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The Wedding

Wedding Night in Raqqa

Cyclonic violet vision

Etheral and immortal

She swirls her sand baked torso.

Evoking the initial collision of primordial seed,

Swathed in gossamer purple veils,

Writhing to the stomping and clapping

Of jeweled ankles

And henna stained hands.

The tribes have united for my wedding to their son.

I ,foreign and naive, swoon to the power

Of ancient rhythm and verse,

Ripe, fertile gestures,

Pregnant with  throbbing pulses

And scattered beats of flailing arms,

Bleating tongues, spinning robes.

A cacophony of incessant chant rose from the dancing women,

Growing louder, feverish in their pleasure

And the nearness of release.

I join in the dancing.

They swath me in voiles and lead me to the center

I dance, and I succumb to my wedding night in Raqqa.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 3/19/2019 5:14:00 AM
beautiful poem and poetic expression
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Date: 9/13/2014 7:57:00 PM
A beautiful vision. I feel the beat in my bones.
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Date: 9/3/2012 10:09:00 PM
This vsion and tale is what I would hope to encounter in Spain or Morrocco where the flamingo & Gypsey unite with Arabic sensualities to deliver mystique and romance - once again Brenda, brilliant, unprententious use of the English language and a very intelligent spacing to the lines as well - you make it so easy and wonderful to be in this moment with you - J.A.B. %
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Date: 4/25/2011 6:09:00 AM
Beautiful tale. Check out my Beach House Girl.
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