flamingos dance

movingfingermovingfinger Posts: 117
Music,
with notes and words that even the birds, but not flamencos or pink flamingos, have seemed to neglect.

Dancing,
with music or sex, like two intermittently tangent lines with lovely flamencos or pink flamingos, depending on your taste.

Sex,
like dancing, but with less passion and more fury, or hair and even feathers, finds itself crawling through synapses of four letter poems.

I don’t know what is more fun,
Friday nights
or
Saturday mornings.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it

-- Omar Khayyam
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • Ms. HaikuMs. Haiku Posts: 7,265
    This poem pulls then releases; there's that tension like a dance on fire. I read it twice just off the bat because I wanted to go through the motions again and again . . .
    There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
    The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
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