Vouloir Dire (to want to speak)

Pirouette, en point; tucked and turning,
your arms balance upon one another.
Folded Russian doll, your face is carved;
cherub red smile crushing dead eyes.

En Arrière; spiralling limbs thrusting
upward and out in a poetry of motion.
Dance in reverse of thought.

Music murmurs beneath the floorboards,
rising sounds between polished nails.
Tchaikovsky plays chord against note;
The Sleeping Beauty awakens.

Assemblé; foisting tortured toes
up once more to the joining.
The gloss squeaks, you teeter;
a pin wheel clutching silent pleas.

Silk whispers against your skin,
stuttering pleats puckering
around your thighs.
The ribbon of your slipper unravels.

Adage. The conversation holds.

Ahhh... this poem is much better than the last one I critiqued.

Two things!


Heat touches your lips
as breath gushes past.
The taste of sweat is cool;
rolling along your tongue,
to be blown back as fitful air.

^ There is something wrong with this stanza. I can't really see what is happening in my mind. That is, I see her breath going past, when you say, "The taste of sweat is cool..." and so on, then I get lost because it doesn't really show me what is going on. I don't know. It seems too disconnected from the dance. You're focusing on her mouth region when she is dancing, and that doesn't seem quite right.

The Sleeping Beauty is awakening.

^ I would change that to "The Sleeping Beauty awakens." It sounds prettier that way.

Still! Nice work!

Oh goody. I've found out what it is I like about your poems...they're the feel good variety. I'm in a good mood today so I'll congratulate you for doing what Coldplay does best.....make me feel better. Otherwise I would have just told you to be mature and put grease paint on your stuff to give it a dark tone.

I see in this one how you give an emotionless and graceful spring to your lines. It's very grand....it's like a tribute to art and beauty but (and I know I've been telling this to people once in while) I don't think I'd remember this poem for long except (and this is specially for you) for the ending. I thought the way it wrapped up rescued it from being a simple snapshot of wasting beauty...of motion without real motion. Unless I've been sleeping, I guess this is a departure from your normal poetry.

What else can I say....your flow and metre was well patterned even if instinctual.

"En Arrière; spiralling limbs thrusting
upward and out in a poetry of motion.
Dance in reverse of thought."

well put. This is a very physical and well oiled poem....maybe try to get the reader to think the way you did in the above lines. I'd say it's good, not your best, mind you.