Richie Branner

The Dancer - Poem by Richie Branner

Take her hand, she will lead you all
Like Cinders starring at the ball
Paint the picture from flesh tone palette
And watch in awe this sensuous talent

With devoted fans, it sets the stage
Lights shine on this blossoming age
Incandescence, dance on fire
Flames of passion, web of desire

Naked arms, young bosom sways
Perfected moves, hair ablaze
Exotic heat of crotch and hips
The serpent bites with pouting lips

Burning potion on her tongue
Magic gyration, vibrant fun
Fragrant spice of youth and lust
Perfumed arena of nicotine dust

A graceful swift upon her feet
Forbidden fruit tastes so sweet
Fairy princess in candy town
Enigmatic look, no smile or frown

See flesh and bones only fed on vice
Trained to seduce and entice
Hawks swoop down and touch her dress
She removes her veil and often vest

Fingers try to get inside
This blind kitten is on a hide
Hear the whisper of selfish thought
This little gem has been bought

They feed from pools of innocence
Satisfaction has great expense
Petals stripped off this perfect rose
No time for drama, afflicted woes

Through the mind she does not stir
She's backstage when they enter her
There is no sound, she does not scream
She hides away in that dance dream

The show host tells her never say
What happened here on this lovely day
Like a broken toy, you are left in chest
Until the witch is re-casting guest

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Poem Submitted: Monday, February 1, 2010

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