“ The Dancer ”
– be the devil upstairs –
I’d know the music
Just by listening,
To the patter
On the floor above,
And the pulse
That cajoles her feet,
As she capers
To a mystifying beat,
Like it matters
To the dancer,
In whose rhythm
With melodic flair,
She so adorns
Be the devil upstairs,
To mirror,
The center of a storm
Frenzied to a level,
That shan’t be mistaken
As the dancer who conforms…
She’s the devil I can tell
Tho follow I with ease,
For her dance casts a spell
Which leads me to believe,
I’m destined to her hell
If she decides to leave,
Yet just so I can listen
To the rhythmic patters,
Bent by that devil upstairs
Be the dancer who so matters!
inspired in Vence, Fr.
written in Sweetsburg PQ.
April 21, 2003
Poetry on a canapé 
Oh, the dancer mesmerizes with music and body movements. “To a mystifying beat.” “The center of a storm”. – vivid imagery. Compelling us to become immersed in the unfolding scene.
Thanks, Rebecca…The idea ergo the dominance of dance, goes back generations in my personal world, not to mention the passion for and of it which I inherited, has never ceased to occupy a very important place in my life. Thus so as music, dance has been a constant and significant influence. Hence no surprise that it is part of my writing, even as the actual consequence of the patter on the floor above. A disturbance I would find to turn into a poem. Et voilà!
Jean-Jacques
>
I enjoyed this poem about your devil upstairs dancer! These are my favorite lines:
I’m destined to her hell
If she decides to leave,
A pleasure that you found this to your liking. Your singling out those two particular lines begs one question, n’est-ce pas…!
Jean-Jacques
>
Indeed it does!
Enjoy…!