Fresh post to the page, a new abstract poetry piece titled simply Dancing. This is an example of my experimenting with different flows, techniques and compositions. Hope you all enjoy it, please like and share if you do. ** Snow falls, it masses, atop a field of sticks and mud, Children run, gallantly, defiantly, crunching across the snow in search of love, Dust clouds lurch around the feet of an elder, And the children dance to the whim of the words he tells them, There are words etched into palms, That young men, cheeks ablaze with the lustful exuberance of youth, see as psalms, And high men on high towers just laugh, just laugh, At this foolishness of man, At the tragedy of a bottle washed ashore by waves run red with blood, At the sorrowful poetry of hands extended from beneath a flood, Of sticks and mud, Of pain and love. Sun shines, it gleams, over a pasture of flowers gold and blue, Women dance, rosemary dresses flailing in the wind, as only a woman could ever do, Dust clouds lurch around the feet of an elder, And the women run to the whim of the words she tells them, There are notes etched in oak, That lovers and haters trace tired fingertips over before they croak, And high men on high towers just laugh, just laugh, At this persistence of man, At the insistence of man to search every inch of the stars, At the wonder of hands behind the wheels of cars, That cough and sputter, Machines of curiousness and wonder. High men on high towers laugh, And cry, the cries, Ballerinas twirl in the wind, hot sand whipping at their ankles, cruel hands clasping at their thighs, Sticks and mud, Sticks and mud, Amass over graves of elders, Beneath the feet of children, At the whim of dancing women, Party to dust clouds dancing on the wind, Dancing to the whim, Of high men on high towers, Of a power within.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Jul 2013 16:27:39 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015