Showing posts with label ballad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ballad. Show all posts

Friday, August 23, 2019

August is a Ballerina...






August is a ballerina
Summer poised in arabesque
Prelude to September's Prima-
Donna's jazzy, bold burlesque 

August, sweet, sun-warm and mellow
Smooth as alto saxophone
Prelude to September's cello
And October's bass trombone

Janet~


 



Thursday, July 11, 2019

July's Choreographer...


 seven-syllable lines is not the norm 
but the Voice in my head insisted on this form!

Something simply needed to be written for this gem-of-a-July-day!
Wild, sultry winds toss luxuriant trees grounded in sweeps of green 
where subtle golden sheen starts seeping through.







Lilt of light strums gilt of gold
Beauty breaks birth’s virgin hold
From its mold of moment-mist
Ethereal tangos untwist
Torturing, teasing the heart
With fond fragments of love’s art
Driving dreamers gently mad
With the melody of Had
Where the ballad is a blur
…. July’s choreographer

Violinist’s serenade
Never sweeter timbre played
Runs a bow across the sky
Ruffles rows of corn and rye
Lofty, lithesome, sumptuous beat
Falling, light as pixie-feet
Soft as petals waft, sun-warm
Wild as wind before the storm
Wrestling from the restless tree
…July’s choreography

Vexes vim with wish and whim
Wakes a waltz in linden limb
Hails from pubs of hollyhock
Pales the hub that turns the clock
Hones the bones that stir the dust
Metronome of wanderlust
Whips the horse that hauls the cart
Hitched to lanyards round the heart
Causes quite a flower-stir
…July’s choreographer

Whispers in high, hazy noon
Tugs at twilight’s lazy moon
Plays a rousing burst of star
Makes us glad right where we are
Takes us by our hands and twirls
Wizened women like school girls
Searing, soothing, high then low
Tempo of hold-close-let-go
Soloist and symphony
…July’s choreography

© Janet Martin

Colm Keegan cover because Garth Brooks' version is not on Youtube...


Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Ballad Of Autumn Dusk



 OctPoWriMo day 20; topic Overwhelmed. Form; Ballad

Oft upon dusk’s daily dying
Thought is like a troubadour
Strumming the harp-strings of summer
Where sweet summer is no more

Like a vagabond he pauses
Face turned west on wind-tossed heath
Where Time dons dusk’s deep blue shadow
Thought attends its daily death

Refrain;
Tell me; tell me, cries the drifter
Where the ash of summer lies
But Thought cannot hear the answer
In the wind-waif’s weeping sighs

Stark against autumnal darkling
Still-life skylines slip from view
Earth is like an empty cradle
That a little lad outgrew

Soft, the balladeer of twilight
Runs his fingers, star-to-star
Somewhere between dusk and midnight
Life and death like warriors spar

Refrain;
Tell me, tell me, cries the wand’rer
Where the dust of summer sleeps
But thought cannot touch the answer
Where the wind-waif sighs and weeps

Thought is overcome with sorrow
Sorrow overrun with joy
Somewhere in some far tomorrow
Summer is a little boy

Somewhere the Artist of Autumn
Smooths Thought's tear with frost-sparked glaze
Overwhelming earth with splendor
Overwhelming Thought with praise

Refrain:
Tell me, tell me, cries the poet
Where the silk of summer fell
From a well of fond-felled flowers
Thought finds words wind-waifs can't spell   

© Janet Martin