Monday, September 13, 2010


This is an old poem I wrote my first year of college I think the assignment was to write a piece with rhythm. I used this poem to create a scene and character for the book I'm writing.

The sun blazes hot, turning the scorched grassland fluid

Sun and dust and the incessant song of the cicada

Herds of great beast pass in the early morning

Now they’ve disappear melting into the heat and the vastness of the plain

Suddenly and softly the beat begins

Tap ta-tap-tap Tap Tap


Beat Ba-beat-beat beat


Thump tha-thump-thump thump thump.

The old mans palms, dark and calloused, pound with harnessed power

His eyes are closed, tears squeeze from the lids, soaking into his cracked, leathery face,

His gray hair falls about his face and shoulders, the ends dripping with sweat

The dust rises in a cloud as his grandson, the prince of the people, dances his prayer to

Mother Earth

The light flashes off his ebony skin, the sweat thick and glistening

All the plain holds it’s breath to listen, the gods gather round, the cicada is silent.

His feet flash to his grandfather’s rhythm their feet and hands and hearts beat as one

Thump tha-thump-thump thump thump

Faster and faster the hotter and hotter

Swirl and dip and pound and fall

Rise and dip and pound and pound

Turn and rise and jump and fall

Sun and sweet spirit

Bleeding feet, pleading hands

Thump and thump and thump

And fall

The man falls beside his grandson, both wet with sweat and blood and tears,

Grandson’s body, young and hard, his skin wet and dark, flashes as he breaths

Fast then slower then slower

Dust settles

The cicada takes up his song, beasts rise from the heat and disappear again into the

Coming darkness,

The air grows heavy and the wind blows damp,

The storm rumbles across the savanna

The rain has come, the dance and the sacrifice accepted.