Dancer’s Promenade
I believe, that some days, even brilliant colors of the most illustrious hues may seek to find inspiration.
Bedazzled notions wonder among fellow passengers, passionately reciting this voyage’s promenade. Humble travelers, mesmerized in contemplation, lost betwixt visions conjured by subtle, yet vibrant, apparitions of tomorrow’s alluring, promise, of uncertainty.
Adventurous musical notes of today stretch forward to embrace horizons of unrevealed destinies. Unexpectedly, instruments of magical serenation may come to a bewildered halt. Forgetful of pause, rooted securely in seemingly eternal moments.
The symphony’s delay, allows reflections of transcending unimaginable challenges and orchestrated accomplishments, promoting confidence over trepidation, illuminating resplendent sway over sorrow, to all grand chair's command.
Laughter and play in yesterday’s eternity, endure in collective consciousness, memorializing a gamboling attempt at erratically maintaining grace upon exquisitely, measured, beats.
With precariously decisive spontaneity, magnificent smiles traverse perfectly balanced staffs, detailed by well-versed hand, in a composition uniquely designed, to compliment an opus: guaranteed to challenge courageous dancers with wanderlust and determination to explore unrestrained motion.
A challenge mastered by the most graceful of dancers is to gain strength from the pain and anguish of yesterday, today, so to inspire under majestic colors, moving elegantly to entrancing melodies that offer glimpses of hope in tomorrow.
We are all but passengers on this voyage. A grand promenade; dancers, listing on visions of tomorrow. Chasing distractions of wonderful tones paired with the most beautiful colors.
It is the colors of her world, the security of her song, and the determination in her dance that is to inspire us all.
Enjoy the adventure of discovery, dance as often as you can, laugh when you can’t, find a smile every day - even if it is not yours, and remember to love, always.
Music Talks
We communicated through music, often lacking the words ourselves.
Well, it wasn’t the words we were lacking but the ability to trust them.
Words were lies. Huge stinking lies and we loved that about words.
When we needed to lie we used words. Simple things; or we didn’t.
Whatever we needed to hide could be found in moments we didn’t say.
Why we didn’t say sometimes came from the pains and trauma we knew.
Where did all those hidden truths go in the end? How do I trust again?
Music though, was our true form of communication. It couldn’t really lie.
Music when shared is a choice to share more than the words within.
Music is a story and often contained a tale we couldn’t tell to others.
Music holds the emotions that we would hide away; scared to share.
Music is how we communicated when words alone simply failed or hid.
Music is where we fell in love and how we expressed our feelings back then.
Music hides the vibrant parts of me. When will I start dancing to it again?
Image: Music is my Soul By miszasta
Our Woods
We walked for a while. That time we spent in our woods. The woods the world had forgotten. The woods we grew up in. We really didn’t have the words and both knew our twin flame was out of control again. Our strides eventually slowed and as we turned to face each other, we paused to survey our woods.
We paused, as it could be the last time we laid eyes on this place, the place no one knew, the place we first shared each other completely. Our woods were on fire, a raging inferno of swimming flames throwing bellows of smoke as high as the sky could manage to stretch overhead.
Our woods were on fire again.
That’s when our pause ended and you turned and walked away. You never looked back. You never did. I loved that about you. You were always strong enough to walk away when we needed it and never looked back. You walked hard and true away from us every time as confident as ever, albeit who else would notice the tremble in your knees as you turned away. Your hair, a glowing fan of sass that followed the unmistakable rhythm of your boots as they met hard soil and bark beneath your feet.
You never looked back to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to do it. Strong enough to know you were still free and in control in at least that moment of your destiny and the flame you carried within did not dictate this existence you fought through brutal campaigns to justify. By the sway of your hips and bounce in your steps I could venture to assume there was a part of you that also never looked back because you already knew that damned look I’d have on my face.
That look of pure terror in the eyes held in good company with a sly grin. The grin you knew when game recognized game. You knew I wouldn’t take my eyes off you until you met the horizon and it empowered you. I think it empowered me too. Your beauty, your confidence, the love I could not deny and your determination.
You never looked back so we could see each other again. See each other as we should; without the pain and fear we always had just before our flame exploded and fucked our world up. As your figure disappeared up the hill toward the great oak tree, I whispered “I’ll see you in a couple chapters, Love.”
Chapters…that thought brought a smile. It was familiar as our destinies were intertwined. This was a part of us and a pattern documented In the chapters of our past. A part we understood through the pain.
That’s when I noticed that trickster was free. I saw my shadow for the first time, free from yours, in years. And it was dancing in our flames. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony…because you would have encouraged me to go ahead and dance “let it out babe, play - I’ve kept your shadow locked up for too long”. I would have retorted something clever about you knowing my shadow always gets me into trouble…and frankly we both knew my shadow was more a monster than I could ever be.
I always looked back.
The sight from the top of our hill where the great oak tree mused was… It was beautiful. It was a painting of earthy tones savaged by reds and swirls of darkness. The flames danced to the heavens as the sun was setting perfectly behind our woods. It looked like we had set the world on fire. It reminded me of your beauty.
Related write:
https://theprose.com/post/217553/run-free
Related write:
https://theprose.com/post/218075/remember
She Was Brave; I Survived
She ensured we never saw the pain and fear we always had in our hearts.
She could not bear to see it in my eyes as it would destroy her.
She knew also that I would never look away.
She knew it was not in me to turn away from her unless she asked me to.
She knew I would break just as she would if we ever allowed each other
to see the emotions fully in the eyes as it would mirror our own.
That look of a lovers eyes when emotions of sorrow and grief found their way
from the pits of their stomach to view outside the windows of their soul.
We never wanted to see that look.
We knew it had to work this way.
That was her strength: to be brave and to walk away.
That was my strength: to survive watching her leave.
Saturday’s Shadow
Singing storms starstruck sermons surmise, surprisingly suffocating, sentimental stones.
Swaths sewing strife striping statues staggered, strangely sated, silently signing surrender.
Sorrow’s surprise summoned shrapnel, saturating stature’s stranded, synagogue suddenly.
Striking strongly, subjects soundlessly serenade, stupendous saintly solidarity.
Spectacular symphonies, solidify song structures, summoning Saturday’s Shadow.
Island Walkabout
When chaos ripped through my little island world, fire did not fall from the sky, brimstone did not ride upon plumes of strife, sulfur did not saturate my seas with poisonous degree.
No, my island simply slipped silently sleeping as it sank to the bottom of the ocean, fully consumed. Only finally voicing it’s disdain while sputtering plumes of sea spray as the rip tide engulfed the solitary spires of it’s mountainous peaks.
Only once the waves settled calm again did my island arise from the depths a new, fresh and clean. A new world slowly emerged birthing a unrecognized grandstand of crown spires and lagoons in which pirates sailed hiding their treasures beneath the beaches that mermaids bathed.
The land within contained fierce jungles leading to unexplored woods and creatures never before witnessed on this side of the ocean. These creatures were hunted in the night by lost boys and their roaring battle cries of wry caws and croos.
Island Walkabout
Original Painting
36″x36″ Mixed Media / Archival Quality / Acrylics / Oils / Spray Paint / Varnish Sealed
View full painting:
https://www.instagram.com/p/BlZS5gBH9No/?taken-by=m.h.marie
Original work no longer available.
Commissions available upon request.
Theprose.com/mhmarie
Facebook.com/mhmrie
Instagram.com/m.h.marie
Tree’s Island
This wild, wailing, wriggling, world
holds a wicked empty throne;
hidden where roots have curled
as Tree calls this place her home.
The mighty ocean’s swells climb
at its defiance since crowned;
it stands still rooted in time
guarding our world’s lost and found.
This island splat of free land:
where roar of wave race report
to serve on shiny shore strand,
is quick to give it’s retort.
The brush fan chase forest stand
that pan round lake and hill span:
where stone strewn slabs climb inland
as they march in line to plan.
This story of defiance
is told to every isle child:
a story of alliance
claims that all things here are wild.
The mountain range monstrous:
each peak complete with grandstand
of rebel rock crown’s chorus
to the kingdom of dry land.
This island hides it’s treasure
safe from ocean assaults pound:
an imagined worlds measure
of rhythm in your soul’s sound.
The Mend
While you are counting petals
I’m counting pieces
While you are throwing to the wind
I’m sewing them back on
While you are destroying beautiful
I’m reconstructing passion
While your heart seems lost now
I’m building what I’ve found
While your wings are bent broken
I’m reattaching mine again
While you kneel stripped naked
I’m mending my scars within
While your rainclouds are looming
I’m bringing the wind soon, friend
While we are in two different places
I’m learning to fly further each time
While your world seems gloomy
I’m trying to bring the light, amen
While your tears douse your flame
I’m carrying an inferno tonight
While today may not be your day
I’m sharing my shine mid flight
Image:
Original painting
Watercolor/Ink
View full image at:
https://www.instagram.com/p/BlgYj4rHqZH/?taken-by=m.h.marie
Battle Born
From first breath you're committed, then, until your last, to battle.
So, display your colors with pride and choose your weapons wisely.
Sing the song of your battle cry in silence or with wonderful giggle.
Practice your dance: perfecting grace in the motions of your charge.
You are battle born; the fields of life stand before you -- good luck.
Image: Child Soldier reading Al-Qur'an - R-Drain Deviantart