The Dance | Neal Hall

Poet and pen
entree’d dancers, the grand pas,
paired palm to palm
poised the parchment page
pose in statuesque arabesque
their await, their moment, their muse,
when then –
 
they dance

poet and pen
ballerino palm to palm the ballerina
fluent eloquence attended in a cappella
 
they dance . . . allegro, centered within beamed
rings of frolicking incandescence, penning the paper’s floor

amour’d they dance in metaphors,
luminous well-turned lunar’d jewels transcribing
the gravity, their moored embrace,
pulled one the other
 
they dance
choreographed pirouettes of couplets coupled in conceit,
the balladry of familial frailties, Greek tragedies,
gallantry’s paucity staged theater’d love and peace,
hate and war, poet and pen
tour en l’air to bear their suffered soul in
literary lyrical leaps, metered a time, rhythm’d, rhymed
calligraphy’d colloquies of poetic musicality
 
they dance

the poet, his pen,
the pen, its poet
they dance  
onward, day ward past the grand pas
well into incandescent lit night

they dance

Neal Hall writes on Indian Review.