pause, thump

[CdnReader]

.

pause, thump
pause, thump
the drumbeats pierce the darkness
pause, thump
pause, thump

peering through the jungle
parting the drooping palm fronds
that shield the clearing from prying eyes

pause, thump
pause, thump
pa-dump pa-dump pa-dump
the rhythm changes and grows
as others join in

the dancers emerge
all feathers, skins, beads
feet shuffling, raising clouds of dust
then the voices of the women
mad ululations that add more madness to the madness

faces lifted to the sky
mouths twisted in painful grimaces
as though every sound may be their last

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cdn/21jan07
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[PrinceMyshkin]

I love the particulars in this, and the alternation of specified objects and mere onomatopaia!

[ampoule]

faces lifted to the sky
mouths twisted in painful grimaces
as though every sound may be their last

Hmmm....I wonder what prompted this poem. A show? A program? Just your imagination? I absolutely adore that last stanza for I understand that grimace. Singers often have terrible expressions on their faces in order to get a perfect sound out of their mouths. My embouchure always makes me look like a monkey...no offense to monkeys.
The stanza also says something about all artists, whether singing, playing, painting, writing....like each sound or picture or word may be our last.

[CdnReader]

I love the particulars in this, and the alternation of specified objects and mere onomatopaia!

Thanks, Jer. It was fun to write! :)


Hmmm....I wonder what prompted this poem. A show? A program? Just your imagination? I absolutely adore that last stanza for I understand that grimace. Singers often have terrible expressions on their faces in order to get a perfect sound out of their mouths. My embouchure always makes me look like a monkey...no offense to monkeys.
The stanza also says something about all artists, whether singing, playing, painting, writing....like each sound or picture or word may be our last.

Amp, the inspiration for the poem arises from a personally witnessed event when I was in Africa, expanded and imagined in a different setting. The final stanza does reflect the unusual mouth movements that produce the ululations, but is also intended as a political statement on the day-to-day despair experienced by the majority of African women.

[ampoule]

Amp, the inspiration for the poem arises from a personally witnessed event when I was in Africa, expanded and imagined in a different setting. The final stanza does reflect the unusual mouth movements that produce the ululations, but is also intended as a political statement on the day-to-day despair experienced by the majority of African women.

Oh yes, I absolutely see that! When I was in junior high school, we sang a song called 'My Child Is Gone' in eight parts! It was a haunting and beautiful song of an African mother and her stolen child. I have looked and looked for the sheet music because I can't remember all of the words and they were so important. I know the song is not about their day-to-day despair but it speaks to the depth of their despair.

[CdnReader]

If you ever uncover it, I'd love to hear it.... Thanks. :)

[Pendragon]

I had a friend who went to the Republic of Haiti every year as a missionary during the infamous Papa Doc years. This sounds like one of his stories of a Voodoo ritual. Also reminds me of Lee Falk's cartoon hero, The Phantom, and The Deep Woods.

[CdnReader]

Hi, Pen. I actually got to dance along with the women while in Malawi. It was a magical moment that I'll never forget, and it changed the course of my life. :)