Zindzile VI

A song comes on like a long lost friend

My mind is once again a dance floor

of wooden polished planks

creaking under the weight of waltzing thoughts

Am reminded of our first slow dance

how shy you were and a little embarrassed

for now and then stepping on my feet

I had never been a dancer either

but the music came on

and you had a lovely dress on

there was nothing else to do

Am reminded of that flowery summer dress

few inches shy of your knees

that you love because it flatters your waistline

Am reminded of the scent of your neck

and blots of tears on my shoulder

My Zindzile—the selfsame song came on again today

And my feet itched for a dance

My arms reached out in the empty air—for your waist

All the while all alone – listening

I muttered under my breath

What a waste, what a waste

What a waste of a good song!

The Belly Dancer

Right on the evening of my enchantment

Heated up by a bonfire –an outdoor party went on

In came a fine belly dancer

Nearly stripped—with charms on her waist

And had danced dead all the cobras of orient

she had a neck like an antique vase—

fired in ancient kilns and varnished by kisses sweet

her eyes had trapped all flames she had danced around

and now they burnt with a fierce glow

and as she danced

her lips like poppies soft

chanted opium incantations

that had us all in a trance

her waist flashed in the firelight

giving it a caramel sheen

with every pulsating move

I spotted a beauty mark

on the softness underneath her breast.

her adorned ankles defied dust and encircled all

she was the center of a whirlwind

taking us all with it

and her legs, her thighs were time defying pillars

of an old forgotten civilization

a hallway to a temple –dedicated to the worship of beauty.

we all became pilgrims that night  

and her navel —the altar of a holy land

Dance For Me

Dance for me my dear

I will provide the music

I will strum my heartstrings

to the joy of your feet


Dance for me my dear

I will sing till my voice breaks

squeezing out melodies in pain

to the praise of the god in your waist


Dance for me my dear

I have abandoned the bottle

I am enthralled by your eyes

who needs a drink?

the wine is drunk on you


Dance for me

be raw be sensual and shameless

tear down your clothes like David

before my gaping kingdom


Dance off Salome at her own party

I will give you my severed head

slurring praises of your waist

upon a silver platter

Dancefloor Blues

There was a dance last night

In the village square

my beloved was there

Tents were pitched

And music was set

Old ditties and sensual rimes–

Which made girls blush

 and old maids looks reprove–

While I hummed the lovelorn blues.

My beloved was standing there.–

Ecstatically watching the dances–

Lacking the courage to speak

And the talent to dance

I circled around the throbbing ground

With the light of the moon

And from a distance

Our shadows kissed in the sand