Private Dancer
Author: Bench


There she stood
In the middle of a tiny stage
Inside a dimly lit bar
In one of those seedy avenues.

Almost bare to her soul
With only a small piece of cloth
Covering what was left
Of her dignity.

She swayed to some fast music
Yet her face showed nothing.
Not a smile nor a frown,
But just a distant look.

Deep down inside
She is torn.
Ripped like a rag doll,
Nothing is left.

Later on, after her part
She'd be on some man's lap
Hoping to get him to pay
More than he'd bargain for.

With all those mouths
To feed back home,
She might need to dance
For the rest of her life.

------- Author's Notes -------

From a memory when I was first exposed to the Red Light district way back when I was in college.


Comments on this poem/writing:

Megan ( -- Wednesday, September 1 2004, 06:10 am


Thats a harsh reality for many people , its very deep and i love how deep you got into it.
Name:                                           Remember Me

Comment Title:

Comment / Ammendment:

Please complete the recaptcha below for spam prevention:

Click here to read other Poems by Bench


Poetic Dreams Other's Poetic Dreams Submit a Poem New This Week Forum Home

Copyright©2018-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved.   No part of this website, including all pictures and written words,  may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without  permission of the original author of the work.  All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner.  All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail:  so the proper person may be notified.