Gypsy dance

The skies moved with the light
interspersed with indigo haze
as if a gypsy dancer lingered
beside a fire lit from within,
moving back and forth
calling out in thunder
it’s voice profound and loud,
vibration activated the beat
of a heart sitting by like a wallflower,
join in the dance it seemed to echo
and as we stood in awe and wonder
watching the play
between dark and light,
consumed in its breath of passion,
we lit the moment up
and joined the fray
no longer afraid
to stand and become one
with the coming storm.

Beautiful image found from flickr on internet.

This life….

The air hangs heavy,
falling with the turning of the fan above,
round and round slow motion
the breeze not cooled,
just moving the invisible space
that surrounds.
Soft music drifts from the kitchen,
the everyday notes of pots and pans
cling and clang
drowning out the old voice from yesterday
crooning there goes his everything.
What is the everything that would go I wonder,
as my skin sits moist with the humid air
and the jasmine that waves like a million hands
back and forth swaying
like a concert waiting to start,
the skies restless as the front moves.
We sit charging devices,
thoughts run amok aimlessly wondering
at the words that come,
and voices change tone
’cause ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,
but I look beyond the doors
seeing no sunshine so it must be quite right,
and the stack of images sits on the table waiting
for the right day,
the right time to move on.
Gotta let it go,
feel the cleansing of the coming rain
in my mind before it exists above me,
I can feel it
washing away the endless thoughts
that hang like clouds
waiting for release.
Just another moment in this life observed
through song and elements
of the universe.

 

Image found on Pixabay.

Written

What were they? Those words written
quiet and sloping on gentle waters
moving endlessly
in their back and forth tides,
an homage to the hanging sliver moon that rested high
cradled in the clouds?
The solitary bird flew into the distant sky unaware,
for me, his quest to be an image unforgotten.
I plucked a single feather
and dipped it in the darkest water,
ink of the world of blue.
The words flowed fast
furiously splayed out with drops,
endless supply abound,
I had an inkwell of salted wetness before me
and I wrote more and more as if in a fever of need,
as thoughts filled in like a tsunami,
the prior vacancy filling up
from the cobwebbed corners to the roof,
spaces were filled to overflowing
these words came forth frantically,
and I stopped for only a moment
as my toes sunk deep in the sand
and the waves eased their movement
perhaps waiting for the next words to fall,
and I know not what was written
for the clouds obscured the light
and I searched for the sentences
for from below and within me
places where a thousand feelings reside,
they spilled their silent secrets out,
emptying the trough that had been so full.
A solitary wave moved against my feet
erasing the moment
and slipping away in the madness,
the memory was lost.
The bird flew from view
as night called my name,
I turned and walked away
forgetful of the sentences
that had brought me here.

Thoughts on a dream I had last night.