The 12 inch heel, the confident gait, The measured steps, the sudden halt, The blush on cheeks, the smoldering eyes, The hands on hips, head held high, The silken gown, barely there, A tilt of neck, balanced well, The sultry glance, timed right, Perfect half twirl, played twice, With a graceful swirl, she turns back. The world looks on with stolen breath, Oohs, aahs, applauds, encores. The showstopper’s yesterday, Now hangs in a gallery, Fading parchment, guarded unnecessarily. No shadows of glamour come a-chasing, For vacant eyes and sagging skin, For shattering illusions, hanging questions, Am I never going back? Linking with The Mag : Mag 147 Linking with Write on Edge : The Red Writing Hood - The Gallery Linking with My blog can beat up your blog : 100 Word Song : Never going back to Ok Linking with The Velvet Verbosity : 100 Words - Breath
Rhapsody resounds, resonating for eons, what'll be your echo?

So vivid! I could picture the heart of the storm.
ReplyDeleteThank you for such kind words.
DeleteThe title drew me in. I love storms, and the imagery here brings the storm alive in my mind.
ReplyDeleteThis is so nice to hear. I am glad I could bring the storm alive.
DeleteVivid and powerful.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Kathy
DeleteSo intrigued by the violence/peace imagery. "Lulled by thunderous claps."
ReplyDeleteI do hope the contrast works.
DeleteLearnt a new word in the vocabulary.
ReplyDeleteThe imagery of the thunderstorm is clearly etched
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http://ideasolsi65.blogspot.in/2015/09/behemoth-ego.html?m=1
Thank you so much Kalpana.
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