Like Isadora

Cherry

By Bee

Fri, 14 Nov 2014
  • 3820 reads
19 comments
 

Oh, to dance like Isadora Duncan -
my head thrown back 
and arms outstretched, lashes long 
and cheeks sucked in all sunken.

Bare footed I'd interpret music with my heart.
I'd spin until I fell to earth with angels wings 
and beads, and things like silken scarves.

Let's go wild, I'd say, while time will let us
express our dearest wishes 
joying us across life's stage, 
love leaping from the solar plexus.

I would not wish to live her life, 
with sad confusion,
loss and strife, 

and some day I would say, enough's enough
and stop before my bloody head 
was nearly severed
from being strangulated by my scarf.

But what would I give to glide 
in Grecian gowns 
pleating all about my shins as I spun round
and round...

sober now and then quite drunken
I'd let my spirit free and you would see 
me dance 
just once like Isadora Duncan.  

Certificate PG
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by scratch on

crying  Yes... and what a way to go.

 

Submitted by Bee on

The tears made me laugh and the cherries made me smile. Thanks scratch.

Bee

Submitted by scratch on

yes

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

An elegant piece that raised all the wild ambition I still foster to get my leotard on and shock out to FAME. It's not without regret but there's that girl's flame we all know and recognise. We just use it for writing now. It still burns in the belly. 

 

 

Submitted by Bee on

Get that leotard out, turn your best music up and dance your heart out, Vera. 

Bee

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

You describe the longing for free gliding movement like dreams of flying high with eagles, starlings or skylarks, or swimming with the dolphins and fish shoals.
(line 5, is 'of'' meant to be there?) Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Bee on

Oh thanks Rhiannon. It wasn't meant to be there at all. I changed it from something else and accidently didn't take it out. Your words convey a great sense of freedom, and yes, how wonderful the feeling, if only in dreams. I sense you have a poem there in the making. 

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Couldn't agree more with Vera's words, Bee.  Isadora Duncan, my erstwhile icon...and this, my kind of poem.  Well done on the cherries.  Richly deserved.

tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

Thank you, Tina. You've made me go all proud.

Bee

Submitted by Denzella on

Hello Bee,

Soon as i saw the title for this one I had to read it. Wow!  I should haver known you would be able to create something special.  I like to think mentioning the dancer 's name in your other piece of work (prose) prompted this response.   I hope so.  This is lovely it's written in a way that makes this reader feel as if    she is dancing  ratheer than reading through this.poem. 

'Joying us across life's stage.'  

Loved the whole poem but loved that line.

Moya

 

Submitted by Bee on

Moya, I was so hoping you would read this and be surprised. Of course, it is totally inspired by your comment - I hadn't thought of her before you mentioned her. Was thinking of adding a comment about inspiration to title but decided to wait. Really pleased you liked. Thank you. 

Bee x

Bee

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Bee

This is a lovely floaty sort of poem - a real dreamy quality to it. Have you been watching Strictly?

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Bee on

No, I don't watch 'Strictly', but I should do - I do love dancing. Really pleased you like this. 

Thanks Jean. 

Bee

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Alluring

Submitted by Bee on

You do chose the best words. 

Thanks Elsie.

Bee

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Lovely!  Dancing is the only exercise I really do - by myself at home with no witnesses. Uplifting poem, if ony we could have the best bits of life.

Submitted by Bee on

There's such a freedom and release about dancing unobserved. And anyone can do it, and doing it, we  can be anyone - even, Lord forbid, ourselves. Glad you found it uplifting, Philip. 

Keep dancing!

Bee

Submitted by RJF on

Wonderfulpoem Bee, you really capture the movement and magic of dance in your words. The moral of the story of course: never sit in an open top car with a silk scarf on. Poor Isadora. Rxx

 

Submitted by Bee on

Thanks R, I won't.

Bee