Rhythm

July 8, 2016

THE RHYTHM OF HEARTS

The Hummingbird trolls
looking for the sweet taste
of nectar

the vibration
of its’ beating wings
keeping rhythm with
its’ beating heart

a group of Piping Plovers
walk quickly in unison
across the sand’s surface

their nervous movement
hurried and rapid as
a flash of light
a wave crashing
on the shore

creatures reminding me
of my own beating heart
that nearly betrayed

given a chance to beat again
keeping time with each step
so I can once again see
a Hummingbird and the Plover

Image Taken From Morgue File Digitized by Myself

Beating Hearts

August 26, 2013August 26, 2013

The Notes Embrace You

Google Image

i see you dancing
on the floor of the
pizza parlor
a smile playing
across your face

where every note
that is pumped
out of the theatre
pipe organ
embraces you

plys your feet
with rhythm
only you would know
caring not that
eyes are watching

i see you even though
you are gone now
a memory that
spilled out of
the letter you wrote

April 18, 2012April 18, 2012

Isolated Minds

Fragile lives held in the
shifting sands of time
shimmering like star dust
pulsating isolated minds

spilling forth contents a
miasma screaming host in
silence with unseeing eyes
torrential rhythms boast

collapsing upon all mediocrity
seemless beings rent sighing
albeit closed escapade murmurs
a stage sets new life rising

November 25, 2011November 25, 2011

Musical notes wrap themselves
around her like charms on a
bracelet touching her skin
B Flats, C Sharps, staccato
dancing lightly tapping out
rhythms on her silvery hair

Ivory keys fill the spaces
between now and then when her
fingertips drew out singing
loft choirs yet teaching a
soloist the uniqueness in
using a voice as instrument

Images fleeting now seen but
dimly as through the clouded
lens of a camera losing it’s
battle to store more images in
memory’s photographic pages
holding lyrics of song books

Musical notes wrap themselves
around her like charms on a
bracelet touching her skin
B Flats, C Sharps, staccato
dancing lightly tapping out
rhythms on her silvery hair

Upon posting the quote from Helen Keller it gave me pause to remember a most loved pianist and organist whose love and passion for music helped me to understand that not all voices are the same and the uniqueness of some is a gift. Some of us, at times, do stand alone. This is dedicated to Dorothy, who after years of dedication to playing for church choirs and soloists lost her sight and could no longer play but only listen to the music she loved.