Late-night revelry

After the great departure
When only the true remain
Seeking sprinklers for rain,
All dots bisected by a plane
And dancing in green pasture.

Suddenly the hills grow quiet;
Self-consciousnous prevails:
Drooping heads, leg-hidden tails,
The humid night breathes in–exhales,
We blow inside, dare not defy it.

Yet once more the impulse lingers
Stirred beneath our solemn faces,
Joy in all the hidden spaces:
Spine tingles, mind jingles, heart races
Blood to move our languid fingers.

Kill the lights and birth the sounds,
First dance slow eyes closed from shyness–
Awkward moves like Lucy, Linus,
No Dancing Queen, no Your Highness,
Yet eventually we lose our bounds.

The other silhouettes melt away;
My moves grow bolder, bigger, better–
No critiquing chain, no failure fetter.
The room grows hot, our skin grows wetter
From exertion in this dance melee.

The hour grows late and our home beckons;
Mother and father surely wait
At the figurative garden gate
To assess our sorry state–
I can only beg for seconds.


18 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Jingle
    Jun 20, 2011 @ 15:19:13

    stunning view in your words.

    well done.



  2. Cindy Eksuzian
    Jun 21, 2011 @ 06:37:42

    This poem has timeless beauty beyond words. Cindy


  3. Leonargo
    Jun 21, 2011 @ 19:55:43

    I beg for seconds too! 🙂 🙂 🙂 Wonderful write! You revelry is fantastic!


  4. Jingle
    Jun 21, 2011 @ 22:41:00

    make 18 comments, let us know after you are done.



  5. elainedanforth
    Jun 21, 2011 @ 22:49:43

    I love the flavor of this. Its grandness. Because the language at the beginning practically suggests the end of the world, I did not really see that your poem appears to be about a teenage dance until the end.

    I love the image of mother and father by the garden gate as a closing to the oh-so-meaningful, though normal part of life experience.


    • wordcoaster
      Jun 22, 2011 @ 09:38:33

      Thank you so much! I never even thought about the “end of the world” tone that is oh-so- apparent in that first stanza. Sometimes, though, life-experiences take on this other-worldly feel–which is somewhat what was happening here. I also liked that image: a warm close to a smiling memory.


  6. tinkerbel1987
    Jun 22, 2011 @ 10:17:39

    Lovely imagery here 🙂


  7. mindlovemisery
    Jun 22, 2011 @ 11:18:27

    “Yet once more the impulse lingers

    Stirred beneath our solemn faces

    Joy in all the hidden spaces

    Spine tingles, mind jingles, heart races

    Blood to move our languid fingers” Love love this stanza Fabulous job!


  8. Jeanie McBain
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 07:51:45

    Excellent poem and visually effective 🙂 good work


  9. Mike Patrick
    Jul 27, 2011 @ 18:16:54

    Neat rhyme scheme with more and more powerful lines. It’s fun watching you grow.


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