ever stronger,
’cross the strait to reach her border.
port of angels, home to men,
bridge to offer sweet descent...
this, the end of jacob’s ladder,
dream of angel’s softened laughter,
listen close you’ll hear their whispers,
words of grace in flowing vespers
blowing down from snow-capped ridge
gently ’cross the angel’s bridge.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Love lay dormant.
Neath near extinct volcano.
Fire from earths bowels.
Curtsying, the delicate female form, confesses to the sorrow of a million sins.
Archangels dance in celebration in collaboration, at dinner for the dragon given in the form of fallen gift.
Dragon kind screams at hearing lady wail, the whirling maiden impaled hung upon the spikes of a hundred shards of disrespect.
She was to be fodder for the dragon.
The dragon, he did so take pity.
The dragon lived in fantasy land.
His title was Sir Walter Mitty.
(c) Livvi
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Then the door is opened and Esshi comes in,
curtsying. "My Lady, this came for you."
I stare at her hand. "A letter? Place it with
the others."
"My Queen, it is from King Paul. His messenger
insisted that you read it today."
"Already?" I blink as I gently take
the letter and open it, revealing it's content.
***Dear Queen Lyn,
I hope this letter reaches you quickly.
I have everything planned out on my
end. The invites have been sent! I look
forward to seeing you and the other Kings
and Queen on the morrow!
Best wishes!
King Paul
***
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I chuckle as I place the letter back in the
envelop, "Well, you've got to hand it to him,
he works fast! Everything is going as planned.
Are Aurelinaea's presents ready?"
"Yes, My Lady!" Esshi beamed as I stare
towards the horizon with a smile.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC
"Be yourself"
But who am I?
I might be just an act, formed early out of survival
Maybe, I grabbed bits of this, and bits of that
Whatever role kept the wolves at bay
Throw in a pinch of people pleaser to the recipe
Pepper it up with a rebel with any cause
Did I borrow this persona?
What did I inherit?
Am I more like my mother than I'd like to admit?
Maybe I am performing
Indeed, the world is a stage
Am I curtsying to the audience?
All the world is so Hollywood now
We seem to be scenes in one movie after another
PAY NO ATTENTION TO THAT MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!
...Dead silence...
Uh-oh, caught
Hands up?
Okay, I surrender!
"Please, God, show me who I am"
Apr 20, 2023
Apr 20, 2023 at 1:53 AM UTC