Stage Craft Poem by segun Johnson Ozique

She walked onto the rostrum
A torturing treacherous arena
Where most stoic would
Wither, swizzle or sizzle.
There, she built herself
A queenly castle;
A most beautiful chateau.

Appearing In an all black ensemble
Her exposed skin brown like candy
Her nose dipped and without blemish
Her eyes, a surrounding pale-gray
Black in the mid and dreamily seductive
Her lips, sweet and succulent
Her smile, dazzling, glorious, infectious

Yet, that was not the best of her:
Think of crisp delivery and articulacy
Think of whistling, mumbles and sensuality
Think of an imploring, connecting and beseeching ode
Think of raw animalistic, body and soul snatching tenor
She was my sing-song fantasy female sensations in one
The highest point of my poetic climax

Her grace, poise and swift gestures
Spoke volume:
A glance here; an extended expression there
All, of deep essence;
Spiritual gesticulations that once it caught the eyes,
Kept them captive,
Taking toils and toilsome out of mind.