I just felt like being Goofy tonight !!!
Archive for July 2012
A heavy, clammy calm has bestilled the sultry air. Clouds, midnight black, steal the light of the sun and erase the azure blue sky. Turbulent, rolling, gray clouds underlie the black and race forward like a wild stampede. Onward comes the storm. White hot flashes of lightning lace the clouds and reach to savage the earth. A slight hint of a breeze picks up, disturbing the resting leaves on the trees. It is followed by raindrops as big as tea cups and then wind with the vicious strength of a hurricaine lashing all with unrelenting horizontal rain. Then, as quickly as it approached, the storm passes and is gone, leaving in its wake brilliant sun and the gift of a rainbow.
I must be a child of the storm, as I love to watch all of the storms violent strength, the wind, lightning, hail, and rain.
Violent…, but beautiful all the same
The House on the Hill
Lonely lives in haunted halls
Flaking, cracked and shattered walls
Warped and worn and dirty floors
Spidered windows and broken doors.
Empty rooms with closets bare
Filled with stagnant fetid air
Cabinets empty, filled with dust
Water gone, replaced with rust.
The house sits vacant on the hill
The sounds of life and laughter gone
Lighted by a weakened sun,
It moulders in the Autumn chill.
Once beautiful and filled with joy
The family’s happiness and pride
Stilled when as years had passed
All but the last of family died.
Now as I walk this lonely street
Rememb’ring happy times there shared
Greeting each memory that I meet
Now only the past lives there.
The old couple sat in the shade of Live Oaks and palm trees in the little park near the grand resorts along the beach. His hand found hers and they looked at each other with the knowing smiles learned from years of sharing, then turned their gaze back to the beach where high tide was slowly washing away the thousands of footprints left in the sand. It had been a ritual for years now, not every night, but often, coming here to watch the blazing beauty of the tropical sunset. There were a few lazy, fluffy clouds tonight so the view should be extraordinary.
“Well, sweet darlin’, are y’all goin’ to stay here, or would y’all come along to walk with me on the beach”?
“I’ll be comin’ with y’all, sweetheart. Don’t want y’all to be flirtin’ with those young girls down there”, she replied with a chuckle.
Reaching the beach, they shed their sandals and left them in the seagrass along the walkway as they had done for years. The two had become somewhat a fixture along this little stretch of shoreline, first name familiar with almost everyone, even some of the tourists who returned every summer. The soft, warm, white sand caressed their feet as they made their way along their usual route. They were about to pass a pier where some small yachts and sailboats were moored when he stopped.
“Anything wrong?” she asked.
“Nothin’ at all, darlin’, he replied, “Come along with me for a minute…”
He took her hand and led her to the bench at the end of the pier and they sat there, waiting for the sun, now low in the sky, to finally set. Then, with his arm around her, they made small talk for a while as the sinking sun painted the sky with color.
“Y’all remember this pier, darlin’ ?”
“Y’all think I could ever forget it, sweetness ?”
Then before she realized, he had slid to one knee in front of her and took her hand and kissed it.
“Honey, if we had it all to do over again….., marry me, darlin’ girl?”
She stopped him with a smile, “I’d do it over a million times, then maybe I’d get tired of y’all….., maybe…, but I doubt it.”
The red tropical sun had dropped below the horizon, leaving the sky in beautiful hues of red, orange, purple and pink as they walked back up the beach to dinner. Even after 50 years, little had changed for them since the first time they’d sat on that bench at the end of the pier, just the names on the boats.
Once Again I’d Die for This Dance
It began with a lullaby
To quiet and soothe
A disconsolate baby
So that he wouldn’t cry
The tunes became different
And the songs changed their words
From the soft and the sweet
As a baby he’d heard
He learned about music at school
The theory of rhythm and rhyme
That all written music must follow the rule
Of metre and musical time
Now older he listens to all of the songs
That are played on the radio station
And tries to find something to which he belongs
Then comes his first graduation
A young man now hears songs of romance
He looks at girls differently today
And thinks he’d like to ask them to dance
To the new kind of music that’s played
They step out on the floor
He takes her in his arms
He’s entranced by all of her charms
(They’re both so naive) but both want for more
She smiles as they float ‘cross the floor
The dance becomes love
So much more than a dance
They keep on moving in time
And what began as a dance
Ended up as romance
And the partners became so much more
Songs and lullabies, metre and rhyme
Rules for the melodies
And rules for romance
Looking for answers to life’s mysteries
Once again…, I’d die for this dance.
(Obviously the story doesn’t end here but I thought this a good place to stop)
In the shadows of a song
Past, present, and future laid
Music and verse now belong
To thoughts and feelings left unsaid.
Just a pencil sketch I did a while back, doodling in a small sketch book.