Poem: ‘Dance of Life’

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Don’t hold out a torch
for me, I am not free of blame. This

is the dance of life where all are
culpable, soon to be drowned in

washes, the mangling gears
of pain. But who knows, these maelstroms

might be wormholes, revealing other
worlds and tableaux of night; dressings

of props across cold stone walls, taken
and rebuilt from dishevelled remains.

And where bards once played on stages,
hidden behind arras stitchings

and nom de plumes, we are all still
mere punters in pits macabre, holding

torches for celebrity – look at them, drunk,
high up with their gods of gold

© poem copyright David F. Barker 2013

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5 comments

  1. Soma Mukherjee · April 6, 2013

    What a Gorgeous Grunge David
    Punters and Puppets both, the craving for the ‘higher Gods’, the selling of the ‘lesser ones’

    Like

  2. Angela · April 6, 2013

    I love this, David. It is the kind of poem that keeps me reading as it creates a thirst inside me to see where it goes next. It feels rich and epic and sumptuous – like I am sitting in a theatre absorbing the lines.

    Like

  3. Ina · April 6, 2013

    This is very nicely put 🙂 William Shakespeare would have thought this so, I think…

    Like

  4. jane tims · April 6, 2013

    Hi. I like this, especially ‘punters in pits macabre’. Your ends of lines are interesting… each one is exactly right… Jane

    Like

  5. Three Well Beings · April 8, 2013

    Many layers here, Dave. I like the mention of wormholes. I find that an intriguing curiosity–thought provoking!

    Like

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