"rumba" poems
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.
By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!
Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.
Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.
A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!
10.9k
I wanna dance the mambo,the cubin cuba mambo,
I wanna dance the cha cha,hips movement with the cha cha!
or maybe try the salsa, deep ,sensual, is the salsa.
I wanna dance the samba,the fun brazilian samba,
or maybe the lambada,brazilian hot lambada!
My favourite s' the tango,intense ****** tango,
Lost in the flamenco,ardent spanish flamenco.
May even try the polka,high energy in polka,
the Czech bohemian polka!
I wanna go and party,good time ,dancing the rumba,
latino americano,cubano, africano.
I wanna do the hip hop,hip hop,hip hop,don't stop.
Dance reign in the ballroom,
as I dance the Ball Room,under and above,
With you ,I dance my last dance,the classic dance of love.
Are you ready partner ?
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 2:54 AM UTC
Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of love this is Africa
What's in Africa? What's there to see?
I asked myself on the New Year's eve
I thought that I was good in geography
But I didn't know Lagos or Nairobi
I might be ignorant, I have to admit
About Africa I knew just a little bit
The great Sahara - sands of mystery!
The Nile river - so much history!
Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa
Namibia, Nigeria, Niger, Angola, Algeria
Burundi, Benin and Libya, Lesotho and Liberia
Burkina-Faso, Botswana, Guinea-Bissau, Ghana
Djibouti, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Uganda, Rwanda, Gambia
I saw a film on Serengeti Park
A one of a kind, a must-see landmark
I watched a documentary on pyramids of Giza
They're much much older than Mona Lisa
I heard that oldest coffee plants
Take their roots in Ethiopia's land
And that samba, rumba, funk and jazz
Take their beats from African drums
Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of love this is Africa
Cameroon and Congo, Malawi, Mali, Morocco
Côte d'Ivoire and Kenya, Mauritius, Mauritania
Tunisia, Tanzania, Eswatini, Eritrea
Sudan, Senegal, Somalia, Sierra Leone, South Sudan
You can travel around cities of Africa
Like Cape Town, Cairo or Casablanca
If you're in love or plan to be
Go to Zanzibar, feel that ocean breeze!
Climb up mount Kilimanjaro
Watch the zebras cross the Masai Mara
If you're adventurous, you're a dreamer
Take a wild trip down Zambezi river
Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa
Comoros, Chad, Cabo Verde, Democratic Republic of Congo
Ethiopia, Egypt, Guinea, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea and Togo
Madagascar, Mozambique, Central African Republic
Sao Tome and Principe, South Africa and Seychelles
Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland, I'm on my way to Africa!
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 7:33 PM UTC
Nothing like, a cat soiree
Dancing cats, it's their forte'
If you're ever in thoughtful doubt
Need to smile, but can only pout
Find the cats, at their hangout
As they sing and dance about
Doing jigs and Rumba ques
Square dancing, a happy view
Tapping out to follow thru
Catty moves, line dancing too
Here Merengue, there is jive
Frolicking free, fully alive
No better joy, of feline scenes
Kittens cavort, like dancing fiends
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC
Filling up, wide eyed, breathing deep
Avoiding the spillage, the jerking motion
Rowers giving elbow grease to churn out sobs
Of substance, grandiose design to sorrow
Bold, emblazoned tears of texture, relay
Racing to the jawline finish, backup tissue
Business flourishing, mopping up the fast flow
Red eye fostering their talents with expertise
Glooping globules on rain dance alert, dancing
The tango, the rumba, the belly dance parade
Of unchained dam busting, snot ravaging
Sodden and damp, choking its route outta here
All cryed out, on empty, exhaustion reigns, eyelids
Closing the stop tap to the off position, rearranging
Priorities to sleep mode, sinking down into sprung
Heaven, resting heavy lashes to bed, curling up
To while away the hours, silencing the alarm
Of solitude and inner turmoil, resting the think
Tank, cells charmed habitat of hybernation
Booked and paid for, down payment secured
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 3:38 PM UTC
she sneezesas the breezes
carry the pollen to her nostrils
she is small
and somewhat frail
but when she sneezes
she creates more than breezes
she makes a gale
and the noise is like thunder
as her lungs do the rumba
all in order to expell
the pollen from her being
her eyes cross
and fixate
on an ephemeral state
in order to calibrate
the legnth of the ah
in her ah-choo
sometimes it is
large and elongated
sometimes small delicate statacco
and then again it may be somewhere
in between the two
and after she sneezes and gales
and wheezes...she seems stunned
by the fuss and disharmony
she created by nasal cacophony
and in her daze, the taps
her nose and says quite clearly
good old faithful....
.....thar she blows
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 8:04 AM UTC
****lovely Saturday morning....
might we dance a bit today
to ease off some sadness?****
DANCE
(A repost...some editing done)
The neighbor's stereo was playing tango music
too loud, it made me look at my red painted toes...
i realized, my feet hadn't even swayed
for so long now,
they've grown timid...and wary
All i want is to dance,
to be safe, warm,
close to one, as close as
cheek to cheek,
go left, then right,
lean, cling, then hold hands,
be held on the waist,
dip, then circle gracefully,
and step, a stretched arm away,
be brought closer once again,
hearing clearly the sighs
as the music reaches a high.
But, it was a chicken dance i had joined then,
the shaking and jiggling were so
repulsive...convulsive...confusing.
it mattered not who fell out of the beat
the desire waned,
fires die,
fires died, alright.
My feet are raring to swing back,
to be alive once more
on life's dance floor
no more falls, trips or missteps this time
just steps with a slower beat
with more grace now,
who knows,
this could be my best dance
ever!
This has got to feed my jazzy mood
play my chosen music
maybe do the shimmy for a while,
then shift to the bossa nova,
swing to its cool, hip-py rhythm.
Whatever the beat may be,
my partner and i,
we shall blend in while we do the mambo,
the rumba, cha-cha, even tap dance,
to celebrate this new chance on life.
I only wish that on our first dance together,
we may dance the samba on the wide floor,
let the hours fly by.
Then, with a waltz, we'll take it easy
until we finally get weary,
until we decide....to slow drag
the night away.
************
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
Havana, I arrive
in the sweaty thickness of July
caliente y picante
steamy sidewalks, steamy women
chocolate brown, tan and
black against the lemon-yellow walls
strolling through La Plaza de Armas
slurping thick café through weathered lips
in La Plaza de Francisco de Asis
dancing on the pregnant gray stones in La Plaza Vieja
timba, rumba, salsa and son
Cristo, Maria, Yemaya and Obatalá
Havana, I arrive
in the intoxication of your breath
between the acrid fumes
of insecticides and 1957 Chevy's
stepping past the dark grime of your slums
streets plush with tight round bodies
beautiful and sensuously swaying
I arrive snaking past the converted palaces
con las turistas ricos
and the buy-me-a-dress-and-a-ring ******
with their enchanting full-tooth smiles
and undulating earthquake-tremor hips
I hear your beat
the machine-gun laughter of your feet
on the hot cobblestones
with the jinateros and street musicians
chants of Santería drifting from pane-less windows
Havana, I smell your heat
under salty faded sheets
smell the long, tobacco-stained nights
with your hips swaying
to the pale drops of ***
spilt from red lips
and the red drops of blood
spilt from your revolutionaries
spilt from the gorging of Machado and Baptista
and 500 years of foreign dominion
In Paseo de Marti
banners of Che Guevara
flapping in the moist tear-laden breeze
Fidel, cigar in hand
tirelessly raging in black and white
on a Russian 1960's TV
Cuba, I can see the green in your eyes
the peeling-paint bedroom dreams and
dirt-poor joy of your richness
laughing out the despair and desperation
dancing out the oppression and the paucity
the aching of your past
the battles of Castillo De Los Tres Santos
of the revolution
of living
and as I stand on the steps of El Capitolio
looking out at the decaying grandeur
I understand why
I will be back
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
One great thing about social dancing is
you get to touch people.
Sounds weird
but it's actually the most beautiful thing in the world.
Ballroom dancing- waltz, rumba, swing
oh my words, it's such a beautiful thing!
I'm not that good, but I can follow
if you lead, if you take me along.
Give me your hands, we'll go for a walk
down the dance floor, around the many couples.
Quick, quick, slow
One, two, three
Triple step, triple step, rock step.
Beautiful.
Why do you dance? Perhaps for the same reason as me...
perhaps to find some purpose in your own infinity.
Perhaps we've both come here with pain in our hearts
let it out, let it get washed away by the joy in the room
that will not leave any time soon.
Get swept off your feet by someone you like
You'll learn to go with the flow like riding a bike.
Listen to the music from the 30s to the 80s
and lift your feet to the rhythm of the ballads.
Ask that person if you can have this dance,
don't let them get away before the night is over,
before the last song.
Touch them, they'll touch you.
It sounds weird, but it's so
so beautiful.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
We danced…a night of passion, your hands, our hearts.
The tango, waltz, and rumba. Bodies hot,
The romance begins when quiet music starts.
Your fingers trace my lips as I talk…
“I need you.” Lean in, kiss me, bite my lip.
Give me the drug you know I crave. Don’t stop.
It is more than lust. A sinking ship
Is what we’ve made this. Broken, yes. But still…
In love. Your love, my wine. I’m hooked with one sip.
Abuse? The pain? The hurt? My daily meal.
And still…I stay. I love too much, too deeply.
No one knows what we go through, lips sealed.
You always trick me and I run back. Can’t see
The damaged, stained and bloodied, lifeless soul
You have left me with. Alone, content to be?
To me, you are hot and burning coals.
Too close, and risk the blisters embers make.
Perhaps that’s why my heart is gaping with holes.
I always give…and you always take.
To think…one single night started all this.
My hurt, kind heart is quickly learning to hate.
But when I say goodbye, the company’s missed.
That’s why I always come back to beg for more.
I need your touch, your heart, your voice, your kiss.
I’ll leave again, like many times before.
To come back…wondering what I’m trying for.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
What you didn't realize
was that you were a conqueror of fate
Having me ravished to the highest magnitude
you still pretended like you had no clue
A counterfeit image of
trust issues
Playfully taunting
but I was also hurting.
For I didn't covet you
to have doubts
Or descry the demur I doubted to dismiss.
But it's true
That somewhere betwixt the precariousness
I had relinquished my all
my heart; my soul
to you
without yet having been acquainted
with more than just the night
Without yet having been acquainted
With only you in plain sight
Your scintillating eyes
holding to the fact
that
I ought to conjecture
The earth is flat
.
.
.
You grin like a Cheshire Cat.
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
Warning: Explicit
If you've read
Boys With Toys,
It should come
As no surprise,
Girls talk
Just like Guys.
Having drinks,
And having fun,
The girls
Discard the curls
To think of rhymes
For naughty lines:
You make my ****** rumba;
You make my ***** clammy;
You make my **** taut;
You make my ****** latch;
You make my **** spit;
You make my box rock;
You make my canoe coo;
You make my ****** *** sooner;
You make my **** fluff;
You make my slit submit;
You make my cooch smooch;
You make my **** swim;
You make my flower shower;
You make my toe glow.
And when the last drink
Has been drunk,
The shy girl stands
Raises her glass,
To proclaim proudly:
*You make my **** grunt.*
And they did.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
You've got to have some rhythm if you're going to boogie down.
At the latest tango hotspot at the Roxy in the town.
The principles of foxtrot and the sways of swing will show.
That dancing with your heart will always make your passion flow.
When the bossa nova starts and the lady sings the blues.
The time is now to shake your hips and don your dancing shoes.
You trip the light fantastic, your shoulders shake in time.
Your fingers snap and feet will tap along to mambo rhyme.
The rumba stirs the frenzy of your heart in Latin beats.
You feel the crazy samba in the footsteps on the streets.
Your ready for your spotlight doing cha cha cha and jive.
You can never stop the lindy hop to keep your soul alive.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 5:27 AM UTC
Twirling and swirling and whirling
A flash of red whisps through the crowd of dull and funeral-like decor.
She spins aimlessly, messily through the practised, and utterly strictly ballroom dancers -
Their faces a monotany of emotionless control,
Their poise impeccable,
And only the tell-tale bead of sweat and counting under their breathe betrays the otherwise flawless act.
Again a flash of red, and the floor is filled with life...besides the robotic dancers (and I don't mean they were doing the robot) who were already in the midst of a rumba.
Her closed eyes lead her to and fro through the dancing dead,
Her wandering hands grasp at the music flowing through the air,
Although there is not a learned step to her unprepared jive and jiggle;
her passion and innocence are enough to let any shy observer know who the real master of salsa really was.
Her carelessness was enough to inspire anyone to dance as she did
-and to break the solid, conservative mentality of society
- and to break away from conforming to the norm,
And to be yourself, no matter what anyone really thinks,
Since even though everyone may judge you, there'll always be someone who thinks you bring life to the party.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
Dance
The neighbor's stereo was playing tango music
too loud, it made me look at my red painted toes.
I realized, my feet have not even swayed
for so long now,
they've grown timid and wary
of making the wrong step.
All i want is to dance,
to be safe, warm,
close to one, as close as
cheek to cheek,
go left, then right,
lean, cling, then hold hands,
be held on the waist,
dip, then circle gracefully,
and step, a stretched arm away,
be brought closer once again,
hearing clearly the sighs
as the music reaches a high.
But, it was a chicken dance i had joined then,
the shaking and jiggling were so
repulsive...convulsive
confusing.
it mattered not who fell out of the tempo.
the desire waned,
fires die,
fires died, alright.
My feet are raring to swing back
to be alive once more
on life's dance floor
no more falls, trips or missteps this time
i'd like to dance with a slower beat
with more grace now
who knows,
this could be my best dance
ever!
This has got to feed my jazzy mood
play my chosen music
maybe do the shimmy for a while,
then shift to the bossa nova,
swing to its cool, hip-py rhythm.
Whatever the beat may be,
my partner and i...
we shall blend in......be it mambo,
the rumba, cha-cha, even tap dance,
to celebrate this new chance on life.
Together,
we shall dance the samba on the wide floor,
let the hours fly by.
Then, with a waltz, we'll take it easy
until we finally get weary,
until we decide
to slow drag
the night
away.
*************
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Tango on a tightrope
Argentine Cross vibrating the line
like the strings of a Latin guitar
playing our song
only a spider’s web for a net
if we fall
Waltz on a wall top thirty stories high
our story tops them all
traffic below doesn’t even see
top hat and tails, silk gown
cocktails in our hands
Fred and Ginger sit it out to watch
Rumba on a rope bridge
hips sway in time
with the windblown span
gliding past missing boards
waterfall below shouts up to us
can’t make out what it says
Paso Doble on a plane
faux bullfight on a wing
Matador and his scarlet cape
pose and sweep
turbulence tilts the dance floor
ten thousand feet to the ground
Quickstep in the quicksand
feet so light in rapid step
no time to sink
flow across the surface
to syncopated beats
shoes left stuck to the floor
steps we mastered long ago
now we glissade and sweep
only to the rhythm of us
most challenging of all dances
and most natural of movements
always in step
dancing on the edge of our hearts
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 1:02 AM UTC
do the dance taboo boo
shake your hips for bongo
move your **** feet
eat you like a taco
shake that pretty ***
**** all over the place
im crying for it baby
put them in my face
do the chooka booka
ill eat you on the rag
lick your little ***
im your ***** stag
can you do the rumba
to the pelvic beat
drown me in your *****
i *** on lovely feet
oh your *** is candy
hair like wild fire
my **** does the cha cha
to your mouth it does aspire
owwie i lick your ****
your **** starts to squirt
i catch it on my lips
***** is so pert
do the dance taboo boo
there is no death like ***
spread wide your wings my angel
dissolve in butter ****
kiss my big *****
lick up all you can
better then a plumbers plunger
you love your big cocked man
i didn't mean to start a blaze
the house is embers burning
well you danced the taboo boo
and now your always yearning
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
while at the christmas party this week
still with painful feet
from the day before
but still i smile
and look like i am having fun
most of the females to young for me
but i can still show them some moves
or at least i think i can
they love the rumba on the tuber down in cuba
and think i heard no AC/DC at all.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
Corners of the mouth perk up
Do they signify a smile?
Is it lip service or genuine
Parting of the lips to show the teeth?
Does it invite the cheeks
To dance the rumba?
Are eyes looking down on it
With dismay?
If invited would they even
Blink in time with you?
Would a tear trickle
To form at the corner of your lips?
Watering down the smile
You have allowed to begin
The tissues line up to dab
Your cheeks, wiping the drops
From your lips, damming
Up the waterfall before
Your boots are soaked
While puddles collect at
Your feet and slowly begin
To drown you out
Why.....I'm not that person
I smile with my eyes...
I think...
Do I?
Can I?
Will I?
Have I?
Do I want to?
Yes I smile
Do others see it?
Is it in my mind and
Not widely known?
A secret within me....?
So may I share a smile
With you today?
One that splits from ear to ear
Makes my jaw ache
That creates sparkle in my eyes
One I know to be true
You smiled back at me today
Broad and unabashed
It was worth it!!
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
TABLE DANCING
The family were sat at the table.
Dinner was served.
They picked up their knives,
they were coated with honey.
Picked up their peas,
Flicked them over the trees.
It was alfresco,
And they sat in the sun.
Naturally having bundles of fun.
The wasps invaded the honey clad knives,
Drove the men crazy,
as well as their wives.
Piles of sarnies, gracing the table,
With lettuce, tomatoes, and thin sliced cucumber.
Complete with slices of fresh cream cake.
Thought they'd try dancing,
"Bring on Swan Lake".
They all wriggled and jiggled upon the green grass,
the ballet got boring,
so they changed the beat,
now they're doing the rumba instead.
It wasn't the dance they hoped it would be.
So it turned into romance under the tree.
They sent the youngsters off to the shop,
so the time was theirs to bunny hop.
(c)Livvi
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
two ladies
dressed to ****
give me a shiver
give me a thrill
they kiss each other
their mouths pink and bright
tender and cruel
a kiss then a bite
******* brush soft
vulva's get wet
hands ***** *******
drools like a pet
******* explode
spasms and creams
hands touching thighs
sizzling dreams
oh they love
all candy and ***
shadowed eyes
lips like ***
ones a slave
the other her queen
then they switch
kiss and scream
its hotter then hot
a burning **** sun
melting butter slits
a tempest of fun
doing the rumba
pretty dance feet
swaying hips
gawd its sweet
lovely behinds
moving in place
what i want always
is ***** mouth face*
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
*it's like they're feeding themselves the line: things i should have said / thought about / cared about... me? bring on the woodwinds and saxes and violins... like the other day, they really wanted to make the classical music scene pretty by enforcing a weird post-colonial theory of how composers and musicians should be black once in the while, i dig that the japanese just love chopin, but come on: john coltrane, sonny clark, miles davis, cannonball adderley? who the hell wants it to look pretty, like a half-wit beauty of a woman: i want it mandible, not porcelain... next thing you'll be telling me is that a donkey can moo... jazz is an impromptu get-together, it's not an impromptu scribble scribble scribble readying a bunch of ponce ******** to sit it out stiff in a grand music hall - when i went to see swan lake by tchaikovsky the crowd clapped so frequently without a clear moment of aspiration to feel the music... plus i think ballet ruins the music, all that stomping, it's not an art-form, but an encircling stampede: plus i think it's also a sadism; rumba cha cha cha mambo cha cha cha tango cha cha cha foxtrot cha cha cha.*
after qualifying to be listening
to b.b.c. radio 4, after all the ponce
of classic f.m., i find that
people listening to radio 4
are craving a schizophrenic simulation,
they're the ones who never
cried listening to a piece of music,
they want company...
honest to god, schizophrenics (ego shrapnel)
complain about the symptom of
"hearing" voices (yes, the sense needs
ambiguity)... while those on
the b.b.c. radio 4 diet always want
company, they're not prone to liking
thinking... the world's weirdest simulator;
i'll admit it, even the cheesiest pop
music makes me feel like candy floss
in comparison to middle-age depth of talk.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
Entre le sac et le ressac
Ma muse nage nue
Au cœur des vagues
De neige immortelle
De la nuit tropicale.
C'est un mélange de sirène
Et de sauterelle
A la queue papillonnante bleue verte et grise
Qui plonge à intervalles réguliers
Dans le sauna des abysses
A la recherche des sources chaudes
Des volcans sous-marins
Où dorment les champignons sauvages
Et où paissent les rennes
En attendant le moka saveur airelles
D'un Petit Prince abscons portant masque, palmes et tuba
Qui danse la rumba cubaine.
Quand ma très chère se déhanche
Elle skie elle patine elle surfe
Elle nage elle plonge elle sue
Entre les battements de conga,
Les glissés et les déliés de son partenaire
Tout en tricotant des pas humides de calypso vierge
Ad libitum.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 7:48 AM UTC
you need each other
like a vampires needs blood
you've always loved her ***
those long legs
unexpected arguments
the word no
fantasies of make up ***
make up ***
late night sneaking farts
off spring
springing
debt and drudgery
till half dead
weight gain from a sagging liver
and retching love
labyrinth's of desire and anger
divorce; the sword of Damocles
a mad hatter
Zyklon B shower
seeing stupid through her eyes
my face like a vitrine of broken masks
the way she looks in floppy slippers
or dressed up in black and pearls
snoring with a gaping mouth
of floating spirits in intricate patterns
of darkness made of nothing
making believe your with someone else
*** fantasies I've never spoken of
in sultry dioramas of glistening leg shows
mosaic starred
baiting unguent nights
on my knees again
eating thorns
and she is more adorable than the rumba
a hot arsonist setting me on fire
canopy of flowers
golden apples and blood
pouring down shade sun and rain
decades of the same sentences
and the same dead sea silences
in claustrophobic tangles
of devotion
seeing who dies first
or left desolate;
with a legacy
of gnawing remembrance
that chew moth to cloth
lantern of vapors; weeping
it beats the hell out of being alone
at the end
I go back to the beginning
the marrying kind
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
Life can be a tango, a rumba, a waltz
Meticulously choreographed to display all of our faults
Also too, our perfect lines do shine
Straight through the cosmos, into the divine
Steps sweep lightly, ethereal and grand
A new beat, branched path,where sure feet land
I've heard many a rhythm, carried many a tune
Yet none so melodic as the one played by you
Our moves are cohesive, playful and smooth
Dipping down into love, feeling this groove
You taught and I learned,many new things
The simplest has no clue of the comfort it brings
We are not the steps that we take
We are the music we make
We are not the fabric between seams
We are bolts upon bolts, skeins upon skeins
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC