A shiny afternoon,
I keep returning there,
always to find her near,
it was of course,
a dance I swear
Rounding the corner,
to sidestep a stream,
we did walk in hand
forever it might seem,
and then the break,
where would we return
A quiet waltz
is one will remain
when out of the cover,
in the daylight of spring,
could she float away.
If we might imagine for a moment
in all of her grace is taken for granted
yet fly she will
in human form to reach the sky
supine sinewy seance in swan like motion
hers is meant only as treasure
in the moment,
in her own personal reality.
must we tarnish the elegance
in all of her wondrous magic.
Ask only a favor
to recognize this sky seeker
vulnerable as sweet dove
serene in sensuality
meant to pleasure the eyes,
within fantasy the mind
could delight …
watch her fly, watch her …
seek the sky.
*I am fortunate to have the permission to occasionally attach the wonderful photography of Allen Parseghian to my work. Always grateful.
Live alive in society a fluid motion
Our artistry as human often a notion
What we imagine to be
simplistic form beyond the scope
of the human condition.
When little we imagine
beauty inherent in effort
while we seek ideal
We cannot overlook that
Grace she will carry with her in
any movement, any shadow.
Why then do we demand,
delight, desire, derive our own …
such satisfaction diminish.
Hers is a remarkable peace whose essence
in body such mystique breathes innocence.
Photographer – Allen Parseghian
Dancer / Model – Svetlana Bednenko
I choose the highlands
that reach toward the sky,
I live to know the heights
where my soul might linger
in a sweet peace of this world,
where it is I am in destiny,
the travels of my mind.
I know so little of what is time,
can only wish and dream perhaps
there might be a delight in line
for all of our heart felt agony.
I wonder often of failure
how the remark contains me
if it were just only a test
a limitless horizon of humanity
would it be so powerful then
once I might understand pathways.
I was once a child of a decade
where screen doors and trails,
soft breeze and playful friends
hot summers and weekend skis
the wisp of romance quite vivid
in the eyes of an older sib.
I remember then when life
could be as transparent as
the picture window in my home.
What happened to muddy the glass,
where is when I did suddenly
come to terms with losing idyllic
prayer and spiritual guidance?
How did I get to be so critical
of simply my own sacred humanity?
Why is it when I wake in the morning sun
my dreams become a starker reality,
a place where hope and beauty
always measured, isn’t a natural
course of my day’s mechanics?
I was watching you one evening
the music pounding my ears,
my body writhing to the rhythm,
yet you miles away in the heights
celebrating love, exploding sensuality
if I could lift my heart to you
like the potion driven magic
of my favorite never found chemist,
might I then find my peak,
while settling into ethereal arms
of passion and grace, would I with a smile
glance upon that valley of my dreams.
*photo credit – allen parseghian
She would move in puzzles
the sort that might twist my mind,
sinewy legs, rambling arms,
her breasts alive in silks
meant only for my eyes
in a crowd of many,
yet my eyes would find hers,
search inside her world,
where her hips would move
my loins as the sweat would pour
our bodies in unison
moving on marble floors
we could do it right here,
if only for a society that
might allow sweet liberties,
the sort you write home about.
move with me please would
her shoulders plead my hands
her thigh inside my own legs
her hips gyrating to the blues.
I would watch her in a moonlit sky,
move through the breeze with a need
to only release a lovely energy
the sort that if offered may swoon.
we may dance inside each other’s
minds, passion filled, recreating
a seductive sojourn, her sensuality.
if only the dance floor became my reality.
When I could feel you move,
you danced, and I followed, only holding on,
knowing you were there,
my side brushing yours, chest gracing
I could play all night
if the right melody
brought your eyes inside my own,
if I could be there now,
When the music played,
I will listen to your gasps,
the delicious nature of a heated exchange
of lips and tongue and grasps and ass,
When the music plays,
I will dance with her.
She could dance in the moonlight,
the world around her
would recognize an elegant night,
for while we occur
to imagine the beauty of a morning sunrise,
we still must always,
allow her world to remedy and realize
these are her days.
She could dance under a starry sky,
we ought not have to ever ask why!