Tag Archives: dance

THANKS GIVING

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

It is good to be thankful.

It is good to be free.

It is good to hope 

and dance so merrily.

It is good to be thankful.

It is good if we can see

it is good to keep trying

to save our beloved country.

It is good to be thankful.

It is good for more than me.

It is good for every “other”

who turns I into we.

It is good to be thankful.

But I want so much more.

I want each of us to lift 

the light beside an open door.

I want each of us to hold and defend

our sacred declared text and constitution.

I want each of us to pledge

we will begin again

and set aside fearful pride

alongside those who deny

the Rule of Law and all it means,

as it loss threatens the safety

of ourselves, and every sister and brother.

I want each of us to vote the bums out.

I want each of us to cry freedom and shout

“We ain’t buying it !” 

to all those who sold us out

so they alone can dance merrily in a ballroom

built on East Wing destruction,

giving in to autocrats’ seduction.

It is good to be thankful.

It is good to be free.

But, only if we all can be

and only if we all 

can dance so merrily.

Too many did not think this is how it would be.

They ignored the liberal thinkers they deplore,

and wholeheartedly ignored

the warnings and pleas to face reality.

Instead, they refused to see,

they refused to look into the mirror

of their own racist, sexist depravity.

It was easier to look away.

They knew they would not like

what they would see.

They felt affirmed and at their ease.

But only for a moment.

Now, this is where we are, but need not be.

It is good to be thankful.

It is good to stay free.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

AMERICA DANCING TO MAGA-TIME

Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com

The ballerina pirouettes.

Round and round she goes.

Her satin slippers turn endlessly

as she balances on her toes.

Dizzying it would certainly be

to spin so unnecessarily.

But, she uses a trick she very well knows.

She picks a single point in sight

and holds her focus on that point, so tight.

She keeps her balance and dances on,

steady as the graceful dancer we all know.

And when the music ends

as every song must

she takes her bow and we all cheer.

America is well and still on her feet,

avoiding the fall we all feared.

America shall dance again

as soon as the new song begins.

Voters shall pick a tune they enjoy,

one that cares for every girl and boy,

for every color, race and creed,

for laborers and workers, rather than greed.

The Land of the free.The home of the brave.

The audience of those who refused to cave.

Ballerinas keep their eyes on the prize.

Focus and keep dancing: a word to the wise.

Keep dancing to your own true beat.

Stay focused and stay on your feet.

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FORTUNE TELLERS

Photo by Davyd Bortnik on Pexels.com

Squirrels dance with abandon

to circadian rhythm

leaving behind all restraint,

and stashes of seeds and nuts

in unlikely places which

I shall discover in Spring.

Like gypsy fortune tellers

they scamper from one customer

to another predicting what is to come.

The plants seem to listen 

afraid not to learn their fate.

They wilt a bit and lose color

as their fortune unfolds.

Their worst fears make them bold.

They bloom twice as many flowers.

They turn every flower head to seed.

They will not be caught unaware

of warnings gypsy squirrels have brought.

Perhaps, their glory will fade.

But, all will not be lost.

The squirrels promise new life will appear

in old and new plots.

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BEES

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Bees have taken over the garden.

their liveliness competes

with slovenly flight of flies,

flies that bite, mercilessly.

Bees never sting me.

They simply move aside

as I weed and prune.

Then move back into the space

I have vacated.

We dance together

in harmony, the bees and I.

There is no waltzing with flies.

I perform a jig

to avoid their biting touch.

I love the bees.

The flies? Not so much.

Photo by Johann Piber on Pexels.com

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LAST DANCE

The young believe the aged

are forced to live isolated lives

because of aching bones

and wilting blood and sinew.

But, this is not totally true.

As time shortens our pace

and length of our dance

we choose our partners

more wisely, with more patience

and with more grace.

We make each moment count,

and leave less likeable partners out.

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BIRD BATH BEAT

Photo by Mason McCall on Pexels.com

Spirited sparrows and wrens so dull and drab

mingle with cardinals beautifully clad.

Sultry robin pulls closed her robe

leaving her breasts cleverly exposed.

Flicker rounds on the oldest tree 

and begins a steady beat.

Sweet arias of birdsong lift to compete,

their voices familiar and strong

while mourning doves amble along,

chaperones staying and swaying in step.

Listening and watching such beauty I wept.

Each bird’s note has a place in the chorus

of avian talent displayed before us. 

Each wing and beak in flighty choreography

tells a breathtaking story of bird glory.

Insects hiding beneath dark-dank spaces

have no chance amidst such diving graces.

The sun arises each morn as do I

to enjoy their dance before birds take to the sky.

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THE LAST DANCE

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

When does thought supersede Being?

When the heart’s speed deviates

from Rhythm’s universal beat

which sets the pace of Space

with certain duration and periodic stress.

We think we know best

and reset Rhythm  and increase stress.

Too soon upset Rhythm brings cessation

instead of renewable creation.

Wind warns us in no uncertain terms

as she increases the beat of her storms.

With greater force Wind pounds her beat

against every shore, her reverberation so strong

Wind pulls Ocean up and along

where Wind’s new beat covers the skies

with Oceans cries, drowning our own.

The rhythm of Being streams in downloaded scenes

of mountains buckling under Tempo’s fall

while Desert spreads where Tree once danced

in the stately rhythm of ages past.

Discordant sound is now all around.

Too many simply turn up the sound.

After the last dance who will there still Be

to turn the lights back on so we can see?

When does thought supersede greed?

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INTROVERTS

HIDING IN THE SPOTLIGHT, acrylic on canvass, Louise Annarino, 11/22/2022

Hiding in the spotlight

living out of sight

is a graceful dance

blocking the view

of the true you.

Light on your feet,

light dancing your own beat,

light blinding the audience’s eyes

to every flaw

no one ever saw,

except for you.

Hiding in the spotlight

is the safest place to be

on the stage,

where life plays out. 

The place to dance for those 

who give a performance 

brave and strong and true.

I applaud you.

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HAIKU

Photo by Pelageia Zelenina on Pexels.com

Dancing among trees

leaves drifting below my knees

breeze lifting my feet.

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LIFT EVERY VOICE

Photo by Grigoriy on Pexels.com

Is it the nightingale

whose song we hear

as day turns to night

and weakens us with fright?

Or the lark whose sweet song

drifts upon the rising dawn

announcing a new day has begun?

Together, they make music

and fill our world with song

that we may dance,

in graceful strides forward,

to encourage and make us strong.

Lift every voice and sing.

It is time to sing along.

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