Brocade~

Brocade

alterations

nimble vivacity

plucking threads. . . .

diminutive ballerina in a music box

frayed shoes spinning off-key

tilting toward woman hands

stretching coiled springs

for stability

inside memories committed

to the wind up key  

as the birdies have all flown

the fairy coop

in disdain

of latch hooks

and thousand piece puzzles

applying instead

lissome fingertips

to pressing thousands of letters

into moments

culling apps and downloads

leaving pigtail imprints

telltale neon impressions

on a canvas of holographic lives

so delicate

and see through

collecting dust

at the bottom of a music box. . . .

little mother

lights

unobtrusive incense

curls of pure thought

in smoke;

tear ducts open on a river

ballerina spins

through ripples of water

 

 

copyright:2011vssmd/PAinc.

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

excerpt from

 

 

 

Reviews

[Lachenille Papillion]

Your hands were taught the telling of the tales from birth, and they have done it in many forms of art over the years, yes with thread, with the playing of musical instruments, with the rearing of children, with the stillness of meditation, with the pen, the keyboard, and the gateway of the virtual world as well as the dimensions of time and space, always driven forward by the expanse of your mind across the universe, across humanity, across your soul...
You've been here in so many roles, drenched in so many lifetimes, that I often wonder how you don't grow weary of creating the beauty from the depth of less than nothingness so often.
The imagery comes to life here, the music box on the mantle of my mind's eye, but like all your greatest pieces... I see within it... you~
in colors the world has yet to define...

[OT]

I've read a few poems today that remind me why I still bother to come onto this site - and this is another!! as always your descriptions are so full of life and creativity - "culling apps and downloads
leaving pigtail imprints
telltale neon impressions" - the way you've delved into a whole load of ideas - the modern and old - and pigtail imprints? what a line!! brilliant!!

[Jasmine]

there's something of a distant memory in this, i feel... the blurred imagery of a ballerina twirling plastic-ly in a music box, hits a twinkling, melodic chord...you're imagery is always so unusually and intriguingly constructed, with fluidly expressed ideas hiding somehwere underneath.
p.s. thank you for you review (yay, you know music!)

[Jibey]

The imagery leaps and ducks like a rushing brook, throwing up sparkling moments and never stopping to look back...

[Robin]

you know the dance and the music ~ the inextricable weave of emotion and movement ~

[FireWoman]

This strikes the chord of how fickle time is. Time skitters about and drags as we wish we could grow up. When we are grown, we lean in towards the innocence and pure love we had as we look through our box of treasures kept. (Whether they are palatable to touch or just a memory.

[Maurice]

Your words give new meaning to the ballerina on the music box. Splendid poem

[.]

often wonder about all those secrets the little ballerina keeps in the music box..there is something magical about them and the memories they hold..

[Dream Weaver]

This reads like a raised fabric as in your "title" only
spun from golden words you stitched into this
poetic muse of a piece…Lovely work Ms. Selene
May you twirl in a dance of fulfillment :)

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

It has such an air of loss and longing about it. The little ballerina dancing, reaching and locking away moments of innocence lost to this modern and cold world. Fantastically well done as always =D