My favorite cousin named Marge
is almost as big as a barge.
So one would assume,
not knowing the groom,
the guy would most likely be large.
But he was a small man named Tim
“As thin as a broom” describes him.
While Marge would guffaw,
Tim would watch her with awe
and just smile for he was so prim!
When the preacher addressed him and said,
“You may now kiss the bride,” Tim turned red,
for their lips could not meet.
With high heels on her feet,
Marge stood towering over his head.
She leaned down while Tim stood on his toes,
but for being in such a strange pose,
Marge then came toppling down
crushing Tim neath her gown
while the whole church erupted in “Ohhhhh’s.”
All was well, and thereafter, we ate;
then we planned next to dance until late.
But none could foresee
the small tragedy
that had us all leaving by eight!
Marge had tossed off her heels for a glide
on the dance floor, but when they both tried
to dance, Tim got snagged
by that dang gown and dragged
as his bride was beginning to slide. . .
Now shoeless, poor Marge could not stop.
Toward a table with candles on top,
they slid, and the groom
then set fire to the room
by landing with a belly flop.
Poor Tim by the candles got lit,
and we were all having a fit,
for the fire got spread fast
till the Best Man at last
got us all wet extinguishing it!
Inspired by the title of the movie: My Big Fat Greek Wedding
& : Joann Grisetti's "My Cousin's Wedding" Poetry contest
Auntie Matilda is a dancing fool.
She took lessons at a discount dance school.
When she does the hippity hop,
even babies beg her to stop;
but Matilda’s dancing makes old men drool.
Twas winter ninety-seven, all around the town
Houses lit up magically, parties all around.
Boyfriend says, come with me, to works Christmas dinner,
Dress up chic and sexy, looking like a winner.
Hair all done up, makeup on, gown that fits just right
We’ll impress his colleagues, I was such a pretty sight.
Ushered to our table, we sat with others there
Such a lovely evening, a truly posh affair.
Delicious food, friends were made, laughter filled the air,
A real nice Christmas party, memories to share.
Then came all the speeches, boring us all to death,
The best part was the here here’s, sniffing wines sweet breath.
Finally was time to dance, music filled the night,
Dancing in my ball gown which now was fitting tight.
Time and time we danced that night, in each other’s arms,
Him with me and me with him, showing off our charms.
Suddenly I laughed so hard, teeth went flying out,
Slide across the dance floor, feet pushing them about.
In a flash down on my knees, scurrying about,
Found the little suckers, and popped them in my mouth.
At the time I hoped and prayed nobody had seen,
When I popped them in my mouth, and where they had been.
Looking back, now I laugh, thinking it was funny,
I’m happy now my mouth can say “C’est la vie.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
For Judy Konos Contest:
C’est la vie
On the dance-floor they did a zigzag
But he was an ol’ scallywag:
- “If you feel something hard
- Pay no regard …
It’s just my colostomy-bag”
The moon is bright, and the chores are done
Tonight's the night to have some fun!
The harvest in, calls for a night's hell-raisin'
Take me out in the old hay wagon!
Not far to go, where the old dirt road ends
There on the left, where the oak branch bends
Let's hurry, Pa! ....Hitch the old grey mare!
We'll share with folks sorghum pies I've made
Stop la gaging, there's some moonshine waitin'
I'll wear my calico, with petticoats wavin'
Fiddles playin', and banjos are strummin'
Feet are flying, to some do-si-do-ing!
We'll kick up heels, with a still of whiskey
Come'on old man, while I'm feeling frisky!!!
For the Hoe Down Contest:
I got up at six this morning
Feeling kind of weak
I had a shave and showered
As I walked my bones would creak
I have very bad arthritis
But I can kill the pain
I just have to take Viagra
Then go back to bed again
My girl is exasperated
Found out six months ago
A Viagra in the morning
Will keep me on the go
I cuddled next to her
":Lets dance they're playing our song"
Sleepy eyed she lay there
Snoring all along
Next morning I woke up
A note said she was gone
"Next time you hear your music
You must dance it all alone"
An Italian once courted my Aunt
Who was bitten by ants in his pants
So he screamed, "Mama Mia!"
"I got the gonorrhea!"
That's when he learned the frying pan dance!
Timothy I. Brumley
She rotates under the balance of my hands
sweet memories we derive
unfamiliar dance steps, mistakes already reaching five
but with the reception of her smile, I thrive.
The stream of her tender archive
into it I completely dive
even when our minds sometimes disagree with the jive
mysteriously to our pleasure, both hearts connive.
Gradually clicking and stepping
the motion is set, we drive
our bodies, dependent on each other
like the bee and its hive
envious cohesion, sweet emotions and heated passions
we unconsciously contrive
our heartbeat, impulses and gazes
taking over despite the melody of the music so alive.
The licks of our skins and my loan of her waist
are taking this dance to a level we won’t survive
a lot in both minds
which all stimulate and also deprive.
Our thoughts so secretive
yet having one loud voice as we strive
the gossip of my body rhythm says it all
“I am so ready to swive”
The bell of caution rings
my senses and morality revive
as the sign of a “no trespass”
is conspicuous on her delightful finger.
Why does the ape dance?
Because he has a hot date
with a chimpanzee.
im livin in a world, where all eyes on me.
trying to curve my own route.
but route 66 keeps finding its way to me.
ive been plenty sick, in all the events layed before me.
even when i reflect to my lowest points
i dont regret any of the choices
That I’ve deployed in my era
A lot of it by error, but hey
We live in hell conditions and there ain’t no air condition
Or any guidelines when life throws you in the sidelines
But when hindsight twenty twenty hits
You’ll begin to understand life’s a bunch of equations and you in the mix of it
An you’ll have to think twice, before running into a situation and becoming the best of it
it’s what got me here, it’s what got us here
Ran with my thoughts blazing up to her place and
Guess what happened next
She opened up heaven’s gate
And just before late I slipped out
I’m a Grown ass man
Doin his thing, waitin to blow up like an old land mine
In doin what he drools over
But time after time
Something decides to creep up and cover the light
Lost my way
Then I revoked to ever know, I ever thought that way
But in the in between time, that in the mean time
Spent a lot of time
Gettin pissed off just to medicate and lift off
Don’t need Don Perion to sip off
Already had my way with the bottle
Even thought to get back with the trouble and rejoin the hustle
That’s just what happens to a man who really knows his old ways
Whos tired of making ends meet and ponders getting back to the streets.
Memory sets in and he remembers an O.G. saying
No matter how tall your pockets stand when you ball
Eventually times gonna make you fall
And I as I pull myself together
I don’t wanna end up like the twin towers rubble
I mean no offence to nine eleven but at that time I probably could have used a reverend
But all that’s irrelevant now
because i live with a different perspective now
there you go you made it to the end :-) comment if you like, constructive criticism wanted as well.
Baby, I see you starin' at him,
But you ought to give me whirl;
'Cause he's a handsome hunk,
But when he gets drunk...
Baby, he likes ugly girls.
Yeah, he still lives with his Momma
Even tho' he's 33.
She starches and irons his jeans and shirts,
And he brings home new recipes.
She's told him he's good lookin',
And there's no doubt it's true;
But when he takes home a pretty woman,
Momma says, "Son, she won't be true."
She says, "Son, if you want good lovin',
A plain and homely gal will provide.
She'll treat you right, mornin' and night;
And keep you satisfied."
So baby, you can stare at him,
But you ought to give me a whirl;
'Cause he's a handsome hunk,
But when he gets drunk....
Baby, he likes ugly girls.
You don't stand a chance.
That boy loves his Momma.
Yeah, he goes for ugly girls.
Old King David danced.
I can’t, I have two left feet.
I can’t sing either.
Freshman year, newcomer to public school,
my hormones were roused by Billy D. in typing class.
Sadie Hawkins’ Dance just days away;
a chance for girls to ask boys out.
Too shy to show my interest,
crumpled bits of paper I formed into balls,
tossed them at the back of Billy’s head.
Unsettled, as any boy would be, he glanced back at me.
Wry smile, how could he know how my heart raced?
Leo sat next to Billy, amused by this interaction.
Because of his demeanor, it was Leo I asked to the dance.
Turned out Leo couldn’t dance,
though conversation was no problem.
Leo spent the entire night talking about being an Eagle Scout --
tying knots, marking trails, building campfires --
seemed we had little in common.
No chemistry at all, but Leo said, “Thank you,” at the dance’s end.
For years I spent many days wondering
what if I’d slipped Billy an invitation note,
instead of lobbing paper balls?
Perhaps he would have said, “Yes.”
I might have had my first embrace;
maybe even my first kiss.
Years later at a school reunion
Billy looked more handsome than ever;
served as CEO of a Fortune 500 corporation.
He introduced me to his pretty wife
as the girl who pitched paper balls at his head.
*True story for Carol Brown’s “First Date” contest. (Some folks were lucky to have
more romantic first dates. LOL)
She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues...
step-pin' out, in her white...
We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so...hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
Funny curlers too, upon...
her head...for a new... Hair dew,...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her head...star-ted a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...mississip-pi moves,'
That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New-white-sexy-pat-en-
Dancing with the devil
Like I never danced before
Doing the fiery tango
On a fire flaming floor
In the crook of his arm
Our hips pressed together
Curving me round and round
Like I'm a weightless feather
Our feet move to Milonga
While forsaken souls watch
White cheek pressed to red cheek
His breath smells of age old scotch
My foot darts between his shoes
A fancy leg twist around his calf
Capturing the heat and passion
While trying not to hysterically laugh
If I can dance to perfection
Ironically I'll get to leave
Angels give me strength
And let my soul win reprieve
For I was meant to dance
In paradise on a white cloud
Sent to hell for dancing the tango
In Heaven only waltzes are allowed
A long time ago somewhere over there
a strange man danced a wee jig.
Honkies are weird like that.
if it's done right
will take a big man
show him how well he does not dance
and then light him on fire
My favorite shoes? It’s wearing none!
I'll go barefoot, to have a run
I hate to lose
the joy of ooze
between my toes, some goo is fun !
I simply love my precious toes
to wiggle freely to and fro
Bound feet? Oh dear!
Don’t get me near!
A shoe is torture, and my foe!
I could not dance on twinkle toes
Could not advance my prance or pose
A barefoot stance
Is my best chance
of never needing pantyhose!
I must indulge to be carefree
Removing shoes, in company
No matter what the circumstance
I'll slip them off at every chance
I'll tuck my feet behind my chair
assuming no one is aware
A happy dance, behind my back,
is going on, and that's a fact!
I hope that you won't think to check,
and say that I have no respect
My toes are happy, to be sure
Indulge me please, but don't despair
I'm saving up for pedicures!
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: "Indulgence"
This poem will never win
It doesn't stand a chance
My pen isn't thinking well
My rhymes don't dance
But still I write it anyway
Cause it lingers in my head
This poem is just for me
In a contest it'd be dead
I've had winning poems
This isn't one of them
Some that make you cry
Others that make ya grin
This one doesn't even try
But it won't let go of me
So I'm writing it out now
In hopes it will let me be!
Your love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and i'm
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried
by the dove of someone I use to know.
Confessions aren't easy but here I go
I'm about to tell you what you don't know
I secretly dance at home all alone
I like karaoke with a microphone
Singing and dancing I ain't got no skills
Still it's way better than swallowing pills
As I perform I still have one great fear
If I sing to loudly others will hear
Sometimes I practice at home in the shower
Enjoying myself for many an hour
Maybe one day I will be good enough
Then I won't be afraid to strut my stuff
Until that distant day please leave me alone
I will keep up practice to improve my tone
John Travolta moves, singing like the King
Imagine all the joy one day I will bring
Please keep my secret, you made me confess
Others could be worse, perhaps they cross dress
Confessions not easy secrets come out
Now you will learn what Soupers are about.
Sweet Anne's Confessions of a Poetry Souper's contest.
THERE ONCE WAS A GIRL FROM FRANCE
ON THE STREET SHE WOULD SING AND DANCE
ONE DAY THERE WAS SUCH A HUSH
‘CAUSE SHE SHOWED A BIT OF TUSH
WHEN SHE RIPPED OUT THE SEAM OF HER PANTS
A ballerina's tutu,
Should be called a four,
Unless she's wearing two tutus,
And then it's even more.
Heck, never was much of a one fer romance,
Mostly shy ‘round a lady,
Never learnt how to proper dance,
couldn’t do it if’n ya paid me.
Course er’er times I got all likkered up
And jumped and kicked ‘till ah coon’t no more,
But Bobby Joe surprised me when she puckered up..
Ah got up the nerve to kiss ‘er and fell on the floor.
Reckon one day I’ll git me a dancin’ lesson,
Get gussied up and ride ole Hoss to the barn dance,
But I’ll still be scairt I’m a guessin’
Tho I’ll be wearin’ smellum and ma new overall pants.
Thet thar ah remember was what ah was a thinkin
when ah was a barely sebenteen
Now fifty years later seems in a eye blinkin’
And yep .. Ah done found ma queen.
Twas aft ah come out the Navy
When ah had a family on my mind,
Sure ’nuff found a special lady
But don’t y’all never mind….
Thet thar’s a story for nuther time.
dec 17-2011 part of Ike and Jane series
written by Robert A. Dufresne
This Pole Dancer she was with me
All other men must pay her fee
Still I must confess
My family’s stress
But Polish dance lessons aren’t free
DOWNTOWN WHERE GIRLS DANCE ON POLES
FOR A PRICE THEY’LL BARE THEIR SOULS
THEY’LL SIT ON YOUR LAP
YOU’LL GO FAP FAP FAP
UNTIL YOU LOOSE YOUR CONTROL
Enjoys by hearing
legs,fingers and body dance
own music is on
Written by: bldevnath
September: 17th 2011
I do not know?
If you see a bowl weevil move,
If you see a bowl weevil prance,
It is probably this bug doing
The Egyptian bowl weevil dance
If by some happening,
You happen to see
A bowl weevil dancing
It just might be
If he’s bouncing all around,
All around by some chance
It’s the bowl weevil doing
His little Egyptian Dance
If you hear something,
A right jolly little sound
Listen really closely
And look all around
When you find the noise,
With the pass of a glance
Watch the bowl weevil do
His little bowl weevil dance
So feel the joy
That the bowl weevil brings
As he jumps about
And as he sings
Roll up the legs,
The legs of your pants
And join the bowl weevil doing
The Egyptian bowl weevil dance
little monkey face little Dragon Monkeys sway they’re dancing orchids * * Note -Flowers Imitating Monkeys--Dracula simian, and Orchis simia