Feeling the Dance.


The room is dark, it suits your mood,
your heart is broke, your soul is sore.
A sudden shout, across the floor –
a woman stands, a hush ensues.

No need for granadillo wood,
her hands will be her castanets,
her feet will tap in rhythmic steps.
Her song, so rich, so deep, so dark.
Duende swirls its magic art,
its spirits help you to forget.

(Granadillo wood is used by professional castanets makers, a dying art. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxTmv7EAtgU).

Duende ‘can only be experienced in certain surroundings like an intimate flamenco session where a singer will be possessed by the dark tones of the song and the spirit will enter the mind and soul of anyone who opens up to it.’ (https://www.andalucia.com/flamenco/history.htm).)

Linking this to Muri’s Poetry Scavenger Hunt Prompt No 9, to write an Espinela (or a poem on the theme of passion).


2 thoughts on “Feeling the Dance.

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