(no subject)
*The Dance Eternal*
the big band plays on
man hand-in-hand with mate, two-stepping in time
where they find love heart-to-heart
and plan on blind certainty their continuation
forgetting that what starts, must end
the big band plays on
regardless of who is on the floor, twirling and prancing about
the musicians heed naught, save the spirals of one lithe muse
Eternity, in her fickle fleetness, waltzes the rhythms of sweet time's travels
in-and-out, winding throughout the multitude of masked masqueraders
cloaked each within shrouded lives
existing only for themselves and one another
and most are lost to the deafening beat of death's great drum
or seduced slyly by Eternity’s slow swaying serendipity
the heady music of life sliding across her curves silkily, caressing each gentle swell
with a lingering and loving touch, as a satin slip does on a sultry summer night
the big band plays on
as a danseuse and danseur’s time grows small, minutes linger into hours
though each second strikes staccato and melts away discordant
they entwine and swirl faster against the tempo
each note largo, and finally Her single voice is raised in a siren’s call
bringing to an end what the dancers had begun
man's eyes are raised from parquet to platform
from mistress to Maestro
and they behold their pattern's purpose
too late to dance another step
leaving their hearts, their love, as their dance's last testament
((This piece of poetry is copyrighted and can only be reprinted with written permission by the author, which is cyrano517.))
Not my best work, but hey, its here for you to enjoy or hate.
the big band plays on
man hand-in-hand with mate, two-stepping in time
where they find love heart-to-heart
and plan on blind certainty their continuation
forgetting that what starts, must end
the big band plays on
regardless of who is on the floor, twirling and prancing about
the musicians heed naught, save the spirals of one lithe muse
Eternity, in her fickle fleetness, waltzes the rhythms of sweet time's travels
in-and-out, winding throughout the multitude of masked masqueraders
cloaked each within shrouded lives
existing only for themselves and one another
and most are lost to the deafening beat of death's great drum
or seduced slyly by Eternity’s slow swaying serendipity
the heady music of life sliding across her curves silkily, caressing each gentle swell
with a lingering and loving touch, as a satin slip does on a sultry summer night
the big band plays on
as a danseuse and danseur’s time grows small, minutes linger into hours
though each second strikes staccato and melts away discordant
they entwine and swirl faster against the tempo
each note largo, and finally Her single voice is raised in a siren’s call
bringing to an end what the dancers had begun
man's eyes are raised from parquet to platform
from mistress to Maestro
and they behold their pattern's purpose
too late to dance another step
leaving their hearts, their love, as their dance's last testament
((This piece of poetry is copyrighted and can only be reprinted with written permission by the author, which is cyrano517.))
Not my best work, but hey, its here for you to enjoy or hate.