Like Spring (Tanka)

Petals in the breeze

In memories we’re twirling

Blown away too soon

Sitting in our cozy chairs

Our youth remembered like Spring

50 Word Stories: Here with the Leaves

Leaves pirouette in twirling strains of rust, a fragmentary demise. I rub the autumn fog from my spectacles, but moist mists steal my joyous vision eclipsing the dancers. Like the weather and the nature it provokes, I am betwixt and between. A good place, methinks, here, twirling with the leaves.

Dancing Through The Decay

 Amidst the falling leaves, she pirouetted. How someone could be so full of life, when all about her faded, astounded me? But, maybe, that was her secret? She shone through the decay. An earthbound moonbeam, cleaving aside all that it was to be mortal, I watched her in her joy. She exuded a summer gone and the promise of others to come.
 I did not know how long our love would last, all was so new, but whilst she was in my world, I would be a better man. That had to be worth something? It was all I had.

 (Image courtesy of shikami on

Chasing The Moon

 She only sought to chase the moon
 Stepping out, would be back soon.
 She danced into the crystal light
 Twirling, whirling, through the night,
 Over hill and across the sea,
 Wherever moon was there was she.
 Silhouette of happiness
 She wore a smile and silken dress,
 And silver shoes of moonbeam dew
 Laced with love a potent stew.
 She never did go home again
 She’d left the now, gone past the then.
 But if the moon reveals full face
 Then you will see her dancing place.

 (Image and inspiration Michelle Marie)

The Reddest Shoes (Twisted Fairytales)

Written for and inspired by Kimberly. Check out her great blog.

 How Karen loved those red shoes
 Disobeyed her adopted mother
 Wore them always to church
 Wore them whilst her mother took ill
 Even wore them to her parent’s funeral
 Showed them off to a passing soldier
 And as if by magic, Karen danced
 She pirouetted, kicked, sashayed
 Tore through streets, lanes, pastures
 Whirled over bridges, farms, battlefields
 Span until her toes bled, then feet, then legs
 Danced until an axe-man lopped her ankles off
 Waltzed away
 Wooden feet the girl had made
 But red shoes danced on, hindered
 Until, at last, humbled girl, turned to God
 He struck her down, from love
 And to Heaven she’s lifted and awakened
 As feet were back in the red shoes
 And Karen danced on, and on, and down
 To Hell
 She dances there still

 (Image courtesy

Dancing Through the Fog

Note: another favourites poem for my great friend Caddo. A brilliant poetess, I hope this is okay for her.

 Forget-me-not moments,
 Blue like gentle spirit.
 Shrouded in seclusion,
 A fog if you will,
 She searches through memories
 Long since past.
 And there it is, laughter, love,
 The answer to heartfelt prayers.
 The grey mists part to a burnished dance floor.
 She knows it a dream,
 For where else would Palm trees sway to an unfelt breeze.
 A figure stands there hand outstretched, beckoning,
 Perhaps a ghost, perhaps more,
 But she acquiesces to his wishes.
 A hidden orchestra strikes up a tune and she’s dances.
 She dances for love, life, and her Lord,
 As the sweet smell of hibiscus flowers pomade her world.
 And as she pirouettes in intangible grasp she smiles,
 And a silver moon appears overhead sheafed by stars.
 This is her imagination, her dream,
 And it is perfect.
 (At least, I hope it is for her)

 (Image courtesy of Lemmy-X on

Decadent Dancing

Of no consequence this chaos,
No rubble do I see,
Peeling paint is but a blur
As I twist, and turn, and dance.
I move to the forgotten heartbeat
Of a time where more was less.
Where these walls dripped opulence,
And glamour, and insincerity.
I dance as I did then,
But with no more tears to shed.
I dance for a time before time,
For a dance stemming only from love.
I dance amongst ruins to show
It wasn’t all for nothing.
I dance for a decadent past,
And decadent love, and decadent lust.
For who else is there left
To dance, but I?

(Amazing artwork from