Monday, April 21, 2014

Balleto - by Bob Atkinson

Balleto
(c)2014 Bob Atkinson
she stood there en pointe
as if a statue made
to engage all hormonal flows
of men who watched her fade

into a somber lifeless body
of sweetness carried through
to movements Enrico taught her
some abrupt, some flowing smoothly
here on polished marble floors
arms spread out as tufted plumes
delightful in her poses practiced
as if Taglioni had returned
in that empty room this night
Sylphide was danced again for lust
beneath a hunter moon red glow
she to the light looked up

that body of the woman girl
danced for none around
yet soared up toward bright stars
never touching ground

a ribbon twisted in the wind
as sister to the dancer
both floated feather light
paying homage to the master
 Chris Dellorco
"en Pointe"
she made a point, then retired
to feel a heart beat fast
giving herself broad satisfaction
that she'd done her best in dance

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Pink Flamingo - by Bob Atkinson

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
Poemwriter: 
Bernie Taupin

when are you gonna come down
when are you going to land
I should have stayed on the farm
I should have listened to my old man

you know you can't hold me forever
I didn't sign up with you
I'm not a present for your friends to open
this boy's too young to be singing the blues

so goodbye yellow brick road
where the dogs of society howl
you can't plant me in your penthouse
I'm going back to my plow

back to the howling old owl in the woods
hunting the horny black toad
oh, I've finally decided my future lies
beyond the yellow brick road

what do you think you'll do then?
I bet they'll shoot down the plane
it'll take you a carton of vodka and tonics
to set you on your feet again

maybe you'll get a replacement
there's plenty like me to be found
mongrels who ain't got a penny
sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground

so goodbye yellow brick road
where the dogs of society howl
you can't plant me in your penthouse
I'm going back to my plow

back to the howling old owl in the woods
hunting the horny black toad
oh, I've finally decided my future lies
beyond the yellow brick road
Commentary:
Such great feelings of a situation, real or imagined
this poem deserves the acclaim it received
and showed fully that poetry can be extremely popular
if it's recognized as song lyrics (poetry's original form)

Pink Flamingo
(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

words of feeling flowed that day
at the hotel by blue sea reaches
a penthouse wall of glass
overlooked white sand beaches

Bernie tried to tell him
how he felt deep in his heart
his friend said "understood"
said "we'll never want to part"

in that mild and wondrous land
of people with much energy
the two constructed beauty
Bernie wrote, Elton played the keys

the fight was with professionals
not these friends of different roots
so to France they soon departed
for different sounding tools

no thoughts of independence
they relied upon each other
to fill broad dreams of popularity
endless drama herein sequestered


feelings laid down on the song
truths herein displayed with skill
bore a simple attitude professed
 of frustration's conflicted zeal

Bernie told us feelings deep
when one sees a slight develop
to injure one just inside the ribs
a placid form of judgement

made all of our hearts melt
two friends working together on art
sending emotions out on broadcast waves
describing drama caused by hardship

took us in our inner thoughts
to a place there on the sand
feelings laid bare with energy
documented by the band

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

If I'd Played it Different - by Bob Atkinson

If I'd Played it Different
(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

if I'd played it different
would my game of life revolve
around success, no real regrets
was my walking path unsound

if I'd ran the flag up high
and stomped upon the ground
like a large black stallion
one of a thousand pounds

would my sense of urgency
have solved those puzzles quick
could my happy nature have been
 changed to thin from thick

who knows how life travels
who knows what lies ahead
when all our paths diverge
'cause of voices in our heads

to cry over what could have been
ignores the simple fact
that risk of failure sweetens life
it's not a burden on our backs