by Nicky Goodman
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At whatever hour, whenever
there is Latin music,
she is Zorro
or a beautiful woman with a waist.
The colour red appears
either on a skirt,the white of a shawl
or the pink of a flower on the earth
and she dances a while
in a courtyard,
through the ceramic of low doorways,
over moonbacked terracotta tiles.
The air is garlic and magnolia.
The shadows may smoke a cigar.
Whether it is beans and rice,
a kitchen or a fire; gherkin,
chili, tapas or tortilla,
In any gypsy recipe
the night is ripe with lips;
the spirit of revolution always,
in the revolution of her hips.
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|Reviewed by Swep Lovitt (Reader)
|Your syntax from the first stanza on catches the slightly stilted, almost awkward, yet beautiful speech of the latino. sp. 'terracotta', I think. You've got some nice lines here eg. 'The shadows may smoke a cigar.'/ For me, and this isn't very precise, there's something too easy about the last stanza, perhaps the perfect rhyme, or the stereotypical associations. A good piece of writing.|
|Reviewed by Peter Paton
A wonderful and colorful display of rhythm and description
You took me there... to that exquisite scene, by the mere power of your incredible words..
|Reviewed by Sandie Angel
|I always admire their beautiful and how they do those beautiful rhythmatic dances. It's a pleasure to watch!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)