Carol Richard Weyler Poet Rhyme

Rabid

    Faint recognition; 
     ambiance, for hire,
    this job is precarious,
     but can she steal the show?
    Holding the position;
     mistress of high wire,
    toes point nefarious,
     to the sweating mob below.
    
    Concentration mesmerizing;
     every eye transfixed,
    tickets funded by the dream
     on the back of the artiste'.
    And beautiful is sighing,
     "Let 'em have their kicks-"
    she picks up the balance beam,
      silencing the beast.

    This is holy treason;
     lost in  deep translation,
    corseted travesty,
     compelled by safety net.
    Furtively she blows a kiss;
     to conquer hesitation,
     winks, knowing gravity
     hasn't eaten yet.

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Dana Smith October 22, 2011 at 6:20 PM You have a lot of talent, I'm looking forward to reading more of your work.. feel free to let me know when you have another poem up.. welcome to PS. Take care