Poetry

Bard Dance

We paste on our faces and squelch down our thoughts,

produce positive, can-do attitudes to adhere to the court.

Seething inside, maybe; overwhelmed, swamped under,

forever unable to give in to our thunder.

The days melt under the heat and converge into one,

a conjunction of swarming bees whose tasks are never done.

Bodies we are close too, silent they must be,

still encourage us with a gesture only we can see.

And after the hour-chains finally let us retire,

we crash under waves that we have perspired.

Poetry

Two’s company

Let us chime together,

stepping forth into the hour

where all time stands still.

Our fingers can link, we will be grafted.

Your warmth radiating into me and

my warmth radiating into you.

Our lips may not touch,

but our minds will.

We can speak until the hour is up

or we can be silent.

Lack of words is not lack of companionship.

In that moment, we can be constant.

We can be us.