Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Dance

   

“Never give a sword to a man who cannot dance.”— Confucius

SOURCE

“Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame.”— W.B. Yeats

       Midweek Motif ~ Dance

As I was thinking about this Dance motif some lines of Leonard Cohen sang out loud in my mind:

          “Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

     Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in

    Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

                              Dance me to the end of love

                              Dance me to the end of love….”

The whole universe is in a dance mode. It would be interesting to see where you find that rhythm and beat to capture it in your lines.

It might be in the flow of a river; in rolling of waves; in raindrops; in the rhythm of seasons, day and night; in the flight of a bird; in birth; in death; in a stage performance.

There are numerous forms / types of dance. It would be lovely to read about them if you choose one of them to write about; or about the life of any well-known dancer.

And why not about dance costumes, props, masks and shoes?

Give today’s motif a unique interpretation of your like:

A few poems to share with you: 

The Dance

by William Carlos Williams

In Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess,
the dancers go round, they go round and
around, the squeal and the blare and the
tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles
tipping their bellies (round as the thick-
sided glasses whose wash they impound)
their hips and their bellies off balance
to turn them. Kicking and rolling
about the Fair Grounds, swinging their butts, those
shanks must be sound to bear up under such
rollicking measures, prance as they dance
in Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess.

SOURCE

326

by Emily Dickinson

I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge—
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze—
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so—

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention—easy—Here—
Nor any Placard boast me—
It's full as Opera— 

Here is another link to a poem by Langston Hughes:

Dream Variations

Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—

(Next week Magaly's Midweek Motif will be ~ not-so-old-fashioned 'Hobbies')