Black Swan

Black Swan

See her glide across liquid fields of blue,
The shape of water morphing in her tracks.
Through dappled clouds, bright rays of light shine through
As dewdrops glisten on her feathered back.

Dark silhouette, epitome of grace, 
She shadow dances from dusk until dawn.
A sweet ballet, accolades to embrace:
Proud moments in the life of a black swan. 

But seasons in the sun fade too quickly;
Youth and beauty were never meant to last.
Your essence lingers in my memory,
Until the final curtain call is cast.

Good night darling, in morning may you wake
From golden slumbers on this pristine lake.

Colleen Keller Breuning © 2021
May 8, 2021

I wrote this Shakespearean sonnet after being inspired by the beautiful Swan Lake Theme by Tchaikovsy. This musical piece brings back such wonderful childhood memories of listening to vinyl records with my Dad and my Mom …. we all loved Tchaikovsky music!! Where does the time go? *happy tears*

Happy Mother’s Day to all Moms out there! Sending love and peace!
xoxo Colleen

Ecrits Blogophilia Week 8.14 Topic: A Proud Moment
Hard Bonus (2 points): Incorporate 2 Beatles Song Titles (Golden Slumbers, Good Night)
Easy Bonus (1 Point): Mention an Oscar Winning Movie (The Shape of Water, Black Swan)


This Week’s Pic
  1. Seasons in the sun (in blog)
  2. Silhouette (in blog)
  3. Shadow Dancing (in blog)
  4. Jumping for Joy
  5. Sunset
  6. Leap of faith
  7. Forever Young
  8. Tumbling
  9. School’s out for summer
  10. Greeting dawn with open arms

Topic:  Tyler    Pic:  Irene

She Who Dances in Snow

She Who Dances in Snow

Black velvet drapes of dusk
cloak moss covered hills.
The air exhales its chill
as February blooms beneath
a burgeoning gibbous moon.

Wisps of white crystalline
fall — leaping, swirling,
around glowing streetlights
like vagrant moths
courting open flames.

Here! I am here,
the snow falling around me,
falling down like soothing rain,
manna from heaven,
sweet nectar on my tongue.

Thoughts of grandeur
swell inside my mind,
my heart in relevé,
I dance in the gravel driveway
in a pas de deux with the lamppost.

Mr. Stone is taking out the trash,
dragging his bins to the curbside
on this bitter Tuesday night.
He leans against the western wind,
catching a glimpse of my performance.

I pause from my unabashed reverie,
exclaiming, “Snow! It’s snowing!”
as my new neighbor shakes his head,
pondering his odds, wondering his fate
of landing another loon on the block.

Then, with the delight of a child,
I do cartwheels in the fields of white,
waltzing the night away with Old Man Winter.
Yes, I am that crazy Southern girl,
the belle of the winter ball…

She who dances in snow.

Colleen M. Breuning © 2012
February 7, 2012