They’d Danced
The music continues to reverberate inside their heads,
But the band had packed up and left hours earlier.
Notes ringing inside their skulls
Extending the evening,
Echoing long enough for one more dance,
One more long slow dance.
So they dance to the internal melody,
His hands nestle in the small of her back,
Her arms drape around his neck, her head resting
Resting against his shoulder as his heartbeat keeps time
Their feet in sync,
They sway as the breezes come on shore,
Their feet as cold as the wet sand pressing their soles
While hope presses their souls.
The briny air stings their nostrils as they inhale the night.
Trying to extend the moment, cursing the coming rays,
Which will pull back the curtain of darkness.
And they dance,
To a rhythm remembered through a slightly drunken mist,
Slowed unperceivable, seeping like liquid through a thick cloth.
She shivers against the damp night air,
He wraps her more tightly into his arms,
Extending all of himself around her
As she falls into his welcoming chest.
The first glow, the embers of day push the horizon,
It brings no warmth as it rips the fabric of night
As if they are embarrassed by the exposure
Reluctantly, slowly, they peel apart,
Knowing it is easier done quickly,
But savoring the pain, of one last touch.
He looks over his shoulder as she walks away
The early sun now highlighting all that is right
And wrong about her,
About them,
A wind moves in filling the void
Rushing to blow away the remnants of “them”
Scattering like the sand
As each wave crashes onshore,
So that no one could piece them together
And that refrain still plays in his head,
Louder and louder as he limps away
Fending off the coming fatigue to think of …”what if.”
The song blaring drowning out the cries of … “why not.”
But they’d danced.
- craig savage
Blowing.
I noticed a fallen leaf
Blowing about on a blustery day
Not in any particular direction
Just around.
Every time it seemed to settle
It was lifted up again.
Disturbed, tossed about
It never looked comfortable
Even in moments of sudden stillness
Between chilled gusts
Knowing its rest was to be short-lived.
At any instant it was bound
To be spirited away again
Tumbling and twisting with other debris
Windborne flotsam
Even in its movements it looked exhausted
Despondent, helpless, resigned
Resigned to its fate of becoming…becoming
… Dust.
- craig savage
Like Gauguin
I think about where I am,
And where it is I’m going.
I think about where I’ve been,
And dementia slowly growing
I think about lasting love,
With beauty, bright and fair.
I think about what’s beyond,
The extent of the affair.
I wonder why birds fly high,
While fish swim quietly.
I wonder as clouds float by,
On waves of endless sea.
I think about the happy times.
I contemplate the pain.
The happy times we soon forget.
The pains sometime remain.
I wonder about true love.
And believe it still exists.
Found by chance readily,
Realized in a kiss.
I think about slow ocean tides.
A new warm rising sun.
With every rain and morning dew,
A next day has begun.
I think about my insides,
And outsides of my life.
I think about the stinging words,
That cut one like a knife.
I think about the tree that falls,
Silent in the wood.
I wonder what it sounds like,
To hear it if I could.
I wonder why hearts palpitate,
For love given yet not returned.
If forgiveness is inborn instinct
Or something one must learn?
I think about others’ thoughts,
And what they think of me.
I think of what’s in others’ eyes,
When they look, but fail to see.
I think about tomorrows.
Of every transient touch.
I think about my thinking.
I fear, I think too much.
- craig savage
Author's Comments:
"A friend pointed out that the first three line reminded her of a Gauguin painting titled “Where Do We Come From? Where Are we? Where Are We Going.” So I looked up that painting and found that it made me “think” also. Hence the title “Like Gauguin.”"
I think about where I am,
And where it is I’m going.
I think about where I’ve been,
And dementia slowly growing
I think about lasting love,
With beauty, bright and fair.
I think about what’s beyond,
The extent of the affair.
I wonder why birds fly high,
While fish swim quietly.
I wonder as clouds float by,
On waves of endless sea.
I think about the happy times.
I contemplate the pain.
The happy times we soon forget.
The pains sometime remain.
I wonder about true love.
And believe it still exists.
Found by chance readily,
Realized in a kiss.
I think about slow ocean tides.
A new warm rising sun.
With every rain and morning dew,
A next day has begun.
I think about my insides,
And outsides of my life.
I think about the stinging words,
That cut one like a knife.
I think about the tree that falls,
Silent in the wood.
I wonder what it sounds like,
To hear it if I could.
I wonder why hearts palpitate,
For love given yet not returned.
If forgiveness is inborn instinct
Or something one must learn?
I think about others’ thoughts,
And what they think of me.
I think of what’s in others’ eyes,
When they look, but fail to see.
I think about tomorrows.
Of every transient touch.
I think about my thinking.
I fear, I think too much.
- craig savage
Author's Comments:
"A friend pointed out that the first three line reminded her of a Gauguin painting titled “Where Do We Come From? Where Are we? Where Are We Going.” So I looked up that painting and found that it made me “think” also. Hence the title “Like Gauguin.”"
A Toast
Here’s to hope that damaged souls,
Splintered psyches, and misplaced goals,
Can find a soft place to land.
That broken hearts find legs to stand.
Here’s to baggage in deep dark closets,
And all the haunts that weigh upon us.
May they fall away and be no more;
Stay locked away behind closed doors.
Here’s to you and all your demons,
Ghosts and goblins and their screaming
Will stop their nighttime infiltration,
And let you sleep in restful station.
Here’s to me with all my faults,
Unrealized promise, darkened thoughts.
May melancholy be splashed with light,
And wisdom found to fight for right.
Here’s to dusks of new beginnings.
Daytime trysts and midnight endings.
Can cast some doubts and wistful thinking
That ships of souls are always sinking.
So here’s to times when souls have mended
When night and daytime dreams have ended
May egos heal and realities soothe
All that we have sought to prove
- craig savage
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