The Dancer's Way
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
I stare at potentials
Wondering which scuffed tile
Will give way beneath my foot
Whether to move at all
Or whether lack of motion
Will be my undoing
It should be easy this calculus
Simple tabulations and curves
Growth and expansion
Piled on Cartesian lines
Yet I hesitate before moving
Dreaming of hopping across
Not with slow careful prodding
But dancing with life's joy
It is those dreams that hold me
Wondering if maybe today
I can find the dancer's way
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Mike C. Fletcher, the VRPlumber, is a philosopher of design turned computer programmer based in Toronto, Canada. He works primarily in the Python programming language, and maintains a large number of Open Source software packages. You can reach him at: mcfletch@vrplumber.com.
Honey on 02/13/2006 1:16 a.m. #
For Someone Else<br />
<br />
I look into the mirror<br />
No black goddess hair frames my face<br />
Perfect mahogany skin<br />
Certainly isnât the case<br />
Proportionately heâd consider me <br />
Perhaps a little out of place<br />
My blue, grey eyes may never search his<br />
And my thirst for a drink <br />
Iâm sure heâd find a disgrace<br />
So I pull on my dancing shoes<br />
And take me off to the club<br />
Coz I know that the way I move<br />
Will get me a little love<br />
Honey on 02/13/2006 6:31 a.m. #
<br />
The Dancerâs Prey<br />
<br />
Only one may dance across the web<br />
Her nimble feet apt to deceptions spread<br />
The moth unwittingly trapped in the night <br />
Shall be devoured before morn catches glint of the light <br />
Mike Fletcher on 02/14/2006 1:30 a.m. #
For the deer the dance is life<br />
For the wolf it's merely lunch<br />
So the wolf trips more easily<br />
Down treacherous forest paths<br />
Yet the deer dreams of running<br />
Without fear
T.S. ELIOT on 02/14/2006 5:38 a.m. #
An out-of-fashion thought you can,<br />
its motives see and understand,<br />
or dismiss it on the run.<br />
Nothing bad never happened to anyone who died.<br />
A poem new is surely fun!<br />
Honey on 02/14/2006 10:02 a.m. #
<br />
The deer dreams of the wolf<br />
And of running free<br />
<br />
What complexity<br />
<br />
The deer may never run without fear<br />
While the wolf is near<br />
Honey on 02/14/2006 10:07 a.m. #
<br />
She sits high in her web<br />
Every movement on every thread<br />
She feels in her dancing feet<br />
Assessing when the time is right<br />
Her meal ticket to meat<br />
She will play as she may<br />
The entire day with weaker prey<br />
<br />
Others her web would ensnare<br />
Did their final words prepare<br />
Her weaker prey <br />
Could spare full day more<br />
When her hunger is not sore<br />
<br />
âNothing bad never happened to anyone who diedâ<br />
â¦then weâll await his confirmation from the other side<br />
Honey on 02/14/2006 10:37 a.m. #
<br />
What? What?<br />
Don't look at me like that<br />
He jumped into the game<br />
That makes him fair game<br />
...right?
Mike Fletcher on 02/15/2006 10:17 a.m. #
When for you did versed words<br />
Become the hunt for grazing herds<br />
Restless hunger stalking days<br />
Across the long grass misty haze<br />
Remember rolling in the den<br />
With your siblings and your ken<br />
Life was not red-painted gore<br />
Playful words and little more
Honey on 02/15/2006 4:31 p.m. #
Truth is revealed at the break of dawn<br />
Her web dressed in the morning dew<br />
Resplendent her masterpiece is to behold<br />
Each thread of deception in glistening view<br />
<br />
She'd wish her creation's truth shown to all<br />
No creature to be misled<br />
But she knows that if it remains to be seen<br />
She won't this day be fed
Honey on 02/27/2006 7:05 a.m. #
<br />
Since Iâve posted my beliefs regarding Christianity, I feel it important to clear up any doubt that may have emerged regarding these couple of poems Iâd posted prior â âFor Someone Elseâ, and âThe Dancerâs Preyâ. The first was a self-reassurance personification match to the âbeauty admirerâ displayed within Mikeâs poetry ie. one that craves âthat kind of beautyâ versus one that craves âthat kind of loveâ. The second poem just followed on.<br />
<br />
Iâm merely clarifying that the poems were not reflective of my personal behavioural patterns, as those cited in the poems would certainly appear to be in contradiction with those expected of one pursuing the Christian faith.<br />
<br />
And while in the proximity, I also believe that beauty is obviously something to be appreciated, but know that societyâs unhealthy obsession with what is portrayed as beauty and youth, drives many young girls (and boys) to their deaths and many more women to the plastic surgeon, and yet any protestation on this issue was not entirely in their defense, it was equally in mine. My own self-assurance security and that of the subject of âDark Hair Shornâ would seem to be far more fragile than we would like to believe. Maybe this is why - flowers have no sense of the fact that one is preferred over another, people on the other hand are too keenly aware. It smarts, (Caught Suspicion â he knows how, yet in that moment, what she may have caught sight of, was her brother or sonâs plight, his own insecurity applied it directly to himself, as we doâ¦his gaze at her, and not at meâ¦different scenario, same blow) even when I certainly have nothing to complain about. I donât knowâ¦maybe Iâve just slipped in a bit of my own oil slick. I hope this explanation brings Mike some level of vindication from my, um...impulsive poetic charges.