Sway Of The Dance

Red wine sipped through lips
painted shades of frost and crimson
...dark eyes look away -  a seductive glance
meant only for you and
when the night tumbles around us
while stars shoot across the sky
there will be a time when your hands embrace the moment
and hold its place with mine…

That first kiss speaks volumes
a prelude to what could be
…if we want it badly enough
please don't take for granted
that my affection will remain open to you
I could hold out for a lifetime to get it right
what we dream, what we have lost
keep the heart beating…

Dare I caress the sway of the dance - again? 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

I Am Still Here

Your eyes close 
peaceful rest 
holding your hand 
a gentle squeeze 
...I'm still here 
Sunlight slips 
between the cracks 
in drawn shades 
Patterns of lace 
dance on pale 
linen colored walls 
Shallow breath 
I lay my head 
on your chest 
for confirmation 
you whisper 
...I'm still here 
We fall together 
a dream state 
a reverie 
and sacred space 
Fields of lavender 
and wild flowers 
The wind weaves
and sways
between long 
blades of grass 
Like a child 
fear and foe 
dissipate
and laughter 
permeates the air 
I turn to you 
your eyes 
meet mine 
...I'm still here
Warmth and energy
smiles forever wide
And off in the distance 
your shadow begins
to glisten
and in the quiet
the calm silence
leaning forward 
I strain to listen
and as your voice 
begins to fade
I can hear you say
I am still here, I am still here... 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

I Cry For You

Walking out knee deep
Fluid reflections glimmer
Walking out shifting sandbar 
Low tide is a slow rise 
The moon sits stoically
On a fine line drawn 
Across the horizon 
And I can only imagine 
What is beyond the curve 
Of this narcissistic planet - Earth 
Or the destination of shooting stars
First hand knowledge burn out
Slips beneath my own personal radar
The way love vanishes mysteriously
Into the stillness of a dark night
Or shutters as the light of day
Seeps into creases of awareness
Sudden winds blow like a cold slap
Chilling the hearts of lonely lovers
A harsh realization...bitter sweet
The dance leaves me senseless
Leaves me empty 
...I cry for you
East coast rainy Saturday 
Music playing in the background 
Lyrics that hit home 
Lyrics I should have written 
Back when life wasn't so convoluted
Flipping from page to page 
Familiar visions old photos 
Memories open the flood gates 
To those no longer here 
Outside of this sphere 
Loved ones that touched my heart...changed my life 
Loved ones and friends interchangeable affections 
East coast rainy Saturday
Leaves me empty 
...I cry for you

© 2014 TrilbyYates

Grand Masquerade

Long beach walks, 
silent talks
thoughts and such
Wondering if there is
a chance, slight possibility
cosmic hotline
that you are aware,
that you can see or hear...me
Wondering if this is all
just some illusive grand masquerade
that is being spun
from the tip of wisdom filled tongues,
with a blank slate
to continually create
what ever
is in the moment;
an abyss of possibilities
and none  -
Void of all
nothing tangible
...an illusive grand masquerade
that is being spun
from the tip of wisdom filled tongues -

...dancing as if there is no tomorrow



© 2014 TrilbyYates    

Oh The Random-ness Of Thought

Half way between
here there and everywhere 
spark an interest 
douse the flame 
and the Circle Line 
has the second best view 
of a city of sleepwalkers 
daydreamers 
Svengali's and the like 
but man was i wrong 
when i thought i saw 
the span of the greatest bridge 
in the world 
in your eyes 
even though 
i never noticed
if you were looking at me 
or across the room 
i tend to drift away
from time to time
side effects 
of climbing too high 
without a safety net...

© 2014 TrilbyYates


The four universal healing salves:

When did you stop dancing?
When did you stop singing?
When did you stop being enchanted by stories?
When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
Where we have stopped dancing, singing, being enchanted by stories, or finding comfort in silence is where we have experienced the loss of soul.
Dancing, singing, storytelling, and silence are the four universal healing salves.

~ The Four-Fold Way: Walking the Paths of the Warrior, Healer, Teacher and Visionary

Delicately Choreographed Dance

By the end 
of this 
dream life
as we 
glide 
or stumble
from path 
to journey
road block 
or stepping stone
not a macabre 
scheme
in the moment 
unaware
of the transformation 
the information
the lack of overload
double-fisted  
hands of fate 
stride in 
never tipping 
"its" intention
knowing full well
ignorance 
is not a defense 
in the land 
of the law
the freedom
of choice
the unwritten 
page in our 
personal stories...
but is a gift 
from God
at times 
and others 
a curse
you my friend
though you try
I'm sure...
between word 
and song
sip of wine 
catch yourself
letting go
drifting off
across the sound 
can not forget
may not recall 
my name
...out loud 
in an awkward
moment
or
the deepest
color of my eyes
transparent brown
but you will 
in that place
held close 
to the vest
where the heart
protects 
Pandora's box
...we've come to call
dare not open 
except 
on precious occasion
in the privacy 
of your own 
desire 
for a tender 
moment
interlude
set of circumstance
caesura
the harmony 
that was shared
within a breath 
between 
two people 
on a path
that intersected 
not so long ago 
will not
be denied...

We are not frozen
isolated in a prism 
variegation
memories sojourn
we are a 
delicately 
choreographed dance... 

© 2013 Trilby  

One More For The Road

Ambiance
candle light low smoldering glow
not tagged for tender romance
self serving no holds barred seduction
of another kind...
Bar scene fades defiantly out of view
as the backroom juke joint
grabs hold soothes the heart
and shakes the soul

Time passes reluctantly
yet the heart beat carries the crowd
unified movement sweltering heat
his music becomes my own...
We are ageless as images of youth
begin to blur colorless montage
just the way Mother Nature intended
magical streaks shades of grey
run translucent color through his hair

And the Music man
oblivious continues to play
mesmerizing the lovelorn
eyes closed, head tilted

focused far off in a melodious zone

he blows a sultry song
as if his world is a slow burn
of notes and tones
saved for me, yet
shared with the lost and lonely
with pleading reverie one more for the road...

For now my journey has
purpose, reverence and intent
The Music man holds my hand
guiding me along the way
while I absorb song and sound
eyes closed, head tilted
focused far off in a melodious zone
conjuring up and improvising
notes and tones
with pleading reverie one more for the road... 

© 2013 Trilby 

Train Ride

                                                     Metro North ~ photo by TYates
Long train ride
NYC to CT
eyes close 
images sharpen 
and the senses 
seem unusually high 
and maybe 
it was the way 
you kissed me 
or the way your hand 
was gently placed 
in the lowest part 
of my back 
pulling me close 
swaying to the music 
dancing has never felt 
so seductive 
brushing my hair 
off my neck 
whispered words 
the rhythm 
soothing 
from the top 
of the crystalline 
mountain 
to the fiery depths 
of hell 
a moment in time 
holds tenderly 
perfection in memories
if nothing is accidental 
all has purpose and intent 
lessons lived 
and lessons learned 
explanations not needed 
when two ships 
in the night 
pass
and yet
remain connected -

...the conductor walks by, click, click...next stop Westport, walk two cars forward and watch your step... 

© 2013 Trilby 

Old Man

                                                        photo by Johanna's Visions

Old man's 
whiskey soaked 
voice crackles
sparks explode 
translucent color 
drenched skies
Blues man 
juke joint
a few steps 
from the past
reflect back 
dancing hands 
held high 
fingers snapping 
deja vu
sweet drifting
Westminster shuffle
bump and grind
heart's beat
keeping time 
same swagger
tilt of his head 
continues to mesmerize...
  
© 2013 Trilby     

Our Worlds Collided

This time of the year 
comes around 
sails full 
and heart strings pull 
....which way do I lean 

A hard wind blows 
and I still don't know 
how to live this life 
...in the darkness

Candle light seeps 
through veins of hope
and the night dances 
on and on 
off in the distance
a familiar song
sings sentimental 
harmony
I recall the tiniest of detail
emotional tides turn
memories burn
even though 
...the flames have faded 
yet I continue to dream
of a Newport scene
when our worlds collided... 

© 2013 Trilby

Your Lips To My Soul

...dance slowly
seductive song 
of lost lovers
sweet senses 
to all that vibrates 
interchangeable 
slipknot 
wraps a cord 
neatly around 
heart sings 
without accompaniment 
never skipping 
a beat 
one note 
repetitive glance  
takes me forward
listening quietly
for words
whispered in the dark
soft hushed tone
pressed passionately
from your lips
to my soul... 

© 2013 Trilby

Good Friday ~ April 2011

Rose boutineer ~ April 2011

Where Have You Gone My Friend

Where have you gone my friend?
I am missing the moments
of comfort and fantasy.
When I could be
what ever I wanted
and you would grant
my every wish.
In visions
of the extraordinary
and beyond.
Simplicity sparks
the imagination,
as grandeur
tantalizes the mind.
Floating off on a cloud
watching the world go by.
Or sailing along
with a full breeze.
Letting nothing get in the way
while passions play
a game of
hide and seek.
And we could dance,
the minuet
in full royal garb,
cloak and dagger delight.
Mystery man
behind the mask
will steal a kiss
from lips to finger tips.
Traveling through time.
And if the moment
becomes too dark,
deep thoughts will
shift to light.
And I will find myself
sipping a glass of wine,
in an intimate French cafe.
With the man
that makes
the music play...
I could save the world,
or let it go!
Climb mountains high,
sail the seven seas,
and pirate your heart
laughing at the site!
Joy and love
would all rise
as the stage is set.
And if my path
takes a turn,
ghosts began to hover
or a visit from the other side.
I would smile
at the thought of you,
knowing we always have tonight.

Where have you gone my friend,
Sweetest Reverie?

© 2011 Trilby Yates