Artwork "New Places" by Christopher Lem, www.jankywino.blogspot.com
In the Boneyard
Come dance with me in the boneyard,
On a wild and stormy night.
The wind will be our song
As we dance with the dead,
The trees will swirl,
The stars will twinkle,
And the full moon and passing clouds,
Will be our ball and strobe.
Come dance with me in the boneyard,
Where the world is stripped away
With your memory of flesh.
Take this boney hand, and follow,
Step into the yard with boney toe,
And with our boney faces we will laugh
As we sing with our fleshless throats,
Becoming the whistling wind.
Come dance with me in the boneyard
We’ll paint walls of shimmering light,
With a timeless portal into anywhere.
We’ll come and go as we please,
Zipping skin on as we leave,
And only we will know,
In our magical realm,
Where we dance,
and why.
This poem is dedicated to Bunni S, an even older friend than Face who just happened to pop into my life for the first time in 35 years, just a couple of days ago. Bunni is another friend who could create magical worlds with me in childhood. Divine timing?
15 comments:
We can't get more stripped, and pure, than our bones. I like how you brought the warmth of friendship into that normally chilly boneyard, Cat.
I loved zipping skin on as we leave! A macabre playfulness--just really great.
I'm so glad you reconnected with Bunni. I hope you dance together into that stormy night. :)
I would love to come and dance with you in the boneyard! Enjoyed the dark-magical, yet nonthreatening feel of this delightfully ghoulish romp!
"And the full moon and passing clouds,
Will be our ball and strobe."
Very cool.
I echo Sarah - glad you and Bunni reconnected.
In the boneyard we’ll dance once again my dear friend through the night that is stormy and wild.
For you’ve brought me back to where we once strayed when I was barely more than a child.
With our song on the wind and the dead in our arms we shall dance with this whirling dervish
While the strobe of the moon’s light sees us twirl fast away and grants to us more than just one wish.
With our flesh stripped away and the world but a memory, our bones dance again in this place
Where the simplest joys from our youth can abound and traverse all across time and space.
Our own portal we’ll fashion with magics of youth and then hide it from all prying eyes,
Where we will come and go dressed in skin or bare bones while our laughter sings up through the skies.
(I hope this is seen as a tribute, for that is my intent.) I love you for this, and I remember...
Sarah, There is something so delicate I sense from you, possibly it's partly the image, but you just seem like such a gentle soul and I'm really glad you've been coming by to play of late.
K. Absolutely, let us whirl and twirl together. You're not too far away, we're in the same mountains after all! Perhaps in the summer we should have a bloggers boneyard dance somewhere in these beautiful Blue Mountains.
Bunni my dear, I am awash in tears at your beautiful poetic response as I am at your sudden emergence from the portal. Apparently we have remained alike on some very basic level all these years.
Your poesy is marvelous, where is your blog? I suggest you start one and be writing often, hearts like ours need a welcome place for self expression. This is such a place.
What a wonderful melody this poem has... I love it, Cat, and I love the images that it's swirling...
The artwork is most suitable and very intriguing.
Thanks Vesper! The artwork (proud parent moment) is my son's. I'd like to get him to illustrate this poem, and the dragon poem too. His art is dark and profound and I am heartily glad he has this form of self expression.
I've always seen cemeteries as idealized places. We remember the best of people. The austerity. The purity.
Here, I feel a different purity. Pretense stripped away. Truth and pure, unclouded passions. Sometimes it's so debilitating to zip on the skin to leave. Other times, a warm comfort. As if the purity, in the end, is too much to bear.
Hi Jason, thanks! You are very observant. This poem, a blend of being raw from the death of my friend, and the reentry out of the blue and into my life from another friend, and the very protected vision of an inner light I am beginning to see in my current state of hibernation, are the threads from whence this poem came. The purity of friendship where two can truly be themselves all the way down to the bones is a delight and a treasure and very rare, I'm really grateful that I have been part of a few of those relationships in this life. For the rest of relationships and social interaction, I think at least a little skin is required to protect that light, and yes I agree, it is a comfort then to have that warm skin on.
This is another beautiful poem, Cat! I love the magical feel of this and how you have juxtaposed the boneyard and friendship. I would love to join your boneyard dance, too! Except that I'm sorta clutzy and might step on your feet...ha! ha!
But seriously, this is excellent, in form and imagery. I'm particularly taken with the form. The lines look like a dance with lovely form. The rhythm feels like a dance. This poem makes me want to dance!
Julie, it wouldn't matter if your boney feet stepped on mine, no flesh, no nerves, no problem! And thanks for noticing the shape of the lines. I actually rewrote the last stanza so it would look like it does on the page. Very observant!
I love the life and light in this piece. Good work. Creativity lives.
Thanks Ardi, and welcome to my blog. I hope you'll come again!
I knew it! They do dance at night.
All kidding aside. I really enjoyed the images and flow of this so much I read three times. Very nice...
It's always nice to reconnect with an old friend.
George, welcome! I'm so glad you liked it enough to give it three reads. Thank you so much, and I hope you'll stop by again!
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