andave_ya
08-06-2007, 03:00 PM
A Sky of Late Summer is actually the title of a book that was summarised on the back of another book and I thought it would be fun to make a poem out of it. This poem is a bit different from the others I've written; it's a bit more structured.
Under a sky of late summer,
An African woman raises her hands and dances.
Drums accompany her fluid, graceful moves.
Her hips sway to a heavy rhythm while
Her voice sings an unearthly song that rises to the sky.
Under a sky of late summer,
An Irishwoman raises her hands and dances.
A fiddle bursts out a tune to match the intensity of her emotions.
Her hair flips as she jumps.
Her voice a wordless cry that echoes through the trees of the forest.
Under a sky of late summer,
An Arabic woman raises her hands and dances.
A sitar thrums to the beat of the blood in her veins.
Her belly moving in a sensuous and exotic belly dance.
Her voice the long, ululating cry that has sounded through the ages.
Under a sky of late summer,
An Englishwoman raises her hands and dances.
The notes of a piano are borne in on the wind.
Her hands clasp those of an imaginary partner.
Her voice singing a pretty folk tune that gladdens the heart.
Under a sky of late summer,
I raise up my hands and dance.
For me no music but the music of the wind, bringing echoes of a time forgot.
My feet tap, unable to resist what I hear, until
The song grows in my heart and my mouth forms the words of a song that has become my own.
Under a sky of late summer,
An African woman raises her hands and dances.
Drums accompany her fluid, graceful moves.
Her hips sway to a heavy rhythm while
Her voice sings an unearthly song that rises to the sky.
Under a sky of late summer,
An Irishwoman raises her hands and dances.
A fiddle bursts out a tune to match the intensity of her emotions.
Her hair flips as she jumps.
Her voice a wordless cry that echoes through the trees of the forest.
Under a sky of late summer,
An Arabic woman raises her hands and dances.
A sitar thrums to the beat of the blood in her veins.
Her belly moving in a sensuous and exotic belly dance.
Her voice the long, ululating cry that has sounded through the ages.
Under a sky of late summer,
An Englishwoman raises her hands and dances.
The notes of a piano are borne in on the wind.
Her hands clasp those of an imaginary partner.
Her voice singing a pretty folk tune that gladdens the heart.
Under a sky of late summer,
I raise up my hands and dance.
For me no music but the music of the wind, bringing echoes of a time forgot.
My feet tap, unable to resist what I hear, until
The song grows in my heart and my mouth forms the words of a song that has become my own.