The Poet

A musician of rythmic words,

On stage,



hidden behind a mask.

Off to Venice,

London Globe,

Around the World,

As each one,

Captured the music to paper,

Hidden below the heart,

Melodies and vibrations,

Tickling and tingling,

As each one plays the keys.

Waving the pencil baton,

Conducting the orchestra,

Softly, softly,

Louder and louder,

Bang a surprise.

A tear of sadness,

A gasp of horror,

An eye full of thought,

A tragedy,

A romantic waltz.

As the baton meets the music sheet,

Catching the feelings,

As they move in harmony,

Faster, faster, faster.

Shout the audience,

A fox trot,

A cha cha cha,

A rumba or zumba,

A belly dance,

A rock and roll,

Up and down,

A thrill of excitement,

A twist and a jive,

The charleston or a

Seductive tango.

A ballroom filled with music,

The poets of today,

Yesterdays music and,

Tomorrow’s symphonies,

Enjoy the music and dance.

The Poet.

By Natasha


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