Wednesday, June 1, 2011



dancing on the frescoed tombs
where the road starts
and the sidewalk ends
shaking and shattering in confusion
to the rhythm of her broken hip
as the scent of roses die
under the transcendental churchyard
she was a dancer

dancing on the blistered feet
where the blood flows
and the hurt never ends
entrancing the strain of lost music
without feeling or pain
as the smell of death arrives
above the smoking graveyard
she was a dancer


Laurie Kolp said...

Ooh... I love this one, Wayne! It's poignant and mysterious. The first line is brilliant...

Anonymous said...

Sad and mysterious.

I'm sorry you didn't like the piku form; I know it's not for everyone.

I do like that you took the prompt name and made something special from it. I always think it doesn't matter if we don't stick to the prompt; what matters is that we get enough from it to write a poem of any description.

Judie said...

Wayne, this is simply a wonderful piece! And your painting, "South of Saskatoon" has captured the landscape perfectly!! Bravo!!

Mad Kane said...

An excellent poem!
Mad Kane