Melody, Rhythm and Music
My toes are curledMy feet rock forth and back
My hands are busy
they tap and clap
That a piano should course
cool, so easy and flutter on to my lap
and slay me like a hunter does a deer,
sends the dishwasher dashing for
a corner deep.
My hips are swiveling.
They round and round;
dip and shake.
My arms?
I'm unaware they're there.
That a drum should pulse
and pound and pound
through my spine
as if I were an exalted Chief says:
"Baby, breeze it. You might hurt 'em."
My eyes are closed.
My body is lax.
Images; vague and dripping hue whisper sweet nothings in my ears.
That a harp
could purr it's voice...
That a tower bell
could ring and sing into my soul.
They send away the day.
Bring back the night swollen with my private, peaceful light.
Poetry by Rielle Vobi
Read 258 times
Written on 2007-10-10 at 22:51
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