Ah, the passion of the throbbing rhythm
The heated waltz with a flaming blend
 
The crying guitars and bleeding fingers
The busy feet and the song that lingers
 
The intensive eyes and the look of steel
The song within a restless story to reveal
 
The dance that was born in zealous tears
The steady pulse that grinds thru’ the years
 
The frenzy of the music that never stops
The dance that goes on after twilight drops
 
The sweet pounding that falls thru’ the floors
The drifting along the flow without any oars
 
The easy rivers with nowhere to run to
The rapid rhythm that got up and grew
 
The silent rage that drives the passion
The music that stirred the dancers to action
 
The dance that grew into a rhythmical dream
The dancers are ready, so begin the beguine.

  • 1
  • 2
  •  
  •  
Login to comment...
david schieres
almost 2 years

I will pass a bill in congress where we must re etch the letters on our graves. There is a lot of zeal there. I thought it got dour at the end but no. Can i refer to it as an invitation to dance with a woman un boleroed?

Nelson D Reyes
almost 2 years

The poem is so smoothly written I could dance the Bolero without the music. Every single line makes you dance like a pro together with your partner who dances the second line. Imagine when they begin the beguine! Magical!
Fave. Love. Thanks Robert.

Liked or faved by...

Nelson D Reyes Renata Martin
Email

Other works by Robert L. Martin...

Some poets followed by Robert L. Martin...

Sparkle Poetics Lxnnnie Rutledzh Paula Lietzenburgerstrasse Vic Castle Lucy Pendragon