Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts

Saturday, August 24, 2019

082419c


A lune rengay, perhaps we should call it a lune-gay


under the full moon
at the dance,
challenged, he bristled

the gatecrashers pushed him hard
a wild punch struck his date's face

shredding the white dress
she transformed
who knew they were real

growling was enough
the boys fled
leaving small puddles

the photographs showed two wolves
shreds of fabric in their fur

tangled in morning
venison
on their human tongues


Definition: consists of six stanzas with the following line lengths in syllables:

5-3-5
7-7
5-3-5
5-3-5
7-7
5-3-5

Each three-line stanza should have two lines that are directly connected to one another, separated by a break from the third line, as in traditional haiku. Should have something to do with the moon, or moons, or satellites in the broadest sense. Modeled on the well-known rengay form.

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

082119b


only the moon brings
transparent
beauty to your face

among the cold graves
none so dear
as yours is to me

tear yourself away
from dances
without care or end

hold me in your arms
in moonlight
one more time tonight

Monday, April 22, 2019

042219b


sure
tickling the giant's feet
seemed like a good idea
alas
giants can't dance
at least, not well

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

090517



Princess Tulip Ariel Jade*

* One of my daughters briefly changed her name to this.



Tulip Ariel Jade, called by her subjects “Sue,” had been sent to bed without her supper. Again.

“And it's totally not fair,” she said to herself, flopping down as hard as she could on the bed. The covers flopped up at the sides with satisfying vigor. So she did it again. And again, and again, and again, till a voice said "Stop!"
Lying across the bed, sheet rippled and ridged around her, Tulip froze. Silence settled over the room. Then she thought she heard a very soft scrape. She wriggled forward and flopped her head down to look under the bed, upside down, hair puddling on the floor and dust in her nose.
Dust bunnies. A Brat doll she'd been missing. And little people, all dressed up, dancing like in the old movies Mom liked. Dancing to no music.
The ladies wore frilly dresses that made bells around their legs, mostly in pastel colors. The men wore black suits that went well with the dresses. The people were all about 3 inches tall. They ignored her while she watched them, her face prickling as the blood pooled in her head. Finally she had had enough.
"Hey!" They kept on dancing. "I'm learning to dance," she said. "Ballet. Ms Michiko is very nice. She's from Houston."
Just then Tulip fell off the bed. "That didn't hurt," she announced. One of the ladies beckoned to her and smiled. Tulip had been wanting to join them, so she ran under the bed. The lady was just a little taller than Tulip.
"My name is Lady Parimore," the dancer said. "And you?" She raised one eyebrow (Tulip had once tried for a week to learn how to do that).
They let her join the dance. One of the gentlemen didn't have a partner, and he taught her the steps. He was very handsome and just her height, with black hair, green eyes, and a smile on one side of his mouth, like Uncle Rudy. He said his name was Mr. Pin. He wore a black suit, a ruffled white shirt, and a pink bowtie that matched her dress. The other men's bowties matched their partners' dresses too. And now there was music. She flew through dance after dance. It was wonderful.
At last the dancing was over. Mr. Pin whispered in her ear: "Come with us."
"Really?"
He nodded.
"But what about my things?"
"You'll have new things, even better ones," said Lady Parimore.
"Will I be a princess?"
"Oh, yes," Mr. Pin said.


Publ. Daily Cabal 2009

Sunday, January 1, 2017

010117c



Arbor Day Dance Recital

At its most frenetic,
tree dance is glacial;
a recital lasts 30 days or more.
It’s graceful, powerful;
at the height of passion
they shimmy, if you like.
The art is “moving,” I’m sure,
but I can’t stay awake
to the end of a single piece,
so I’ll never know:
what does it all mean?