"tambourines" poems
lady craighead played the blues
on a stand-up samick
in the ***** room
along side the parsons project
and squabbling dogs
and night moves
stairs creek
up the mezzanine trek
wool sheets slide
on finished floors
little angels
play late into the seventh
(a closing match nearing
the midnight hour)
croaking toads and cicada
sing in the blue moon
musty smells and mothballs
settle deep in the vault
the kettle boils
and cat coils
as the pump house rolls
its heavy drawl
the red phone rings
and bird clock sings
(behind the ruddy stall)
a sleeman variation of the ruy lopez
employed heartily
by the incomparable master jack
marble toast burning
wringer wash churning
chris craft running
near the old carp canoe
rooster calls
and west wind squalls
rustle through the porch screen door
chicken *** pies
and rogue flies linger
a rocker chair placed
near the sepia face
(softened by the intricate frame)
donkey in tow
(with a fastened ***
maggie in her dreams
of green tambourines
the nocturnes
reflections
and whispering gospel bells
tractors pull on
the grinder stone
horses lay still
in the mid-day sun
a trump card is fingered
at the furnace click
(crosswords and puzzles are next!)
while the sparrow
*and that **** rabid fox*
are drowning
deep in castles well
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
This poem is composed by: a Nonet, a Kyrielle Sonnet, a Free verse part, a Terzanelle and another Free verse part:
In a juerga there’s nothing around
But voices, flamenco guitars ,
Dancing bodies in moonlight,
Vibrant gypsy dresses,
Passion, obsessions,
Bullfighter’s blades,
Silk shawls,
Dancers,
Capes.
Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Flamenco women to attract,
Like barks of olive trees in night.
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Girls have boot heels and huge roses,
Men clench their teeth , step opposes,
Hands clap and shout in a dance fight,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Guitars are beaten at high speeds,
Castanets scratch the music’s seeds,
Rhythmic fingers snap air to bite,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Hands becoming wings
In their shadows on the wall,
Red becoming black and
Black becoming white,
Motion vibrating the guitar's string,
Cubic movements of colors,
In their dance ,
Shadowy wings becoming scarfs,
Flamenco woman arching her body,
Showing her passion…
From the soul to dissolve
The dancing sounds detach
From the soul to dissolve
When the movement they catch,
They may change all around,
The dancing sounds detach.
Drums and tambourines’ sound,
Exotic wrists and swirls,
They may change all around.
The weightless grace makes girls
Steal treasures from the air,
Exotic wrists and swirls.
With beautiful black hair,
Rise like birds , fall like leaves.
Steal treasures from the air,
Having tricks up their sleeves,
From the soul to dissolve,
Rise like birds ,fall like leaves
From the soul to dissolve.
Spicy slippery steps
Waiting for a clue,
Picking up portions of pink
Of hyper-femininity ,
Overflowing screwy sounds
In heavy red chromesthesia,
Morphing themselves into glamorous ,
Red feminine movements,
Men looking like marble statues being alive,
Seemingly cracking.
Slowly diminishing their dancing rhythm,
Steps sickling sweet sounds
To hear the horn of some lost happiness.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 4:36 PM UTC
I
Just as my fingers on these keys
Make music, so the self-same sounds
On my spirit make a music, too.
Music is feeling, then, not sound;
And thus it is that what I feel,
Here in this room, desiring you,
Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk,
Is music. It is like the strain
Waked in the elders by Susanna;
Of a green evening, clear and warm,
She bathed in her still garden, while
The red-eyed elders, watching, felt
The basses of their beings throb
In witching chords, and their thin blood
Pulse pizzicati of Hosanna.
II
In the green water, clear and warm,
Susanna lay.
She searched
The touch of springs,
And found
Concealed imaginings.
She sighed,
For so much melody.
Upon the bank, she stood
In the cool
Of spent emotions.
She felt, among the leaves,
The dew
Of old devotions.
She walked upon the grass,
Still quavering.
The winds were like her maids,
On timid feet,
Fetching her woven scarves,
Yet wavering.
A breath upon her hand
Muted the night.
She turned--
A cymbal crashed,
Amid roaring horns.
III
Soon, with a noise like tambourines,
Came her attendant Byzantines.
They wondered why Susanna cried
Against the elders by her side;
And as they whispered, the refrain
Was like a willow swept by rain.
Anon, their lamps' uplifted flame
Revealed Susanna and her shame.
And then, the simpering Byzantines
Fled, with a noise like tambourines.
IV
Beauty is momentary in the mind--
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
The body dies; the body's beauty lives.
So evenings die, in their green going,
A wave, interminably flowing.
So gardens die, their meek breath scenting
The cowl of winter, done repenting.
So maidens die, to the auroral
Celebration of a maiden's choral.
Susanna's music touched the ***** strings
Of those white elders; but, escaping,
Left only Death's ironic scraping.
Now, in its immortality, it plays
On the clear viol of her memory,
And makes a constant sacrament of praise.
3.5k
The milk in your breast has
soured
and silence of desert tombs
echoes through your heart
Those eyes,
once whirling gypsy skirts
mouth red cartwheels, tambourines,
night fires, dark and moist
invite — wilderness
Birds caught on thorns
flail
like arms that reach out to
nowhere
slowly delivering HIM, piece by
piece
to lurking crocodiles
Your children, tiny white candles
gather flowers to fill the chasm
form a human bridge, a link
an aisle for you to walk down
only this time
Alone
Marble eyes weep real tears
Trumpets greet
ISIS resurrected
takes her place, whole, strong
Transcendental
inside the chamber of
Kings
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
i fall and ascend in a sea vantablack
spiral light
fire ghosts and ice
that cut the soul to pieces
like scissors
that split rabbits
industry of a hissing creation
polluted altar of sleeping lakes
and scythe
bludgeon and howitzer
prods of push and pull
in a grindhouse
necropolis of craters
scattering satanic eggs and tumors
i am here born to you thin of bone
mother of catastrophes
on a colossal ball of scab and callous
that moves sonorous dazzling shapes
careening through
ephemera workhorse torches
of doom
you fill me with knots of terror
and desperate dreams of stairway wings
veils and glimmers
resolutions dissolving
petaled apertures of desire
and night whispers
in a spider web of sonic bulls
before undertows gravity
i was vibrant
but then i died into the rock ash of earth
they called it my birthday
my parents with party hats and balloons
blinked fetters
against nights of granite and stone
i got deader still
until i was nothing
but an imagineless gob of mud and breath
an eye looking out
behind red nerve forest fires
and tears shook tambourines
down heavy lashes
cascaded fluttering tassels
i am born to you mother of senile seas
citadel of shattered glass
in a slate cube of cyclones
mute and screaming
my fate deep shock
encased in mausoleums led nautilus
blatting hells jaundiced shriek
Pluto conjunct Saturn
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope -
She casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
And stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
The stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
Where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
Where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
Whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
Though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: “her age? a sweet 16,
With child, ***** her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.”
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
In limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
And all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
Which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
Neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
But Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire -
Beyond the nave, a gravelled grave, the final Rectifier”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
HUGE W A L L S
overlook
the
future....
timeline tunnels blocked--
Pink Floyd wasn;t kidding
about THE W A L L S....
But a HUGE hug hangs
the stone mental blockade
on the gallows under a crescent moon
while gypsies cheer with tambourines and
artists draw with the ashes from their cigarettes
and
writers jot down the joyous carnival mood between shots
Chinese lanterns and Ramadan Fanous
illuminate the b r i d g es
brrrrrrrrighter
iridescence and
swinging
with misfits dripping anticipation
spinning sufis swaying
to see the mural landscape opposite THE W A L L S.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Dreams flower in the silence of morning,
Fragile wishes
For tomorrow's tomorrows....
I feel his touch,
Tangible,
My heightened pulse
Aroused;
The wanton shivers,
Desirous and smitten;
The magma flows, deep in my soul;
Where his scorch of passion burns...
Embers sear, crimson,
Masquerading masked desires,
Dripping from his tongue's tip;
Sultry trickles graze upon my flesh,
A gentle sting, as fire-licks
His breath across my thighs,
A bite of ecstasy, murmur-whispering
Carnal need…
Imprints of insatiable,
Bind me willingly,
A fiery bandage
Piercing the scorch of hungry lips
Flaming my *******
With breath dissolved inside a kiss...
He savours the honey stream,
Branding his name upon my
Swelling, luscious pink…
Deeply buried
Arching into his mouth
Unable to contain the flame
Tambourines of skin seep ecstasy,
Ripen succulence untamed...
Kaleidoscoping emotions
Rainbow the thunder of my heart;
Milk and honey fuse,
Pulsing,
As rivers of love flood my core...
One love,
One passion,
One desire,
Bodies merging..........
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
Last night I watched in silence
At the end of the road in forest deep
I hid amongst the trees watching in awe
As gypsies dance while others sleep
Under the violet hue of evening sky
Haloed by evening's golden moon
I watched gypsies dance and sing
As flames from bonfires leaped high in the air
Dark haired women in shawls and beads
Happily dancing and twirling without care
Casting their spells of magic and enchantment
Performing their honeyed seductions
Blended with aphrodisiacs of scent and sound
Gypsy men with kerchiefs around their necks
Hoops of silver adorning their ears, singing joyful songs
Children laughing, dogs barking
As if they’re singing right along
Oh, I so wanted to join them as I stood watching in awe
Envious was I of their freedom and joy
Caravans painted in bright images and colors
Tambourines jingling as velvet shadows danced in the night
Skirts swirling, gold and silver bangles on their arms
Dancing 'round the bonfire's fiery light
Accordions singing, with happy notes from a fiddler's bow
As they sang and danced barefoot under evening moon
In the coming dawn once again...
It will be time for them to pack and move on
With a last meal served...
The caravans are readied to make another journey long
"Gather yourself up gypsy girls
Wonderful as it may seem…
A gypsies’ life is never their own
Time to move on
Time to find another home
You must have gypsy blood
In order to survive"
As their wagons move along dusty trails
They'll be looking for a place to camp
A place to call home... at least for awhile
A place to hang their colored paper lamps
Until...
Suddenly- a cry rings out
"Stop the wagons, ring the bells
We've found the perfect place
The perfect place for magic spells
Tomorrow brings a brand new day!
Let's feast, dance and make merry
Come on let's get things underway"
And so...
The journey goes on
And never ends!
"Gather yourself up gypsy girls
Wonderful as it may seem…
A gypsies’ life is never their own
Time to move on, time to leave
Time to find another home
You must have gypsy blood
In order to survive"
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 6:17 PM UTC
we took the long way
to Hadley and MacFadden, goin' about twenty-five in twenty-six ways...
twelve sheets to the wind at a cosmic chili banquet. we wove through the tambourines and headlights -
cruising through the pinch in the grid, on the Eastside. where Margret hustles feathers from very still pigeons, and Mosley, that little runt Mosley conquered Connie Haskel's Willow Tree in the backyard.
we were coming up on something special in our Hometown
but we were low on gas, and had just bought Beer.
this scenario was on repeat. night after night in the sultry debauch of a languid stroll in a couch rocket.
glaring at the skirts on Perkins and 5th, that eat seaweed and cough drops.
they're so hot you just wanna drive a better car.
we used to park -
at Todd's Mom's and walk to the Slaughtered Hog and order a rack O' ribs and drink moonshine, smokin' that **** and sitting next to ****** jockeys in jogging suits and headbands that say " i sweat profusely, when I want too. "
And Carmen What'sHerName? used to get our table 'cause i figured out the location of her section.
she would smile and bring pecan pie
and flash those eyes that said " i'm off in an hour " . we sang to Muzak - and
left our To-Go Boxes at the table; stumbling through the lot
fumbling for the keys to the TARDIS.
and thinking about Carmen.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
i
Off in the beaten path
An Echelon of secret tribal's;
I pirouetted with them in plumage
Mine queen showed up, just on arrival.
ii
Her timing was perfect
As tis she watched me caper;
Me and mine Reyna's amour'
Like tambourines, shook with ancient shaker's.
iii
Hot coal ember's
Igneous in ourn chest's;
Ourn pulmonary arterie's
Bracketed, by her tribesgirl dress.
iv
We were gladden
Betwixt the wilderness;
Under mango leaves
Jane seduced me, equatorial phene's.
v
Whilst the darkness wore down
And the tribesmen went to sleep;
Me and mine protector
In the dusk, disappeared, into eachother's soul's to keep.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Today, I am eighteen
And I'm going to the park later but sitting in the dark right now is honestly the only thing I need
Eighteen
I can buy cigarettes and lighters - responsibility is everything and it's like all these chains are getting tighter
I'm eighteen
I can get ***** magazines
go into bars, but I can't drink
And if I break the law my adult record'll forever be unclean
Eighteen, im all grown up now- act professional, be completely unsusceptible to childish things like tears and tambourines
Eighteen-
and this feels just like a dream, like a surrealist painting come to life but nothing's changed at all
And I'm finding myself missing
Seventeen
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
They all had tambourines for faces
which jangled when they laughed
fingers made from untwined
basket cases
and dusty jeans filled with the wind that caught them
they all sat down for dinner
It was spaghetti again,
"Spaghetti! Spaghetti! Spaghetti!"
They all shouted in chorus
and then they all laughed
and a butler made half of
giraffe bought wines
to the table out stretching his limbs to fill each space,
a few bottles of champagne
a cork whizzes through the air and hits a face
a drum and melodic rattle snake sound
and then the guest had fallen down
and fell apart
and the rest of the guests
realized they had no chests
and fell apart too.
It was time for the butler to tidy everything away again.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
Shadowed moments,
A rush of after bubbles
Whisper-weep a name
Leg wrapped warmth;
Tied down in pearls,
Burning me in the curl
Of satin sheets and tumbled pillows,
And I am stripped bare, across the cradle of dreams
Captured by pulsating fingertips
Fire-staining my thighs...
Shimmering diamond cascades of gentle stir
Fire-Wrap the mist of soft braille
Etching the moan of whispered yearn
Touch-tasting my moon kissed nape;
And I sway to the music of buffeting winds
My hips enticing, enveloping, ensnaring rigid muscle,
Lifting the hem
For teasing fingertips, searing drenched skin, and
Brazen ache meets incessant hunger...
Skin ravaged, blood pulsing...
His breath a rushing kiss between my legs
Piercing my darkness with his heat,
And licks, sweet, the tenderness I open;
This red haze of dry hours
Bathing my skin,
Sheathed behind smiles in dark corners of his eyes,
Unlaboured lust entwines trembling lips
Limbs awakening to thirst for honeyed-sin
My sigh drapes the curvature of his milky sway
Desire's swallow drowns my satin burn...
The immortality of our kiss
Etched in the warmth of garnet's gleam
Lingering upon the smoothness of softly wet;
The fragile lace binds my body, risen from rows of indigo roses,
Sequestered,
Shuttered, its heat like a leash in his palm, wrapped,
Effortlessly;
Surrendering to nuance and caress
Heartbeats
Flailing the drum-skin;
His reaching arms hold me down...
Heartbeat slowing
From the thunder of our storm,
Along my body, his braille
In gooseflesh fabrics and amber
Tambourines of skin seep,
Bind me in deepest velvet, resonating bliss...
A refuge where I curl in trembled release
Buried in purrs
Stained in screams;
Unforgettable moments
Melted in the whimper of love's breath..............
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 7:49 PM UTC
i.
Iwis, in the overt eye's,
Her, mine Jane; ii.
I'll lionize. Erelong, the psalmody
Of courting gesture;
A consort's
diadem,
Meet
for
Treasures.
iii.
Tambourines shaketh
Whilst sistrum's
Jangle; horn's
And pipes
In the melody
Tangle.
iv.
Sitar and harp peal,
Shofar's explode
The comet's; un-
earthed by seven
seal's, reeling in
Renewal and
birth's of one
mindset.
v.
Free will is chosen,
though by Yahweh
abideth we; unclad
to the human fad,
In love- O' blessed
To be.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( pookie dedication)
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC
~~~~
Chill electronics
Fervours me forth
From the frost mornings
Over crushed relations
Over the lost margins
Across the horisons
Ending heated desserts
Alienated from lonsome cries
We travel on the cloud called ninth
Of a everydays man turmoils
Turning into naught
Becoming a hoop
Around allured
Swell membrane
Top to bottom
Willing to
Play
Anatomy
Works with
the lucrative
Vibrations
My elation
Our abdomination
Each pace on the drum
Is a hollow awareness
Is a primal bite
Into a predestined
Prerogative ~ the
Love's ethnicity
Till ambushed silk
cotton
Tambourines
Start to jingle
Floral essences
Burst
Into
Dark curls
Azam Magnetic Magma
Charming one thousand
And one
Free from misery
Mystery Nights
Equanimity
Oriental
Ambiental Ali
Opened space
Spell~bounded
Sounds Alluring Affirmity
The woman's
Darkling alto
Swims into me
Dear saphir's lean
voice
Permeates into me
~~~~
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
Night #1
Around the dinner table crickets directed a noiseless choir
It's all full of emotion
But I don't know how to
Define a face full of
earthquake expressions
When the stars play guitar
with three broken strings
it sounds like musical genius,
and the grass is waving to it.
"Dude, the moon's coming out now,"
I hear from the crowd.
The autumn brown leaf outside the window
turns green in amazement
And then it swallows the sky whole.
Night #2
I don't even feel my drunkness, I just feel the
highness and euphoria.
I wonder who sees Orion with me tonight.
The triple XXXs behind the drummer and
ringing tambourines scream with
guitar picks and microphones
and I think I know this euphoria is more
powerful than the whisky in my right hand.
I'm the king of upside down guitars that read
"DEATHBOT," and the "B" is backwards
and I don't give a ****
Night #3
Arnold Palmer and coconut juice
A pair of glasses and a sight that's obtuse
I don't need to see straight
like a wave in the ocean that capsizes at night
And I roll up a joint that is beyond precise.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
Rhythmic beats,
Rain drops fall.
-listen to them all
Steady in pace,
Not missing a sound
Hitting my roof,
Hitting the ground.
Wind like an orchestra,
Howls from the side.
Rain crashing on my window
Like hitting a cowbells side.
Trees shaking,
As drops hit their leaves.
Making beautiful tones,
Sounds of tambourines.
Rhythmic sounds peacefully there
Painting pictures as I sleep,
All night I could stare.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:49 AM UTC
August rain
Turning into a light drizzle
Clouds tapping their tambourines
How nature puts on
Her magnificent show
Splashing her true colors
All that she knows
Orange, red, green and gold
A dash of royal purple and some indigo
Well, she knows
How to swing
Her bright lamp
Through all
The prefect seasons
I'm sure and still are
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 1:21 AM UTC
If at once we were something, we were a song
A glowing tarantella bouncing around,
Blazing tambourines grasped with gypsy fingers
Without dismay,
Free to see the world
The way God created it
With all its great beauty
And all the great cracks in the Earth,
We dance we dance to crack the Earth
Our song did touch the core.
If now we are something, we are lingering,
We drowned in our tears trapped in an hourglass,
The sand sapping away any life and now
Hardened black mud,
The hopelessness stuck
Along with the grains and tears
Trapped much like a gypsy
And like the gypsy we may dance
But its sloppy and stiff, no life,
Our song did touch before.
Now our song and dance vanished
Settling in a nice grave,
We lay in our hourglass
Still in our bridal garments
Staring at each other from the other side
Wondering who will drown first.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC
I carried love like loose change
tucked in the backs of my pocket,
clattering like cheerful tambourines,
evident with every
exuberant swing of my hip
and ready to be given
in the right amounts
with no expectation of anything
extra in return
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
In tall pines and
night storms
when we were
close
to over
& hiking with
my long hair
down
in frantic search
of clovers
in our dancing,
& tambourines,
your whiskey drinking
sober -
You live as a
memory
in
perpetual
October.
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC
shattering glass in the midnight bonfires
flaring purple with the fumes of tin cans and bottle caps.
and with barefeet we were called to run
naked underneath the moon
and howl at the trees;
to walk in packs of hallucinating lunatics
and to reach peaks of mountains where my brothers and sisters
claimed to have found God.
we're the ones that swagger on the sidepath,
sleep in gutters with notebooks and easels
and charcoal. water colours. badly tuned guitars,
rusted tambourines and guttural voices charred by
a thousand cigarette butts,
loosely rolled joints
and handfuls of various powders;
some luxurious and some downright filthy.
we sleep in forests or on drug dealers floors,
we love like feral animals,
and we dream like cats,
drink like fish,
fly like moths
and drown, drown, drown like sand.
but we refuse to wear a life-vest.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
.
*Here on the night before yesterday’s dream
Twilight composers retreat
Laughing at whispers a’ flow on the stream
Happily taking a seat
Practicing meadowlark lyrics to sing
Strumming a toadstool in tune
Awaiting the light that the fireflies bring
Blinking a wink at the moon
Tulips with tambourines gather around
Spider web chandeliers glow
Shade tree sonatas, a wonderful sound
Echoing up from below
Pine cone recitals and blueberry sighs
Star dust ovations in rhyme
Choruses sung beneath velveteen skies
Harmonic three quarter time
Orchestral canopies glisten above
Melodic rainbows the view
Performing songs written solely of love
Played on this evening for you*
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC