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Poisoned Poise

 Pity not the fairy tale damsels dozens

fallen prey to enchantment baffled

for now

 flamingo like stands the dancer in trance

The price paid for the secret portion to win in France.

In search, the petite dancer; for wicked wizard all

 Hoping for portion in dine, traps the challenger fall.

Seas and valleys; rural and urban

 Nowhere the sage

the dancer finds, to silence the ballet foe in flounce

So to the sea witch the hopeless seeks

Enigmas of the ocean bizarre, the ballerina peeks.

Sense of accomplished treats

Surfaces the crafty conspirator

In guise of a damsel in distress

on the eve of the competition

to solace the swansong of the sufferer in pretense.

Midsummer fairies of Shakespearean spell

Cast the hex on the schemer instead

My beloved

Fame! Envy! and Greed! I want not,

except for rest

from the motionless green trap:

The poisoned poise. 

By: Shashi Moore

P.S. It is not about winning, it’s how you play the game!


About Shashi Moore

Having covered half a century of my time on this Earth; enthusiastically creating an impression on my students has given me the much needed excuse to continue to live another few decades, if possible. An educationist by choice and a mother by grace of God.
This entry was posted in dance, My Writing, poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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