Saturday, August 31, 2013
Cantata
Slipping her foot,
into soft pink leather,
she pulls the ribbons tight,
wrapping them around her ankle,
knotting the bow until its stiff,
and at last,
she is safe,
wrapped in a cocoon,
of cantata's from her soul.
With a glide she begins,
as she crosses the floor,
it is then,
that the world disappears,
and she becomes all that she once was,
all that she could ever want to be,
in a place of make believe,
spawned from the raptures of her heart.
The music fills her,
and they become one,
as she flows here and there,
releasing,
and she breaths,
no one can hurt her,
no one can leave,
she has on her amour,
her ballet shoes of light.
They are never ashamed,
to be seen at her side,
you see they wait for her,
to bring them to life,
And when her dance is done
and it is time to go
she lovingly caresses them
for they have saved her
once again, evermore...
Author Notes
I, I am a dancer, I have come home, let me in....
© Dixie Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved, 2011
The First Morning
And in the beginning, dawn did break
a breath of light growing to completeness
an understanding which breaks forth from the clouds
spreading itself to all those within its grasps
emerge does the ray, coming from above
in its birth it gives life
an origin of definition
and it is here that it becomes
an earthly phase
the light of the world
in commencement of all that was
Author Notes contest piece, tell the definition of your name in a poem, my name is Dawn.... © Dixie Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved 2011
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Emoulment
It has come,
desperation,
bringing with it the gall of despair,
and I am buried,
in deep trenches of thick pain,
covered with emolument defeat....
I cannot move,
this tar clings to all that I am
and for a moment
I do not want to be here
I do not want to live
yet, I will not die....
How long must I live this way,
hand to mouth to stay afloat,
begging for food, shelter, temporal needs...
This was not my dream, to be pauper
for though to others I appear desperate,
needy, and I assume,
troublesome,
I am a fighter honest and true,
my works is to be self reliant,
though my mistakes were foolish
school girl ideals,
thus the more that I fight,
the more I am buried
buried yet alive....
Cleave unto thy wife,
I expected he would take care of me
my prince,
I expected he would support me,
I expected to not have to be the man...
Honor they mother, I expected to be loved,
I expected to be recognized,
I expected to be aided if it were ever I in need,
Love they child as thy self,
I expected to not be cheated,
I expected not, manipulation....
And yet I must beg, as they move on with their desires
and here I sit abandoned and penniless...
I feel not sorry for myself, make no mistake
I will work and slave and fight
to the bitter end,
I will love them forever,
those that leave me behind,
I will not be selfish or cold,
Even so, will they visit me as I live under the bridge....
I have ever been at beck and call,
true and faithful,
to the best that ability allows,
But now, even right now, this very moment
my embarrassment and shame for alms I must seek
has broken me and I cry to my God...
Where is my rock like unto that I have always been,
wilt thou provide an escape from these holes of black,
wilt though make me triumphant,
that I might succeed over poverty,
and wilt thou Oh Lord heal me,
from this pain,
that I wish not to die,
that I be,
ever in the moment,
of living....
© Dixie Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved, August 29 2013
desperation,
bringing with it the gall of despair,
and I am buried,
in deep trenches of thick pain,
covered with emolument defeat....
I cannot move,
this tar clings to all that I am
and for a moment
I do not want to be here
I do not want to live
yet, I will not die....
How long must I live this way,
hand to mouth to stay afloat,
begging for food, shelter, temporal needs...
This was not my dream, to be pauper
for though to others I appear desperate,
needy, and I assume,
troublesome,
I am a fighter honest and true,
my works is to be self reliant,
though my mistakes were foolish
school girl ideals,
thus the more that I fight,
the more I am buried
buried yet alive....
Cleave unto thy wife,
I expected he would take care of me
my prince,
I expected he would support me,
I expected to not have to be the man...
Honor they mother, I expected to be loved,
I expected to be recognized,
I expected to be aided if it were ever I in need,
Love they child as thy self,
I expected to not be cheated,
I expected not, manipulation....
And yet I must beg, as they move on with their desires
and here I sit abandoned and penniless...
I feel not sorry for myself, make no mistake
I will work and slave and fight
to the bitter end,
I will love them forever,
those that leave me behind,
I will not be selfish or cold,
Even so, will they visit me as I live under the bridge....
I have ever been at beck and call,
true and faithful,
to the best that ability allows,
But now, even right now, this very moment
my embarrassment and shame for alms I must seek
has broken me and I cry to my God...
Where is my rock like unto that I have always been,
wilt thou provide an escape from these holes of black,
wilt though make me triumphant,
that I might succeed over poverty,
and wilt thou Oh Lord heal me,
from this pain,
that I wish not to die,
that I be,
ever in the moment,
of living....
© Dixie Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved, August 29 2013
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Twilight of Forever
An aged breeze touched wisps of her hair
and she closed her eyes awaiting its embrace....
Is it you, she thought,
as it entwined itself in the crevice of her neck,
leaving a calling card,
from the finger tips of clouds....
Then she felt it, the memory of the night,
cradling her as a young babe,
loving her as the mother of song....
Ai Mouria,
through rooftops you have traveled endless days
wrapped in the current that now flows free...
She embraced its spell
with a bitter sweet kiss,
embellishing a fancy thought,
that it loved her too....
And in an instant all was still,
the smell of fishes and the sea,
the taste of salt upon her lips, gone,
leaving her yearning....
So she waits,
in the twilight of forever.
where now and again,
there is a chance of hope,
that she will return home,
that, she will,
ever be loved.....
© Dixie Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved, August 28 2013
Author Notes
Mouraria is one of Lisbon’s most traditional and historic “bairros” or neighbourhoods. It owes its name to the fact that Dom Afonso Henriques (Afonso I of Portugal), after capturing Lisbon during the Christian Reconquest, decided that the moors should stay in one part of the city, in the same way that the Jews were confined to the areas around the Castle.
Within the district’s confines, the Christianised moors helped to initiate the first elements of Portuguese mudéjar art, which in turn served as certain inspiration for the later Manueline architectural style.
Mouraria is the “Berço do Fado”, or the birthplace of Fado. The first recognised Fado singer, Maria Severa Onofriana or simply “A Severa”, was a tall and gracious prostitute with aristocratic lovers who used to sing in a tavern in Rua do Capelão and in 1846 died from tubercolosis
The main square in this district is known as the Praça de Martim Moniz, named after a knight who supposedly fought under the command of Dom Alfonso Henriques mentioned above. According to legend, during the Seige of Lisbon and the battle for the Castle of São Jorge, then under control of the moors, Martim Moniz saw that one of the doors was slightly ajar. He then single-handedly attacked the door, and wedged himself in so that it couldn’t be closed, being killed in the process. This courageous act, however, permitted his fellow knights access to the castle, and thus victory was assured. The doorway is now named Porta de Martim Moniz in his honour.
Monday, August 26, 2013
I'll Wait.....
I'll wait for you, in the next life to be
you'll find me laying, beneath an old oak tree
sprawled out amongst, wild flowers and grass
dreaming of you and our times that have past
I've embedded my memory into the depths of your mind
so that my voice, my eyes, you can always find
for with you it is, I want to be
spending my life, of eternity
And now please know, that it is you I love
Even when I sleep its you I dream of
loving me, as I do you
for now, until forever, my love
I remain ever true...
© Dixie Dawn Michelle. 2009 All rights reserved
Sweet Autumn
Sweet autumn of my memory
oh that sweet time bye and bye
bare cotton fields and bales of hay
fallen leaves the color of rye
brisk breeze that brushed the strands of my hair
when pecans I did pick
from a tree in granny's old back yard
perched there beside the creek
I can feel it now if I close my eyes
southern dew that comes with twilight
while on the porch gathered round
a pumpkin daddy carved with his knife
yes orange, brown, yellow, red
October colors that fill my mind
when I rode with my love in a hayride wagon
in 1859
sweet autumn it comes back to me
time and time again
to take me on my trip back home
to remember life back when
© Dixie Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved, 2009
Sunday, August 25, 2013
The Fall of a Pear
A fall pear in a basket at the market lay colored with red covering its green. I always loved those red pears, my favorite in the fall and so I splurged paying the higher price for a taste. I picked it up this morning from a basket of fruit siting on my table, I thought it a good choice for breakfast on this chilly rainy October morning. I held it delicately in my hand then put it to my lips taking a healthy bite, and the taste of it was a taste that immediately reminded me of Autumn. So Sweet, it tasted like October, it tasted like November, like Halloween and Thanksgiving. It tasted of all my memories from the past 20 years.
Amazed by the trip this simple fruit was taking me on, I quickly took another bite, that I might be back there again, and in an instant I saw it, laying before me, the greatest saudade of all my life:
I remembered Halloween,
with my three little ones in 1993,
dressing them up in their costumes,
they were so full of excitement,
to trick or treat.
I always dressed up with them,
we had such a grand time,
and fall, Autumn, it did become,
one of our happiest times.
Each year as they grew up,
we would plan what costumes to wear,
and when they came home from school most days,
I had baked fresh cookies for us to share.
We would decorate the house with tons of little things,
and sitting around the supper table,
hearing their stores of the day,
was my favorite thing.
Homecoming mums I made for them,
and their friends, they said like a pro,
and I always smiled hearing them tell all,
"my moms the best you know".
Football games we always went,
there were a special two,
at homecoming and north vs. south games,
my kids were engraved,
with the fall spirit I had to them issued.
Friends they always invited to come over,
or even spend the night,
as they always said they had the coolest home,
and mom of all time.
Even most of those friends, to this day, still call me mom,
They have too built these memories,
that I have to lean upon.
And that brings to mind,
when each year we went,
to the Texas state fair,
it was always our tradition,
to eat and play all day being spent.
The flood of all these memories,
along with so many and more,
came with the bite of a simple fall pear,
and a feeling all is gone heretofore.
My son was my best Friend,
he was always by my side,
he was my biggest fan,
he made life fun, loving me with nothing to hide.
Though fall was always the favorite,
for all my kids just like me,
Bryan was a little different,
he was like my twin, and extension of me.
When they all had grown up,
moving on their separate ways,
it was Bryan who remembered to come home,
for cookies and a football game.
He loved my school jacket,
having all that pride in his way,
and he would always ask to wear it,
during Autumn time days.
This is only a touch,
of all the memories that lay in my heart,
and today, with each bite of this pear,
I cry so very hard.
Everything, it has changed,
and I feel sometimes completely lost,
my Bryan is here no more,
those times are gone like dying fall moss.
Its always been just me and my kids,
we were a family, no matter what,
and though I was a single parent,
they were never without a home or unloved.
But it was Bryan as they grew older,
that kept the family from moving too far apart,
and now that he is gone,
I have to fight that feeling, that all is lost.
He was always right here by my side,
even until the very end,
and I feel so alone since he has gone,
dear God I wish I could have him back,
even for a minute once again.
I'm trying so hard to keep my head above water,
to not let my precious son down,
to keep the family going,
to make him proud of his mom.
So with each bite of this pear,
that I ate harder,
gobbling I did pray,
that it would take me back to when my little family was alive,
back to yesterday.
My saudade since the day I buried him,
has hit me everyday, but today,
with the taste of this pear,
the taste of Autumn,
it has become ever more great.
The commercials say life is a game, so play it, live it,
and I say this is wrong,
For life is not a game, it is a precious gift,
and sometimes,
oh how I wish,
I didn't have move on......
From the soul of a mother
Author Notes
The glass is half empty and half full.....
***Saudade is a word for a feeling of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which is lost. It often carries a fatalist tone and a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might really never return. Saudade has been described as a "vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist ... a turning towards the past or towards the future".[1] A stronger form of saudade may be felt towards people and things whose whereabouts are unknown, such as a lost lover, or a family member who has gone missing. It may also be tranlated as a deep longing or yearning for something which does not exist or is unattainable. Saudade was once described as "the love that remains" or "the love that stays" after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like something or someone that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. In Portuguese, 'Tenho Saudades Tuas', translated as 'I have Saudades of you' means 'I miss you'. © Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved, Oct 2009
The Trail
This place still feels the ragged feet,
that walked upon its ground,
and it holds precious those that are buried,
here and there in shallow mounds,
And still the vast expanse it does,
present its peaks so high,
appearing to be quite heavenly,
stretched forth amid the sky.
It harbors squeaky wagon wheels,
echoing ghostly in the night,
as the Mormon pioneers,
on its trail come back to life.
These people they did belong,
to this land as family,
given to them by God,
a gift,
this golden tapestry.
To the Mountain of the Lord,
This trail did guide them on their way,
that they would have the freedom needed,
to worship as they may.
And still this land it sits so reverent,
so noble and so great,
blessed by those revered of God,
HOSANNA! to his name.
Author Notes
Faith, and endurance gave us the west, which sits gallantly among its people. Digital Art Credits go to Luis Ayres.
© Dawn Michelle. All rights reserved, 2011
The Breath of Daisies
If I could, but lay,
in the tall green grass,
where daisies breathe,
and butterflies dance,
Barefoot I'd be
with just you and me,
watching clouds in the sky,
as they saunter freely.
Blades of green,
weave into our toes,
and magnolia tree blossoms,
tickle our nose,
his name is thunder,
the dog we would have
and we giggle as he chases
the birds of our land,
Splashing he goes,
through a pond nearby,
soaking us wet,
oh how we laughed till we cried,
yes the picture in my mind,
sounds more like a memory,
I can feel the peace now,
as I take this journey,
Innocence, love, and magic intertwined,
a perfect childhood scene,
in my soul it does reside,
Would you like to go there now,
oh come with me won't you please,
would you like to be my friend,
living simply,
for eternity...
©Dixie Dawn Michelle 2012 All rights reserved
Thursday, August 15, 2013
With Only Me
Its lonely now
In this place where I sit,
In this place where I live,
An empty space replacing my heart
I miss it you know,
the laughter, the friendship
the comradery, the sharing
the something to look forward to
You see, I never knew it before
the loneliness of a soul, and now
mine is alone....
I wish I hadn't known the past
For I wouldn't hurt so much now
Yet without it, I wouldn't be
who I am, and that is a blessing
thus, come the pain...
And I can't even describe it, that pain
that deep and forever longing,
a longing that I'm afraid,
will never be remedied,
will never again be satisfied
which makes it all the more painful....
I never left you, not even in the worst of days
yet, because you have left me,
I am alone
Alone in my heart, alone in my soul...
These tears cannot be dried
for the years to come will be bleak,
And I rest upon my pillow
Praying for a dream,
that will give me hope,
to walk, with only me....
August 15 2013 © Dawn Michelle, All rights reserved
In this place where I sit,
In this place where I live,
An empty space replacing my heart
I miss it you know,
the laughter, the friendship
the comradery, the sharing
the something to look forward to
You see, I never knew it before
the loneliness of a soul, and now
mine is alone....
I wish I hadn't known the past
For I wouldn't hurt so much now
Yet without it, I wouldn't be
who I am, and that is a blessing
thus, come the pain...
And I can't even describe it, that pain
that deep and forever longing,
a longing that I'm afraid,
will never be remedied,
will never again be satisfied
which makes it all the more painful....
I never left you, not even in the worst of days
yet, because you have left me,
I am alone
Alone in my heart, alone in my soul...
These tears cannot be dried
for the years to come will be bleak,
And I rest upon my pillow
Praying for a dream,
that will give me hope,
to walk, with only me....
August 15 2013 © Dawn Michelle, All rights reserved
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