The Poetic Dance!
like a strife, he is in front of me
like a challenge, he always win off me
your words catching me like a punch
Me, poor of me! like a gentle kiss
Having in your double tongue the curse
he is the riper, brings the reaper to my heart
cold heart, ferocious, determinate
Took and shred my body, slashing my flesh
I was the clown, the war prize he lurking me
I gave the rhythm, the tune of the dance
he, the keeper of souls, the tower.
In a cage, tried to escape, he caught me
My words, without force
My intention running away
Dance of death to me
Dance of joy to him
What a terrible dance
I with my paws
him, lightness of feet
And the music slide over me
I just go follow by scent!
Who is the beast!
poem by Mirna Morgan
Added by Poetry Lover
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