Dolphin Ballet Poem by Robert Charles Howard
Dolphin Ballet
A graceful water weaving dolphin
swirls wakes of gentle waves -
a white, silver blue phantom
shimmering in the noonday sun.
Gliding over the surface,
she dances an aquatic ballet
of corkscrew pirouettes
and majestic somersaults.
Then vanishes beneath the spray
to churns her engine upward -
soaring through the flaming hoop
to the oohs and applause
of a throng of short-sleeved hominids
bleachered beyond the rails.
Plunging into quiet depths,
she lingers for a moment
perhaps to recall the fresh sea air
and the borderless waters
in the golden days before the ships came.
January, 2007
Published in Oh, What a Tangled Web -edited Faslund and Euwait
We have dolphins here where I live in Wales, you have captured them very well in this poem, well done. Lynda x
Excellent write, Robert... you have to wonder if their freedom is worth the price of our entertainment. Well done! Brian
What a touching write! May these legendary creatures dance forever in your beautiful poem. Warm regards, Sandra
Starts one way, ends another way. 'So long, and thanks for all the fish.'
In the golden days before the ships came. You have descibed the dolphin to a pinnacle of more than reality. You have brought her from description, past the crowd of the curious, back to the home she dreams of. Freedom. Yet, how sad that a dolphin will arc, 'talk', the same in captivity, as in freedom. She knows. Great, once again! ! xxElysabeth
What an engaging exemplification filled with eloquent observations. I am glad to see this well-choreographed piece culminate with the humane line, 'In the golden days before the ships came.' Captured creatures for aquaria and circuses for our species' amusement perturbs me somewhat. Kind regards, Greg
A ballet to the music of the spheres - dolphins are wise to us, but we may never be wise to them. Rgds, Ivan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 8:05:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Beautiful, yet sad poem. Dolphins, like Orcas, are meant to be free. Excellent poem, well written. Marilyn