Monday, March 14, 2011

The Game of Fire and Feathers

Amid the blaze of fire,
she dances alive,
bowed down upon the presence
of fiery creatures,
which, casted, burn and smoke
and cry their spirits out
majestically following the music’s flow.
A feathered mask hides her face,
and conceals more than a girl’s game,
for, yes! she dances alive,
but in her steps she carries
the whole weight of the World
finely woven in the colours
of feathers of dead ancient birds. 


8 comments:

Refuge Insomniac said...

I saw this vision in my mind, which you painted - the fire and girl dancing. A tribal beat in the dark of night - a lone figure dancing… Thank you for inviting me, I enjoyed your poem!

william said...

you painted a very cool picture here friend, bravo..

Charles Bivona said...

I just like this.

The Balladeer said...

A fine brief poem. Can I just ask why "casted" instead of "cast"? The past tense of to cast is cast, as in yesterday I cast a stone into the stream.

DD Symms said...

Thanks for the invite to read this. I read it a few times and appreciate how you crafted the imagery. I'd love to see this expanded a bit with some more of the surroundings. Which means I'd like to see more like this.

Nicely done.

What inspired it?

Sean Paul Potterson said...

Thanks all of you for the comments!!

I love to recieve your feedback

Siah Tichaona said...

enjoyed the language at the end. reminded me of temple of my familiar.

slpmartin said...

Really love the images this poem creates...magical!