|
|
 |
Darke County Senior Scribe
Dancing, fancy,
deadly clutch…
By Lois Wilson
Once again Senior Scribe Poet Laureate Lois Wilson is on top of the
season with her insightful look at the important events of the day.
This time it’s dancing. Wilson offers four poems, each addressing a
different look at… dancing! This isn’t seasonal. It’s generational.
Which one reminds you of you during your dancing days?
Wilson's completed set - five volumes - of published poetry is now
available and is offered as a fundraiser for the Senior Scribes
Scholarship Fund. Enjoy great poetry and help a local youngster attend
college. For additional information, contact
editor@countynewsonline.org.
Wilson notes this idea came from the latest Robinson Chronicles column…
I Don’t Dance. Check it out here.
TOO-TOO TUTU
Prancing Nancy acting antsy
Shows us dancing is her fancy.
On her toe tip, a pirouette,
A graceful twirl one can’t forget.
An arabesque, a deep plié—
We love to watch her grand jeté.
She leaps to a sonatina,
This twelve-year-old ballerina.
© 2015 Lois E.
Wilson
UNDER A CLOUD
Yes, caught in the drought’s deadly clutch,
He thought there might be a chance.
He taught others an old rain dance;
They topped it with a tribal touch.
What he sought rose fast to his knee,
Water as far as all could see.
Everyone knew that it was such—
They all had danced much too much.
© 2015 Lois E.
Wilson
HE WHO HESITATES
When he first saw her,
His heart skipped a beat.
Her beautiful face
Held a smile so sweet.
Should he move closer?
He tried to decide
And managed to calm
Butterflies inside.
Finally he strode
Across the dance floor.
Before he reached her,
She’d left through the door.
He could not find her;
He looked everywhere.
His lovely vision
Had vanished in air.
© 2010 Lois E.
Wilson
NOT MY FORTE
I try to sing
Each bluesy song.
I raise my voice
In plaintive tone.
My high notes sting;
The pitch is wrong.
It is my choice
To sing alone.
At times I’d dance
To rhythmic beat.
I’d twirl and tap
Across the floor.
It’s not by chance
My clumsy feet
Caused a mishap.
I dance no more!
© 2015 Lois E.
Wilson
|
|
|
<
|
