"minuet" poems
Sara L Russell, 19/12/14 00:58am
White gulls fly against darkness of winter trees
swirling in a reeling easterly;
bare branches stand in earthbound traceries
behind the birds that dance weightless and free.
There is a rhythm in this circling flight.
a lazy, slightly tipsy minuet;
a majesty in gliding wings of white,
a sign that better times are coming yet.
The dew has barely faded on the green,
two fountains bend before the icy breeze,
as seagulls, with a grace I've rarely seen
swirl heavenward, like flights of fantasies.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
The ballerina's pirouette:
This is the little triolet.
Within a faëry scene and set
The ballerinas pirouette
To a limpid midnight minuet
In Thumbelina-esque ballet.
The ballerina's pirouette:
This is the little triolet.
*
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
A Response to Thought Catalog
Number One.
"She won't touch your stuff
because she doesn't want to do anything"
Which also includes leaving her bed
before six pm
meeting your friends
or seeing the movie you've been begging her to see
since the trailer came out last year
Number Two
"She'll probably forget you borrowed
money from her"
or to pay the bills,
or your birthday
or getting groceries
Number Three
"She's a cheap date"
more than likely because
she doesn't care where you go
but she wants to be back in her bed
the minuet she gets into your car
because now her insecurities
are buzzing in her ears
and clawing at her throat
Number Four
"She probably doesn't want to
meet your family"
sitting in her room terrified that
she's not good enough
that she will never be good enough
and they won't accept her
Number Five
"She will probably get drunk
and you can have *** with her"
Number Six
"You can get free drugs!"
she knows about her missing
pain pills and antidepressants
but she won't say a thing because
you love her, right?
it's selfish of her to think she needs those
she has you. right?
Number Seven
"She has poor memory
and a short attention span"
Unaware of whether its Monday or Thursday
or if she ate this week
Number Eight
"She won't talk that much"
instead she can soak up your words
and turn them against herself
until they infect her insides with acidic words
ugly/fat/ugly/stupid/ugly/useless/ugly/worthless
Number Nine
"She'll pamper you because
she's sensitive"
Here's the newest game you wanted
I hope it makes up for me not being good enough
Here's some money, go out with friends
I don't want to bring you down
Number Ten
"It'll make you look better"
She's a charity case
a lost cause
who lost herself
but she's so lucky she found you
She's like an accessory
that you drag around
she'll make you look perfect
won't she?
It's supposed to be simple.
Dating the dead girl walking.
besides the fact she'll
bawl her eyes out every time
you grab your keys
or the fact you have to deal with
the burden of having to hide
your mother's steak knives
so you can sleep in peace
without worrying whether
you will find her lifeless body
on your bathroom floor
Number ten
You can romanticize
the pain she goes through everyday
while her hourglass hearts
last grain of sand falls to the bottom
but you will NEVER
be able
to say you were the hero.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Nobody noticed it at first
How she was losing weight by the minuet
“I’m not hungry” she always said
But I could see through her little white lies
Because little did she know
But Ana and I were also friends
Mia was my friend as well
Ana told me to skip meals
Mia told me to purge when I didn't
They say,
Hungry to wake,
Hungry to rise
Makes a girl a smaller size
“I’m not hungry” she says
She rehearses that same line everyday
Along with her fake smile
Because she can almost convince others
But convincing herself if the hardest part
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:10 AM UTC
Body like a stone,
eyes like the brim of the ocean.
Hope swells upon the shore of the beach that is my life,
water warm, sand in my toes, waiting for it, the desperate yearning for a new, clean, slate.
As it comes up the shore, I gasp and hold my breath,
for it has beauty that has engulfed me.
As soon as the wave came, it went, along with the one minuet of peace i was so desperate for.
I realize this, as much as hope comes to shore,
its always bound to leave again.
Everything leaves..
-D.R.G
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
**inspired by
Lidi Minuet
and her poem
"HATCH"**
I found an egg of crystal
it had a little crack
though beautiful as opals
integrity it lacked
I asked the Lord to help me
"whatever should I do?"
He told me to go and plant it
when the day was new
and so I looked for soil
but no soft could be found
so I planted my wee egg
in hard, forbidding
ground
I watered it with tears
for others suffering lack
and after a little while
the ground
began to
crack!
a tentative green sprout
pushed up its tender head
it grew up from the rocky ground
I had thought so dead!
I continued watering
I knew naught else to do
and a tulip flower appeared
the lightest
eggshell blue!
I watered then in earnest!
I wanted for to see
that flower strong and healthy
and what it'd bloom to be!
slowly the petals opened
and lo! there fast emerged
a'singing and a'fluttering
a little crystal bird!
out of the light blue flower
the creature dipped and soared
it was then I realized
my hope had been restored!
flying 'round my head
its feathers sent off light
as brilliant as a diamond
shattering the night
it was only then I realized
as the darkness fell apart
the soil was life's hardships
and the
egg
had been my
HEART
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/17/2015
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:17 AM UTC
Forgiveness, to forgive (for me)
Is essentially subtle- to a fault,
Beautifully it's practiced,
Yet inherently mistaught:
To ask of anything more
From the person you've done wrong
Is blatantly selfish, at its core
Pressuring them along.
Unless exactly, specific and honestly, you reiterate once more.
All the reasons which you petition forgiveness
And what you're sorry for:
To draw conclusions, assumptions and things, without the facts in place-
Was to right out start off in
an Unreasonable head space.
Furthermore, my tone of voice
And the disrespect it achieved
Is not what you- Alena, not at all
From me; should've ever recieved.
Lastly, explicitly I have to say;
I'm sorry for my aggressive words.
And the fact I reacted that way is
absurd
A retort- as a minuet or two, voice note
Deserved the block- and what you wrote.
*I'm sorry about this- discrepancy
I actually enjoyed you working with me.
I'll leave this here for you to find, &
Hope these words were worth your time.
When you read, know these are sincere; my apologies- true.
Not just mere pretty, fluffy words for you.*
Poetry's something I, almost know, you appreciate~ so heres an apologistic-free vers hyphenate.
Nov 21, 2023
Nov 21, 2023 at 5:56 AM UTC
Steam rising from hot cotton
Memories stirring
Turning a collar and smoothing under buttons,
first the inside, the plackets
then the shoulders, cuffs and sleeves.
Who knew the ironing of a shirt
could be such a minuet of parts
and caring
and thoughts?
The flesh these folds would clothe, the
hunching of the shoulders, the
reaching out of hands from
clean
crisp
cuffs.
My mother learned from my father learned from his mother
and I to you
bring hot fresh cotton
my love.
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 1:08 PM UTC
I am
just a
lovable ghost.
This name I get called by my host.
Here one minuet...
gone the next,
Though
I never came,
and never I left.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
Grief comes in waves
It ebbs and flows
One minuet you're fine
The next who knows?
My heart's in shackles
Binded in chains
Since the day you left
I've never been the same
It broke my heart to hear you were gone
I miss you
I love you
It's hard to be strong
If I could have just one more day
I'd take your hand then I'd say
I'm sorry I left
I'm sorry there was no goodbye
I'd give you a kiss
I'd try not to cry
I pray you forgive me for not being there
Life may be beautiful
But it sure isn't fair.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
Across the dimly lighted room
The violin drew wefts of sound,
Airily they wove and wound
And glimmered gold against the gloom.
I watched the music turn to light,
But at the pausing of the bow,
The web was broken and the glow
Was drowned within the wave of night.
2k
As we begin at the starting line we know who's going to win
There's the white rabbit
Obnoxious,Cocky,A *****
Fueled by red bulls an monsters
He can barley be contained
Fur coat at attention
Like there's electricity in the air
But we're drawn to things with a flair
In our eyes his white coat nothing could compare
It's special
Then there's the turtle
Passive,majestic,shy,common
The underdog
We only like them when there's a chance they might win
It takes each step gracefully
Carefully, trying not to impress
It's been counted out shunned for its slowness
As the race begins the rabbit dashes away
Down the trail reaching its peak on the straight away
Not looking back
His speed unforgiven
Giving it the illusion of hovering off the ground
Not a sound heard as it flies by
The turtle still at the starting line
It's progress unhealthily
It to makes no sound
It's footsteps stealthy
But it stills marches on
The rabbit far ahead
Looses his sights that this is a race
He knows the turtle pace
He begins to dash around trees
Running in circles
His momentum makes the ground begins to give
making a donut effect
So detracted he begins to chase leafs
Caught in the wind
So burned out he crashes
Falls into a trance like slumber
As the turtle still moseying along
Moving at a records pace two steps per minute
Begins to catch up
Soon enough it passes the rabbit
Flabbergasted hes asleep
Quietly it sneaks away down the trail
Pace still two steps per minuet
As the race progresses the turtle has the finish line in sight
Thinking this is its moment
To shock the world
But it ain't over yet
The sleeping rabbit awakes
Yawning an switches its nose
Starts running again
He sees the turtle in his sights
Confused how this happened
There's no way he's going to lose
But fate was not on his side
As he widens it stride
Trying to catch up the turtle just near the finish line
One step and it's all over
And just as the rabbit catches up
It's too late
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
Do not dare allow yourself to forget
trillions of stars do dance in the sky,
life is more than a simple silhouette
Some might fall like ash from a cigarette
and Evil will have his own alibi,
do not dare allow yourself to forget
Listen! For the trees whisper not to fret-
from ruins rise new hope to sanctify,
life is more than a simple silhouette
Mountains dwell in every view and yet
birds pay no heed for they grow wings and fly,
do not dare allow yourself to forget
Rivers ebb and flow like a minuet
and salmon swim upstream against the tide,
life is more than a simple silhouette
Though darkness above might seem like a threat
shadows begone one would never know light-
do not dare allow yourself to forget
life is more than a simple silhouette.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
I know you've got a heart of gold and emotions that run along your sleeves
but lately,
you're better with a bottle and some scrapped knees.
You're introverted
A minuet ******
But it's not the the skin you bare
Or the the way you touch
It's the way you've given up
You grew into the buildings
And buried yourself inside
between a mattress and ***** sheets
They won't save you
No, my beautiful raggedy Anne
No, they'll turn that heart of gold to stone
They'll paint your face with prophecies-
Little indecencies
You'll be ripped from some ***** banks magazine
A pin up doll
Such a perfectly decayed dream
I want to cut the string that holds you up
Hit the ground running-
Remove your mind from others hands and
Fight
Let bad blood filter into the streets and watch the acquainted burn into the night
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
While cutting the grass today
a strange thing happened
a woman that lives across the road
came across the road towards me
I did not hear for I had my head phones on
while my back was turned she spoken to me
the next thing I knew
was that somebody was poking me
so shutting down the lawn mower and removed my headphones
I saw the woman across the road
hi i said
and for an hour which was just a minuet
she said to me
you never see Grey flowers
True I said
turned my back and carried on cutting the grass
so i tell you one and all
Please Keep Off The Grass.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
She met me by the river and turned her cheek to the sun
taunting it. Her willingness could cause a mark in red,
like a statue she sits so still.
My feet dangle in the river, which she dare not touch and I know
why she must stay so fussed with the pray that is all in her head,
to think she may die.
Or end up dead down some dark dingy creek
gives me no better reason to meet her here where she knows, her
friends. To say goodbye is to become a foe with the daring woman.
So I just hope that she'll turn her head and pull the mask to her chin.
To look me in the eye and scream in my face,
that I might die tomorrow.
Even though I know she could strike me down this minuet,
with the river raging i'd close my eyes,
to the fish flailing, and my friends across the waters.
To the beat of the rapids, i'd happily die.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 9:08 AM UTC
The tribes trapped by a paradigm pair
A parasitic co-dependent braid
Ever dance the hate minuet so fair
And the dank hollowed halls drink the noise made
Cast as evil those who would break the spell
Powers fell curse upon you whom it rules
In patience we await the dead hand tell
They bank on that ancient snare, kindly cruel
To one day break that bank is our intent
To see freedom ever free is our goal
Too much control is our most fond lament
With bread and butter you would steal our soul
The mob owns the mules & they their riders
A ball peen hammer, still the anvil rings
For each Goliath there comes a slider
Tho’ framing hammers bang the 16’s sing
Since only you matter, then here’s the deal:
If it’s all relative, nothing is real
… including you.
Floyd Alsbach
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
Even alone in our graves,
we're surrounded by bodies
memories seep through dirt
like groundwater.
a marble quilt stretched
across our eventual bed
what a dream we'll find death!
deja vu on repeat in our heads:
ticking clocks still clack after their
battery heartattacks
just reverb in your eardrums
as real as phantom pains or
the shame you feel when they
state all your claims in
my court of appeals.
if we breathe, we receive the past's blessing we crave--
desire.
demand: hungry open palms of our hands.
So I stroll their napping grass blankets
my minuet appreciation
for the invitation to your bed
but my dreams are still too foggy
for my heart to be dead.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 5:29 PM UTC
Movement no.1
Andante con moto
Farewell.
I am leaving you
with the sweetness
and the sadness
of every creature on this earth
draped over my shoulders
as a shroud
We rest now
before the final struggle
looking down upon our lives
from a precipice
The wind calls up
a faint sound
a song
of healing
as resignation
So bring forth the dirge
let dogs and oboes
cue the horns
as we embark
upon a tender struggle
We are whipped back
and forth
between grief and glory
in this life
an indifferent life
lush with raw power
But thankfully
at the end of every day
there is sleep.
Movement no. 2
Im tempo eines gemächlichen Ländlers. Etwas täppisch und sehr derb.
Dance returns
and goes mad
Who could lift a leg
that high?
Not I.
The music careens
off the walls
in a dissonant minuet
of the hours
The clenched teeth
of each and every minute
grind here
as if time itself
took heel
and made a sparkling trace
across the pines
of this exalted floor of dance.
Movement no. 3
Rondo Burleske: allegro assai. Sehr trotzig.
A music major's delight.
Fugues against fugues.
Dense contrapuntal figures
and sarcastic counterpoint
shouting out
from the back of the class.
And then
just love
confused perhaps
but real love indeed.
Movement no. 4
Sehr langsam und noch zurüclhaltend
The violin
noblest of instruments
takes its place
In bitter sorrow
life soon lost
the fruit of the tree
is extinguished
the promise of green days
burned by drought
All is withheld.
There is peace at the end
but no joy
the abyss is only silence
and a taut string
connecting us
to eternity.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
Bristles, glide delicately...
over cold refuse.
Random bits,
of detritus:
and your broom devours them,
indiscriminate
a placidly lurking monster,
with an unchoosy palette.
It's almost a mindless,
shuffling dance,
with failure, for a willing partner,
while regret, lingers sulkily,
in a dark corner of the room,
and watches the two of you
locked,
in a very forced
minuet.
The world feels like it's over,
and every brush stroke, feels
like its own humdrum ending.
Then,
all at once,
when you least expect it, to
your agitated trash ,
lifts its papery little wings,
takes flight,
and flutters gently away,
in a storm of linen,
beige, and white.
The faintest flicker of hope,
rises, from the discard pile:
a wildcard moth
seeking its own, besotted flare,
of quavering torchlight.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 9:56 AM UTC
.
*A gemshorn and a mandolin
strike up counterpoint melodies,
as a harp and viola
caress the notes of a minuet.
Soft waves of music creep
around the joy of the Hall,
cuddling the fibres of granite stone
with a warming fire for all.
And she steps to the fore,
slippers of silk gliding so slow,
eyes as blue as robins eggs,
smile sweet as a full moons glow.
Hair laced with summer flowers,
a long dress of velvet green,
and the shawm she is ready to play
held lightly by fingers so keen.
Her tongue moistens shyly,
as the reed approaches her lips,
with fingers dancing over holes,
and deftly into a trance she slips.
Descending chords in choral hue,
drip colours into an aching heart,
the sweetest of mediaeval muses,
playing well her minstrels part.*
© Pagan Paul (21/10/17)
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
Scarf around my neck
Watching snowflakes as they dance
Winter minuet
Jan 7, 2022
Jan 7, 2022 at 7:11 PM UTC
pillows of wind, freezing the minuet dew drops on each blade of grass,
tiny ice goblets
dutifully every morning.
it whistles, slipping between
the barren trees,
curling around the crumbling houses
built in the '70s
a time when,
they may have kept us sheltered from Mother Nature's ghastly wrath.
whispering against the window panes, creeping past the glass frames.
icy hands claw their way across the floor, up the bed posts
beneath the sheets.
gliding cold fingers up my legs,
down my spine. wrapping themselves around my neck,
the fire in my eyes has died.
sweet release, a gradual fading light.
my heartbeat slows,
though inches away,
warm & unaware you lie.
boney tendrils squeezing
as I drift to my glacial demise.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 1:49 AM UTC
Alcatragedy, aesthetics, and a
Bubbly feeling beneath our feet. Let's
Cruise between channels; there's no need to meet. Re-
Doxx on Galaxy's
Extremeties typeset whatever is
Faked, overridden, and
Glistening in chic.
Hybristophilionic puressure
Infracts upon the fourth wall we seek,
Jicking, ticking, trickling in.
(Kickstarted convection)
Life is beyond a stream...
Minuet attraction
Null, neo, and novelty
0.0
Pulse or minus me.
Quantitative lacerations, fantasy and a fascination
Recreations masking
Softsations
Taint my rose and wildest dreams!
Unphasing
Vermillion reasons to like it.
Wordless, grinding sonar screams; Isle,
Xana, et tu. Rumble a shy oasis in
Yeses, twos, and please
Zzz
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC