I generally try to let life speak to me, when coming up with ideas for these poems. This is what came up this time around; see below, under the orange squiggly dingbat.
Please feel free to respond, poetically or not, and thank you for stopping by! Volunteers to take on a week, here and there, (except the 4th week of the month, which is ably and beautifully filled by ruleoflaw) are most welcome and happily accepted!
Kalliope
Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
Join us every Tuesday afternoon at the Daily Kos community political poetry club.
Your own poetry is always welcome in the comments.
Bongos, berets & turtle neck sweaters optional.
The keyboard is mightier than the sword.
The Dance
He was a dancer, my husband.
A man of grace, long of leg,
Sure of rhythm, a stickler
For “doing it right.”
A world he shared with me,
Though less devoted than he
Was, I struggled, mentally gasping
Trying to keep up.
Contra was not his first dance
Love, but it soon became mine.
Active, collaborative in that
Partners are freely traded
From dance to dance within
The course of an evening.
It's not too much to say
It keeps me happy
And sane, in this second year
Moving to third, of my widowed state.
Missing my dancer, but not his
Friends, now mine, too,
A world claimed now as mine,
In my own way and time.
Last night belonged to Scandi--
My husband's proud Nordic
Heritage honored, another facet
Of the world of dance, different
Set of friends, with some overlap
With contra, and English.
I don't know when or
How it became the custom
To have one hambo (Swedish)
As part of every
Contra dance, at least
Here, in the greater Portland
Community of dancers, but
I'm glad it's there.
Dances of the country lanes,
Dances of the people, shared
Spirits commune and mingle
Flying feet and hearts.
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