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| © Rumbadance.org - common domain |
Dark
filigree, I trace its turns,
hold
its pattern on my eyelids;
stamp
you out
you out
in silver that falls
like
snowshells from a sterling spoon.
I
smell the salt of you
in
the dark; my heartbeats rush.
My
yearning twists like
wrought
iron on a balcony
high
above the sea.
Waves
kiss the cape; their foam
cuts
into sand and repeats.
Darts
shoot into dark heat,
curve
like the shape of your hips
like the shape of your hips
that
summon me from sleep.
Spray
Spray
flies with wings to
my
core, my need.
I
feel the urge
at
center and yet
my
eyes still closed
hold
a lacework image there.
Your
arms, like breezes cool;
then
passion bursts, crashing
red
a-
long my nerves -- when I
a-
wake and pull you into me.
We
dance as one
you, me
the waves, the sky, the stars
that
flame the galaxies.
Slow
we wait, and fall apart
when
again the pull of moon
to
sea, you to me and
once
more
you are mine.
you are mine.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2/14/2012 * All
Rights Reserved
whew..nice and passionate gay...so all the repair trouble didn't keep you from writing up a dance for us...and now i want to.....dance...smiles
ReplyDeleteoo la la...perfect title gay...haha and your form plays so well with the words dancing itself...um and a bit steamy as well...smiles.
ReplyDeleteGay,
ReplyDeleteCan't help keeping tempo with the movements right till the end! Great write!
Hank
The pull of moon to sea, so true.
ReplyDeleteWhew...what a romantic dance...full of sensuality...I love the words weaving across the page too ~
ReplyDeleteHappy Hearts day ~
Give me the name of your dance instructor:)
ReplyDeleteI love to dance ~ beautiful ~ нαρρу ναℓєηтιηє'ѕ ∂αу ♥ нєℓєηα
ReplyDeleteTruly romba rotic indeed, your words danced a flow all their own.
ReplyDeleteI love how the form adds to the beat of the dance. Very skillful writing with powerful imagery.
ReplyDeletewonderful poem. cascade poem with structure!
ReplyDeleteThe form ecentuates the the untameable animal that is love! Excellent use of words in this tumbling poem. I got the crashing sea- the smell of salt (dare I say- the scent of a passionate encounter?) ingot visions of all the powerful elemental images you describe here- all of which I empathise with- after all- having been fortunate enough to be in love myself- all of these things are the perfect vehicles for something that is very hard to put into words- nicely done!
ReplyDeleteO, you clever poet! I put on my red dancin' shoes and did that rhumba reading it aloud again. The form is perfect! Dancing in my seat.:)) and Hot!! Great job,!! Wooo wooo!
ReplyDeleteI love images of the coastal shoreline with its erratic, or should I say erotic, response to the wave's unruley response on the jagged edges of shore! I like!
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful this is, Gay! The lines dance across the screen with all the passion of the rumba. This is a coup.
ReplyDeleteThe physical form of the poem evokes the picture so well.
ReplyDeletePassionate, sensual, as this music and dance is and should be.
I would only make one small adjustment here: "crushing peppers along my nerves" would certainly awake!
You awake all senses here, you can't help it, Gay. Rumba is from the earth, up through the body and out into the Cosmos. I can't think of a more passionate dance than this...even the Argentine Tango pales because it is too structured.
The musicality of this poem is carried by the simple wording, because who needs complex terms, words when the essence of the dance is sex.
The hips don't lie.
Which it is. And Glad of It!!
Lady Nyo
This is lovely and sensual .
ReplyDeleteOh, the sensual heat of the dance plays through your words. Wonderful work. I love the presentation.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you've captured the rhythm and flow of the dance in your poem and in your choice of words. I can almost feel the music...
ReplyDeleteThis was the perfect form for a rumba -- jointed at the metric hips and joined as the dance spiraled down (and up) into the inexorable conclusion. Yes, the dance is all. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteThanks to everyone who has stopped by. As you know I'm in Arlington, have seen my physicians, and have been blessed to find the best construction/painter ever as far as I'm concerned. He has done every little odd job I needed and three big important ones like saving my bay window and pretty much rebuilding it. So, it has left me little time again!
ReplyDeleteI wanted to say regarding this poem that I wrote it left side aligned. I wasn't pleased with it. I had an idea that it would start as a dream. The rumba is a slow dance that to me sounds "dreamy", the movements are seductive but not wanton.
It would wake to an encounter whether a dance or more I only wanted to hint at. The rumba is odd in that you don't take a step on the first beat of the measure. It's danced to a slow 4/4 and the first beat is on 4 with a "hold" all the way through the dance on 1. So I tried to mirror that with the one syllable then break line to the next line to continue. That helped. The poem needed to move so I treated the page as a dance floor and moved it around. I was happy "enough" with the imagery. Where it may miss, I believe is in more innovative metaphors. The usage is all right, but not novel. But it was an ambitious project and this is where it is right now. I don't doubt that it will go through some revisions. Thank you again.
oh so passionate... I see you've been in the mood for a lil' dancing huh? I love the swinging of the words! :)
ReplyDeleteTalk about motion in words! Gay, this is spectacular. You rhythm is superb.
ReplyDeleteSorry, meant to write "poetry in motion" (not motion in words).
ReplyDeleteBravo!
lovely-- fluid, poetic motion. enjoyed this all through! C.
ReplyDeleteGay, You got me "in the mood"! I will be dancing tonight and feeling the heat of my aerobics and zumba class! Thanks for the head start! Wonderful write!
ReplyDeleteWe used to call that "horizontal dancing."
ReplyDelete:)
wow! In all departments. Formatting most def included! Standout
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed the sensuality in this.
ReplyDeleteThe way you mirror the structure of the dance's rhythm in the shape of the lines is really interesting; a suspensefulness was definitely coming through even without my knowing just what a rumba sounded like (sad! but I know a tango!). I think the imagery in the first two stanzas seized me absolutely the most -- the lovely transience of snow and silver spoon, the powerful delicacy of ironwork, the salt. One thing I notice is that the single-word lines sometimes begin emphatically, with accented heavyweight attention-grabbers (dark, hold, stamp, I, iron), and sometimes more meekly, without accent (like, in, my). The first of these two are more compelling to my ear, stopping me in my tracks rhythm-wise, and then thrusting toward the next line. So if "curve/like the shape of your hips/that/summon me from sleep" became "curve/like the shape of your/hips/that summon me from sleep" then there'd be the suspense-and-whoosh of not end-stopping the line, plus the WHAM of "hips".
ReplyDeleteThanks Kathy for pointing that out. Yes, there should be a 4th beat emphasis and when I re-formatted the poem, I thought I'd made a mental note to look at that. Sadly, I apparently got distracted and forgot. It would definitely strengthen the poem if each first syllable of a stanza were accented. The dance is slow but the step is always after a hold. It is not stamped so there's not tango drive to it, it is mellifluous. Fluid in the upper body and the hips sway side to side with each beat.
DeleteForm and felling in pefect harmony. Great job!
ReplyDeletehey gay - what a fantsatic title,and the drizzle effect... i adore the rhumba, such a perfect expression of love and wow, the example on the vid is a m a z i n !
ReplyDeletea difficult objective here gay - to capture or translate the movement and majesty - the physicality and pace... but - by jove i think you ve got it :)
Che bellezza-- I love the rumba, and your delicious poem captures it perfectly. One though I had about the balcony was that perhaps the phrase wrought iron might serve you better... I loved:
ReplyDeleteDark
filigree, I trace its turns,
hold
its pattern on my eyelids;
stamp
you out
in silver that falls
like
snowshells from a sterling spoon.
Glorious! xxxj