Begin not the Beguine

[tectak]

.

Yes, I suppose I could write a poem,
about the minutia of my life, Not sure about minutia...sing or plu. minutiae?
it’s all been better said before,
in monotones of black and white. to name but two....
Writing in tomes of reminiscence,
where there’s no room for mushy gray, No. Not spacially quantitative. No room is rong
where only Hemmingway sharp edges, Why the comma? I am not up to this. What is a Hemmingway sharp edge? Even old men of the sea are blunt.
are docked, not floating in the bay.
Yet should a storm arise, things then
most surely would be tossed about,
making it seem so uncertain, Confused here. "Seem uncertain" is reverse tautology. If something seems uncertain it may be certain....but if it is certain can it seem uncertain with certainty? Discuss
how the ending would come out.
But we can’t have that, for uncer- playful but pointless. Dashed if I know why you di-
d it.
tainty is now the greatest sin,
and always padded for our safety, Nice thinking. I may use this in the distant future
the Beguine cannot begin. How did we get here?
I’ve heard from profane sources that
it’s still danced in Martinique,
under pretense of sweaty sex, pretense or pretext?Your poem
though it’s the dance they seek! Vertical fullfillment of horizontal desire sort of thing? The Beguine is far more romantica than you describe...it brings on a night of tropical splendour....ahem...or something
Listen, and I’ll tell you true,
for surely it’s a mortal sin,
they take your freedom from you so, What? True and you, surely.Cantankerous
the Beguine will not begin.

Hi Dale,
Love the media mix of think,dance, memory, reality, ecapism but it is a jumbled mix. As for your professed rhythm...I don't feel that latin beat in this. Is it just me or is this more of a samba played on a mouthharp? Needs a stiffening of the metre methinks.
Best,
tectak