Her Little Dance

Poem By Rod Mendieta

Enraptured as I am,
Watching her little dance,
She's completely oblivious to my presence,
Plunging me in that existential void
Even though I'm well within
Her angle of vision
It's just her and her invisible daimon
In a cruel embrace,
Careening about, holding tight, sighing,
Then hopping, mincing steps
Like a marionette, quite childish,
Innocent, yet enticing, stabbing me,
With contemptuous green eyes
Seeing not me, but through me,
And her naked feet, and fluttering arms
Like wings.
She doesn't seem to be putting on an act:
Watching her is like sneaking a peek
At a child playing to herself
In front of a mirror, absent to the world
In playful disdain.
Oh please, will you acknowledge that I exist?
Will you cast your gaze,
However fleetingly
Towards this ailing fool?
Well yes… perhaps I don't exist.
At least not in her world,
Though I rather be a shadow,
A silent lurker, a fleeting scent
Softly breezing past
Her nymph-like thighs
And then disappearing into a void
Than be a fully fleshed-out man
In the distance, never catching a glimpse
Of her little dance.

Comments about Her Little Dance

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of MENDIETA

The Land Of Plenty

The old sturgeon held his fishing pole
Sitting well away from the busy shoal
Right on the pond's mossy bed.
He swung it once, swung with might,


Yours is wondrous Poetry
Laden with the ripe fruits of emotion,
The lustrous layers of your longing.
One should only very carefully tread

Airy Dogma

A word of caution, my friend
For it pains me so to see you
Raising castles with flimsy sticks
And fanning the flames of hope

The Island Of Your Smile

Oh, indeed it'd easier to abdicate
And walk out into exile in a cove of silence
Than to raise a bridge of words
And steal over the ocean of your indifference.

Her Kisses Drink Me Up Slowly

Her kisses drink me up slowly
Her mouth sipping keenly
Then playfully holding back,
Her moist lips thirsting,

Gratitude To A Black Bird

Black bird perched on the eave
Croaking a dissonant note amidst
So many Nightingales
Are you aware of my gaze?