She moves fluidly on a circular stage.
Her style flawless,
she becomes the sparkle as the audience fades.
Slowly I become attractively restless
as my fear of expression fades.
I have to hold on to this moment of moving beauty.
I cannot afford to darkle,
So I hold my breath to soundly watch the beautiful dancer.
She is so beautiful and ferminine
yet I seem to capture the musculine excution of her dance,
she is a Perfect Muse, expressing her poetry in Dance
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Dancer by Don Mwaba )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- After Eden, Rachel Todd Wetzsteon
- Because We Closed Our Eyes, A.j. Binash
- three, laxami Cards
- For Colin McCahon [NZ Painter: 1919 -1987], Keith Johnson
- Why I never visited NZ from OZ in 1970, Keith Johnson
- Dark Lady, Keith Johnson
- Naboth's vineyard, Gert Strydom
- Those Girls, Keith Johnson
- Maybe there is a deep secret, Gert Strydom
- Final Training Flight, Keith Johnson