Tag Archives: dance

Interplay

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Interplay of light
      the image of the bank
                   in counter-swirl
           against the bend of river
       trees extending down into
     the depths of sky
         squiggled by the   
                 lightly ruffled 
                          sun dusted
                                  surface.
        Interplay of sound
        a line of music weaving through itself
  invoking hums and sometimes claps and shouts
fundamental frequencies 
   enhance the sound waves
       send exquisite echoes through our bones.
                    Interplay of touch
              a wave begun with one
    goes through another
who sends it back 
in perfect tone and time
contact flowing 
    up along the skin
          and deep within
                  luxuriance of inner liquid waves.


©Wendy Mulhern
May 1, 2011



Body Rapture

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For the Turtle Dancers . . . 
Body Rapture
Let the body rapture
lead you out
beyond the tentacles of words
beyond the weights and measures of the mind
the body knows it loves, it doesn’t care
about constraints of boxes and conditions
doesn’t need permission
doesn’t need directions
has its own affection
makes its own connection
precisely tuned to every move and glance
The body rapture knows
love is pure enough to move you
in the deep perfection
of the dance.


©Wendy Mulhern
April 29, 2011

Another dance sonnet

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I wrote two poems today – well, maybe one of them would be called a verse.  The verse is about pulling ivy (again – yard waste is collected every other week).  The poem is another one about the dance that we often go to on Friday nights.  I wanted to try an Italian form sonnet; the rhyme scheme is more demanding than the Shakespearean style I have used most often.
The constraints of the sonnet are: line length and rhythm (iambic pentameter); number of lines (14); rhyme scheme (Italian: abbaabba for the eight, with the following six related to each other – I’ve seen cdfcdf or, as I did here, cdcdcd).  Plus there’s an intent for the first eight lines to present a scenario and the finishing six to comment and conclude.
I like to let the rhythm vary a bit from the iambic.  I don’t like to turn a sentence inside out for a rhyme.  I don’t say something that’s not true for the sake of a rhyme.  Those are my added constraints.
I find that writing within constraints is interesting.  It sometimes helps bring out the meaning more clearly than writing without them.
I’ll share the sonnet tonight:
Ode to the dance
Stepping softly in between the shafts of sound
the trancing hum of chords reverberating
weft and warp in fabric of relating
threads of touch remembered and rewound
In dancing eyes fresh lines of light are found
a joyful glee of friends appreciating
the playful moves, the games of their creating
the sudden bursts of energy unbound
As music, words, and movement thus are one
so are we one in the reverberation
that still remains when all the music’s done
and we have voiced our final incantation
The web of our connection lightly spun
reprised thus in a quiet exaltation.


©Wendy Mulhern
March 27, 2011



Flying Turtles

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I let the breathing and the chords entrance
me in the inter-weavings of the dance
where arms could touch and bring another in
to an embrace that swayed as we’d begin
to move in single pulsing waves as one
to give each other’s touch permission and
each one a welcome not to be alone.
We moved in holy breath, entwining arms
the steady strength of backs against each other
or fingers brushed like butterflies together
and separated by a common wind
then stirred into a frenzied, twirling blend.
We leave our fears and judgment well away
So all can permeate us in their way.


©Wendy Mulhern
December 3, 2010



Touch

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I went to the Turtle Dance last night, and realized, towards the end of it, how I crave touch.  Not just the touch of one other, though that is nice, but the intertwined, complex touch of many people moving together.  
The Turtle Dance is a weekly ecstatic dance frequented by people who often express the conviction that they are part of an inexorable love revolution – yes, somewhat hippie – and sometimes, when I’m there, I can believe it.  Sometimes I go away feeling that no one there knows me or cares whether I’m there, though they seem to care about each other.  Other times I feel like I belong.  The difference is in whether I have been in a good, multi-person, intertwining dance.

A touch can be a chord, a hum, a tuning
A circuit closed, electric-lighting joy
The answer to my silent, nameless yearning
that carries me through darkness to the day
A touch can form a net of strong connection
A place to hold my fragile, new-formed soul
A current that delivers satisfaction
The DNA for growing strong and whole.
Though I may live without it, my deep hunger
will send me searching for it in its time
I’ll need to twine my tendrils with some others
and wind around to reach the light, and climb.
I’ll drink touch in for what it can provide;
My need for contact will not be denied.


©Wendy Mulhern
March 5, 2011