M. L. Kiser Poet Tritina

Dance Is Done No Fun

The flame dances;
A charmed serpent weaves;
Back and forth to the music.

Air waves alive with music,
Make me want to dance;
As I sit here, poetry weaving.

I don’t rise, the room is weaving;
I lose the sound of the music;
I’m dizzy, nauseated; forget the dance.

I’m feeling faint again;
I have that darn flu.

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Caren Krutsinger April 8, 2019 at 12:22 AM I really hope you do not have the flu, my friend. Lovely poem that turned sinister at the end. M. L. Kiser April 8, 2019 at 5:25 AM No, I don't but, I did when I wrote this back a couple of winters ago; just getting around to typing up some of my poetry journals.

Andrea Dietrich April 7, 2019 at 3:06 PM oh oh, NO FUN when it's the flu that starts dancing with ya! M. L. Kiser April 8, 2019 at 5:26 AM It is a strange dancer! Thanks.

Demetrios Trifiatis April 6, 2019 at 4:28 PM Divine choreography my dearest, MLK! Spellbound! M. L. Kiser April 8, 2019 at 5:26 AM Many thanks.