dance

Springs Song and Dance

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Here is comes!
The Overture!
Winter ice melts away
Runs in rivulets of water
Puddles reflect a silver sun
Splattered light, all a-dazzle

The snowdrop rings a tiny bell
Listen close
It bows its head
With tender grace
In sweet sonata
Shy performer on life’s stage

The crocus come
Gentle choral
Adding colour
Bringing warmth
The trees burst forth in emerald bud
Birds fly in from warmer climes
All sleeping creatures come awake
All is chatter, all is bustle
Adding to the seasons song

In the garden
Daffodils march in
Blaring trumpets
Yellow chalice
Golden gongs
Gilly-flowers join the dance
Forsythia, Hyacinth,
Frezia, Lilac, Helleborus
Cornucopia of scent

Blue bell carpets in the forest
Where the shade is damp and dense
All the worlds a jubilation
Sung forth from the blackbirds throat
Bringing joy to the morning
Making all our spirits rise
Flying upward with the birds
To the bright cerulean sky

Widdershins

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Dance widdershins

To enter the land of Faerie.

Every turn on the journey,

From the Oak to the hearth,

Is widdershins

 

If your milk turns sour

Don’t be so sure that the date has expired

Make restoration with sweet gifts at you door

Never undervalue the  unseen

Turn all the angles, dance widdershins

 

The gate may be by your own front door

And the path that turns and twines in the wood

Follow the soft breeze at dusk

And the owls hoot

Faced with a choice,  turn widdershins

 

That sound at your window at night

Isnt a twig, tap tap tapping

It’s a small finger and a flutter of wings

Don’t be deluded

Turn in your bed, widdershins

 

 

 

 

 

 

Berries

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

looking out of my winter window
to ice cold streets below
i see huddled figures
trudging through the snow

the children skip faster in winter
that’s what we all should do
imagine the shopping centre
full of skipping people

then christmas shopping would be
a dance of joy so merry
flocks of people like robins
seeking the shining red berries

Tomorrow – a rubaiyat

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The stars of the heavens are clear and bright.
I stand here alone, looking up tonight.
The song of the nightingale fills my heart
Ecstatic soloist, brings sweet delight

A softened light shines from the crescent moon,
At dawn it lips the ocean in a swoon.
All night I watched awake, we are apart.
The treasured morning cannot come to soon.

The scent of roses fills the dawning air
As I walk out in peace without a care
Amidst this new-born darling of a day
Where all the fields are newly fresh and fair.

You bring a smile, a word, a tender glance.
Tomorrow’s here and all the world’s a dance.
The sky is blue, the clouds have cleared away
And I am dreaming in a golden trance

The Queen of the Greenwood (a Corona)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

i sit by the fire in the woodland
all is peace, gentle, quiet, dear,
yet my heart rises to my throat
rises like a spring, a songbird
wings beating, bursting
the well is deep, the moment fleeting
my pulse like water singing
drumming, humming
all fades away on the breeze
even as its golden light glows
shining out in the darkness
known, yet unknown.

home is her, and now.
it comes, it goes, the rose

it comes, it goes, the rose
the wild rose of the woodland
i run, trying to reach it
eagerness grasps only thorns
no perfume, no tender pink heart
better admired where it grows
soft petals shine out in the dark
dark trees loom all around
lost or found it blooms there
where is she in all i seek
she who holds the rose
why does she always leave

turning always to look back at me
she comes, she goes, holding the rose

she comes, she goes, holding the rose
i saw her up on the green hill
weaving in and out of the dance
i bow to her and take her hand
spin her, never win her
that wild, unruly, so gentle glance
as she turns and runs away
always looking back at me
always a footfall further
she haunts me still, never stays
she of the hill and the greenwood
where the paths all lead inward

deeper and ever deeper
into the wood i travel, willingly

into the wood i travel, willingly
this forest so wide and vast
these paths turn on fortunes wheel
darkness and light
all things future, all things past
shadows and clearings
silence and voices
a harp song on the wind
flute and owl hoot
the flash of a birds wing
in the night
i follow the ravens flight

i follow the Raven to the Tower
the gate is locked and barred

the gate is locked and barred
all is empty here
a hollow echo from before
i will not venture in
i stand and feel no fear
the Tower crumbles all to dust
i lay down my ancient sword
my armour turns to rust
my horse is faithful still
i trust to him and the Raven
i will follow his path
it is my own at last

all travellers have a quest
we ride on, finding the way

we ride on to once upon a time
over the hills and far away
where all paths twist back on themselves
always to the greenwood
the distant rainbows end
the treasure at its heart
the place where the rose unfolds
i dream amongst the trees
unafraid of any foe
guarded by a wall of thorns
protected in her circling arms
where all my dreams come true

i will travel on with her
wherever she may go

wherever she goes i will go
i follow in the dance
my pulse like water singing
she of the hill and the greenwood
queen of the shadows and clearings
my armour gleams again
i will be her hero
until my breath gives out
guarded by twisted paths
we rest in peace, with the rose
over the hills and far away
where time will never end

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a Corona is a series of sonnets strung together by the repetition of a line