Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Narrative Dance Poems | Narrative Poems About Dance

These Narrative Dance poems are examples of Narrative poems about Dance. These are the best examples of Narrative Dance poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Narrative | |

A Dream That Came True

A Dream That Came True.

In my mind's eye I had seen her undress a thousand times
 sending hot flashes that exploded with her moaning
 Months before ever summoning the courage to speak to her
 I practiced the words befitting her splendor!

 She had been noticing my adoring glances as she 
 adjusted her skimpy bikini in the bright sun
 Showing just what a man, any man would hope to see
 I moved closer anticipating her charming refusal
 to my shock she answered a quick yes and our date 
 that night was on!

 I asked her to wear something sexy and she replied
 how about I wear no panties?
 My stammering answer made her laugh that laugh
 the one that sent shivers up my spine in anticipation

 It is on! We met at theatre and hardly watched the movie
 for her hands were busier than mine!
 A nice change to feel the heat of a woman so anxious
 I almost wept with joy! What a thrill! She had kept her promise
 No panties!!!
 None under that sexy short skirt that had made the other men 
 openly lust for her charms! I saw and was amazed that this vision of
 sexual beauty was actually with me!
 What happened later that night you can imagine,
 the earth shook, the sky fell and I heard a ringing bell!

 We married two months later and it was pure sex and bliss
 Non stop sex night and day.. Ahh, the memories that last a
 Nothing that great can last forever. We burned like the Sun for
 a few years and then it happened..
 The crash!
 My motorcycle hit a tree ,I was rushed to the hospital and woke up 
 three days later to discover it had been only a very vivid daydream!
 My heart broke , I was sorry to have came back to the world! Then, 
 O' yes then in walks a vision so lovely my heart almost stopped

 A new nurse. So hot the paint on the walls started melting.
 Over she floats to my bedside. I sat wide eyed looking like a fool!
 Awestruck with anticipation! She took my hand, took my pulse .

 I fumbled for words, I fought for control. I begged for help to impress
 Finally, finally I felt power return and I asked her to just pinch me!
 Pinch me! Let me know I am not dreaming again..
 She laughed and pinched my left cheek. The lower one! I felt the earth
 begin to rise. She noticed and laughed,
 LAUGHED THAT LAUGH!!! That laugh!
 That laugh came from those sweet lips. I begged for help and she smiled,
 O' that smile!
 As she turned to leave I asked her to see me again and she said yes!
 I shall return in two hours to give you your bath.. Then winked at me!
 Longest two hours of my life! 
 Then I woke up still laying beside my crashed motorcycle!
 With a broken leg and shattered dream!!! 
 Fate can be so cruel.....
 So damn cruel...... Then the door opened and I hear her say with a 
 smile. Time for your bath darling !!! Its late and I'll block this door!
 Then she removed her clothes. Crap, dreaming again I thought...
 And that is how I met my first wife. Yes she was a dream!!
 Something that great never lasts, never lasts.... 

Robert Lindley, 11-10-2014

Dedicated to my first wife.... and some of it is even true!!! 
Found this last week while rummaging around in some old files I had... 

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Narrative | |


She asked for a pic
I went through the rules
No this and that
Bust and above
My best features
Only that
No hips and no arms
those aren't my charms
I went through the drill
My students knew it well
She came and whispered in my ear,
"Teacher, I love your figure
You're SO sexy."

I burst out laughing 
Was this a joke?
No, she was dead serious
She loved how I moved
She loved how I danced
"Back home...
They'd love a woman like you
Your fullness is proportionate and sexy."

It seems a silly thing
But I did pose for the pic
I flicked back my hair
Had a smile on my face...
No, I'm not who I was...
But I'll get there somehow
I have to enjoy the here and now

A simple compliment
I'd heard like it before
from both genders...
Hard to accept
When you feel bad about yourself
But I never tire of hearing it
Beautiful and sexy...
It's all in the attitude
In the way that you move
in your smile and your eyes
Even with thunder thighs
A move and a shake
Will keep them awake
I'm going to gain back my former glory
and watch out world....

That compliment is about to turn REAL!


Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Narrative | |

Where are you Fred Astaire

A man with impeccable charm, sophistication and grace,
Fred Astaire was at once both marvelous and enchanting
As the twentieth century’s greatest dancer and master artist.
He made his sublime dancing (“hoofing”) seem effortless.

Capturing the American spirit with both panache and verve
Fred Astaire glided across some quite wonderful movie sets:
Top Hat (1935), Swing Time (1936), Shall We Dance (1937)
Done magnificently—all harken back to a different America.

This America tho’ more old fashioned was one of “can-do”
And boasted a gutsy bravado even in times great hardship.
Fred Astaire with others was a sturdy star symbol of the then
Greatest Generation that helped bring peace to a war torn world.

Fred Astaire was part of this Greatest Generation entertaining
Packed audiences and dazzling them with steps of joy and perfection.
Tho’ now gone Astaire’s past accomplishments serve as a prologue
For new generations to come and to seize opportunities for greatness.

Where are you Fred Astaire?

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 2, 2014)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | Narrative | |

Would You Dance This Last Dance with Me

Darling—Would you dance this last dance with me?
I thought of this question so intently as I gazed at
You afar tonight across the busy dance floor and
Your very smile and presence shined for all to see.
It would take courage for me to ask for that dance!

Looking at you first glance captivated my very emotions,
And I thought, “How could this be?” “I’ve not met you!”
Yet, I also saw your most magical and most warm smile,
And roared inside of myself each time I heard your
Funny, wonderful, and most exciting laughter so sweet!

And so, I decided to move closer and closer to you while
Passionately thinking and trying my best to conceal my
Shyness and fear of looking foolish when I spoke to you.
I knew that I had this one chance and didn’t want to blow it,
And so I downed some fine alcohol to free up all my words!

All this seemed like an eternity, but finally—there you were,
And my inner voice cheering me on cried, “It’s Now or Never!”
With that, our eyes met and locked at once, and I said, “Oh Gee!”
You then smiled so warmly and laughed and touched my hand,
And I knew then and there that you were the ONE in my life!

At first, not talking, but looking at each other I noticed at once
Your most beautiful blue eyes, radiant hair, and luscious red lips.
Your touch, your scent, your smile, and your warmness captured
My heart entire, and then I knew our meeting would entail much
More than just a dance—it could be a dance for the rest of our life!

And so, I thought: “Romeo, it’s time to talk, starting charming her!”
But she spoke first, both gently and laughing, putting me at ease,
And I was enchanted at once by her—and her voice had a melodic,
Smooth tone that bewitched me as her eyes mesmerized me entire.
We touched further, embraced, and kissed with so much delight!

As we stood there as ONE locked deeply in our embrace and emotions, 
Time for us stood still as the sensual stirred the spiritual, further
Enriching this splendid moment that we wanted to go on and on and on.
After which we talked, walked hand-in-hand, never leaving each other.
The evening grew later and the music was dying down now—it’s time!

With this cue, I gently cupped her hand in mine and kissed her once 
More so very warmly while gazing lovingly and deeply into her eyes,
And then my question finally surfaced and erupted with much delight—
Darling—Would you dance this last dance with me tonight? We did,
And it started a long romance-filled dance for the rest of our life! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, 
Germany (November 8, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | Narrative | |

The Ghost Dance

A shaman prays, the Spirit hears
While a Seventh Calvary regiment waits
Unarmed, a tribe endures a Union's hate
Their animosities, and their fears
As the blue coats begin to circle...
Their wrath begins to circle.

That shaman saw but a single Spirit
That was split between different beliefs
He could accept the white Spirit Chief
But the white men would not hear it
They would not blend their God
With the red heathen God.

Anger explodes behind powdered shot
Spraying death from muzzled shame
Cruelly winning their ill gotten fame
Painted heroes claim a tainted spot
History claims the Ghost Dance...
As death claims the last dance.

A Dakota creek runs darkly red
Forever silencing the Ghost Dance
A chanting shaman dies in his trance
One hundred fifty Sioux lay dead
Now, only blue coats remain...
Only the blue remain.

A creek ran red with Union shame
When a shaman called the Spirit Great
And that Spirit did not hesitate
He fell on Wounded Knee and came
To take His people home...
His people swiftly home.

                                     Timothy I. Brumley

Copyright © Timothy Brumley

Details | Narrative | |

How I Snagged Joe (and the rest is history)

Hot August, 1974, I was back for my second year at college,
having just settled into a new place at Anita Apartments,
right next to the guys’ apartment complex called Tanner’s.
My first night, we answered a knock at our door.
Steve Dietrich, a friend of my roommate, entered our apartment,
but my eyes went immediately to the younger man with him.
That would be his brother Joel, there for his first year at BYU.
My first thought was this: How shy he is, so reserved. . . but so adorable.
He was tall and thin and cute as the dickens.
They stayed for just a while, and by the time they left,
I’d formulated my big plan:
 to get to know this boy Joel (who everyone just called Joe).

There was to be a parking lot dance that weekend,
and so I waited expectantly, hoping all week 
 to catch a glimpse of this boy I’d found so attractive,
but no matter how often I strolled past his apartment,
my opportunity for a “chance encounter” never occurred.

The night of the dance arrived and I was right there,
all decked out in my colorful tight top with bellbottoms,
long luscious lashes curled and pink frost lipstick applied.
When I caught sight of Joel, he was slow dancing with some girl.
A blonde with glasses, she was rather plain and smaller than me.
I was not pleased to see her with Joe, and I thought to myself:
Hmmmm, who does she think she is? I saw him first, 
and he is NOT going to stay with her tonight.

As they danced, I fixed my eyes on him, 
my beautiful, long-lashed, sultry green eyes.
He looked up and saw me then. I must have taken him by surprise
because I did not lower my gaze. 
I wanted him to know that he was going to be mine,
so I willed him with my gaze to break away from that blonde
and come to me.
And so he did. .  the rest is history.

Beside me at this moment, lying on our bed, watching TV,
is the man who today bears little resemblance to that 
very young man I met 35 years ago.
I turn to him and ask, “Do you remember the VERY first time you saw me?”
He replies, “I don’t know; a parking lot dance?”
Well, at least he came close. . .

For Frank Herrera's Contest: Love Story

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Narrative | |

Dance with A Stranger

There I stood in this massive hall, decorated with sophisticated settings, 
White flowing drapes hung freely from an invisible ceiling
Twinkling stars, sparkled against the midnight blue sky
Though I could not see it, an orchestra played a lovely, unfamiliar tune 
Well-dressed, others sat leisurely at circular tables covered in white draping linen
Adorned with colorful centerpieces and white candles in delicate crystal holders

Quite puzzled, I made my way toward the center of the room
I searched for familiar faces in the crowd to no avail
My dress, simple, yet elegant was of the brightest blue 
Then out of nowhere this handsome, young man appeared and took my hand in his
As if on queue, the music stopped. Strangely the color of his suit matched mine 
Unafraid, I stared into the stranger’s face, as the most beautiful melody played

As we danced, we seemed to be floating before the crowd of smiling faces 
The music played on endlessly, as I danced in the stranger’s arms
His leading was perfect, not a word passed between us, but gentle smiles expressed the joy
Lost in wonder, feeling incredibly elated, I wished we would dance forever 
 In an instant I felt a light touch on my face, and I turned away to see
And to my surprise, there stood my little girl, saying, “Mommy, wake up, I’ll be late for 

Note:  True story- A dream I had some years ago and which I will never forget!!   I have no 
idea what that meant,..but who cares. It was one of the best dreams I ever had! One of 
those dreams you hate to be awaken from.  .

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick

Details | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
Which way are we 
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 


Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu

Details | Narrative | |

Always a Dream

Always a Dream
A little fairy princess one day sits resting on a most beautiful sunflower,
And magically she begins stretching her wings for anticipatory flight
While capturing a vision assortment of most bright flying colors, 
Of one gentle and soothing rainbow promise—a shining and a light to delight;
As the ground begins to tremble and crumble underneath her tiny feet,
She takes flight on her splendid little wings—quite magnificent to behold
Through the colors of mist and the veil of magic she sees a bright sparkling shine, 
And then all becomes clear—she sees gold, and even more gold on the horizon
Radiantly gleaming in front of her very eyes and charming her senses entire.

Then a most curious little green man with curved ears pointing heavenwards 
And possessing remarkably strange and yet soft mesmerizing green eyes, 
Presents himself both kindly and boldly to the little fairy princess in person; 
He jumps right in the pot alongside her dancing a jig to his heart's content,
And the princess shines all colors of love and warmth over him under the mist 
Of a most dazzling and enchanting dream to behold, know, and cherish.

With this the little green man reveals his true nature to his new found princess,
And with a most proud alacrity bearing a quaint princely nature, he declares:
“Me Darlin’ little princess so near and so dear to Me own little heart,”
“You must know I’m your Leprechaun always obedient from this very start,”
“At this moment most precious Me knows you’ve captured Me little heart,”
“And with this you’ve captured too Me overflown’ Pot of Gold now in part,”
“With Me undying love and devotion to you always carried in Me little heart.”

With this the Leprechaun and his little fairy princess danced a mystical old
Irish jig together while singin’ and laughin’ both so gently and contentedly;
All the while his soft green eyes and her sensual eyes azure locked in a 
Most romantic gaze and affection when they began kissing one another, 
And brushing inside and both sharing heartfelt fluttering emotions and a
Swelling with a deep beauty and a most passionate love in Heaven born.

With the genuine passion-felt affection and the romantic kisses exchanged,
The Leprechaun and his little fairy princess began to transform themselves
Right before each other’s very eyes, and Behold!!—in a quick moment, the
Leprechaun became a most handsome and sweet-loving young prince, and 
His little fairy princess, in a flash of blinding light, lost her wings and changed 
Into a most radiant and quite beautiful young princess with long-flowing 
Beautiful black hair, and a very lovely smile as resplendent and sweet as any
Angel in Heaven above.

Now the handsome young prince and his beautiful young princess were an 
Elegant and most wonderful couple to behold and cherish—kind, smiling, and 
Deeply in love.
The young prince with his Irish blessings began sparklin’ and sprinklin’ star dust 
All over his young princess and they both lived happily ever after with pronounced
Passion and love, emotion and devotion, kindness and charity, vision and purpose, 
Forever to their end on Earth and later by the Lord God himself in Heaven. 

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem (October 29, 2014)

Copyright © liam mcdaid

Details | Narrative | |

B52's and Dire Straits

 June 1987. All is well as we sit celebrating 
 my 30th birthday in the best little bar and 
 Dance club in our quiet little town. Empty 
 B52 shot glasses line the table and the 
 mood was PARTY. We all sat laughing and 
 enjoying the evening but then I hear
 a birthday shout out with a dedication
 for my favourite song.
 Dee de, da da Dee de de daa da
 Dada Dee de dada de de de daa da
 Hu hu
 Now I’ll never be able to tell you in which
 order these take place because in my opinion 
 it all happens at once. Your blood pressure 
 rises to 200 over 140, my eyes were popping 
 out of their sockets and I was stumbling 
 to the dance floor with all my friends. We 
 weren’t about to miss one second more then 
 we had too of dancing to our favourite song. 
 With our legs already to go it starts
“Here comes Johnny singing oldies, goodies
 Be-bop-a-Lula Baby what I say.”
 Out on the dance floor that night
 we danced our hearts out and still to 
 this day, when I hear that electric organ
 Playing Dee de, da da Dee de de daa da
 my blood pressure rises my eyes open 
 widely and I start rocking from deep inside
 As I sing. 

 The Walk of Life by
 Dire Straits
 I Love Rock N Roll

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans

Details | Narrative | |

My Love Story

  We pledged brother and sister organizations that spring.  We saw each other 
frequently at fraternity/sorority functions, and, in the cafeteria, of course.  She 
dated a friend of mine and I watched from the sidelines, hoping for another 
chance to make a play for her heart.  Then while dining and socializing one 
evening, a senior member of the fraternity requested that we dance together in 
the cafeteria!  I know it sounds like an odd request for the cafeteria, but Hatchet 
was known for trying to humiliate pledges and didn’t really care about others who 
were trying to dine and return to their studies.  For me, it was the greatest dance 
of my life!  Hatchet and about a dozen cronies crooned ‘Frauline’, and I was 
dancing with Vicki. And, for that dance, she was “my pretty frauline”.  I felt like 
Bobby Helms had written that song just for me; for us! 

  I held her close and asked,” Do you know how to turn?”

  “No,” she replied.

  “Well, you’re fixin’ to learn!”  And I felt like I’d been fooled as we successfully 
made a full turn in the aisle between the tables and the milk dispenser.  I didn’t 
want to let her go! 

To this day, I smile when I hear the song!

Copyright © Ray Dillard

Details | Narrative | |

Sadie Hawkins' Dance Date

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)

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

Details | Narrative | |


                     A TRAGEDY OF PRIDE ( hubris)

In the Arctic nights the jazz born North Lights sound
with a music of their own. Fair winds ferry fragile birds--
take to the skies in search of sympathetic warmth profound

while white breathless silence magnifies each sound as it is heard
and few venture forth, like bears they dash to find a haven
where they can hide until reluctantly the sun has stirred--

But, there is one jay bird who is not one of nature’s craven
creatures-- Waiting for a spring call from his mate, he hops into the hungry snow
to dance a dangerous dance in icy morning with the ravens.

There is a God flung magic that dashes high above the haughty human know
among the ancient secret kingdoms of the mystery sky--
And there it is that Wisdom’s Word is spread by wing and wayward winds that blow

their way in worldwide splendor and intricate magnificence that defies
the mind of man.  It is a truth that dalliance in vanity is inborn---
Man or bird, into the nature of some spirits-- it low lies

and becomes incited when grand fame or imagined glory has been shorn
by another .  And , so-- in Persia when the Prince of Peacocks heard
murmurs of the razzing ravens and the sassy sparrows high sky airborne

a proclamation that the World knew now there lived a peerless bird--
plucky-proud, surpassing the peacock -- Jay magnificent with a spirit daunting, a weight
of valiant blue in shades escaped of double rainbows, color-blurred

who bedazzled all nature’s eyes and winds of ear, that judiciously beheld each trait.
The peacock, no longer Highest Prince of Birds, screamed a terrible and cosmic sound
of jealousy.   Ignoring all the glory that still made him great--
the vain and foolish peacock fell-- stunned and breathless to the ground.

Victoria Anderson-Throop  2012 ©
Written in Juja, Kenya
Bird is Stellar Jay, common in Valdez, Alaska

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop

Details | Narrative | |


July 4, 1961

           Well HELLO MARY LOU, 

You won’t believe this but I just HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE that someone else was 
getting a DOUBLE SHOT OF MY BABYS’ LOVE. Right now TIME WON’T LET ME alone ever 
since I heard GLORIA saying please, BE MY BABY. I was just WALKIN’ THE DOG when I SAW 
HER STANDING THERE. She came right out and told me she would GIVE ME SOME LOVIN in 
the MIDNIGHT HOUR. She guaranteed we would feel JUST LIKE ROMEO AND JULIET; all I 
had to do was HOLD ON TIGHT. But I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW, thanks to the warm 

I remember when I was playing the field; all I ever thought was WHY DO FOOLS FALL IN 
LOVE?  I’d give anything to get back to someone like sweet little SHEILA. You remember her 
don’t you?  OH DONNA, if your sister lets you read THE LETTER I wrote from SAN 
FRANSCICO, you know I’d be taking ROUTE 66 back to see that little BROWN EYED GIRL. 
Then maybe CUPID          can draw back his bow because until now this TRAVELING MAN 
has just been SINGIN’ THE BLUES.
I’ve got to find some kind of LOCOMOTION because WE GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE! 
Maybe I could hitch a ride with MUSTANG SALLY; you know I was BORN TO BE WILD if I’m 
thinking of asking her for a ride. Remember when you and I used to cruise down to 
SUNDAY afternoon. If it rained we kept time with the wipers and the RHYTHM OF THE RAIN. 
By the way, did you hear that BONEY MARONEY really did DO RON-RON after she drank that 
bottle of LOVE POTION # 9? I guess it is just another example of we really have to LOVE 
ONE ANOTHER because a little SUGARTIME  will go a long way towards making it a 
Poor LOUIE LOUIE  told everyone that I FOUGHT THE LAW after spending a few hours 
drinking down at MARGARITAVILLE, don’t believe him.  There are always two sides to every 
story and BLACK IS BLACK because THAT’LL BE THE DAY I’d be handcuffed by that CHAIN 

IT’S MY PARTY next weekend but it will be just ANOTHER SATURDAY NIGHT unless I can find 
a little RUNAWAY to be my DREAM LOVER. After all, what would a WORLD WITHOUT LOVE be 
like?   If I can’t hook up with her, DO YOU WANNA DANCE the LA BAMBA, or maybe LET’S 
TWIST AGAIN? We can do anything that you wanna do but LET’S DANCE to that hot little 
oldies band called THE RUNAWAYS.

            All my Loving,

*Written as a tribute to a local 50’s/60’s cover band called the “RUNAWAY’S” using their play 

Copyright © John Trusty

Details | Narrative | |

Celena, Brave Celena- Part 1

From Judges 11.
Pronunciation: Seh-LAY-nah

His brothers cast the young man out, the child of an harlot;
He fled away to distant Tob before they found an outlet
For anger, more than what they'd done, to fully disinherit
And drive him from his father's house, though not for foul demerit
Within himself, but all for greed- it made them hate their brother.
Now Jephthah lives his life alone, without a father, mother;
He goes about with newfound friends, considered rather shady:
At least he does not get too wild; he found himself a lady,
And has a one and only child, a daughter like her mother.
She's tall and slim, with long, black hair; as fair as any other,
And loves to dance and sing and play her timbrels with the daughters
Of the mighty men of Tob, who play their music by the waters
Of the brimming banks of Yarmuk; lovely music, song, and dancing,
In the evening, in the twilight, which is wordlessly enchanting;
So much so that all the stars come out before the sun has drifted
Below the burning desert sands, thus Nature's course has shifted
From what it was, what e'er has been his want, his call of duty,
And all to see some pretty maids who sing and dance with beauty.

The Ammonites come, bent on war, on taking land and cattle;
They'd kill the men of Gilead and claim the spoils of battle:
The land that once belonged to Sihon, which Israel gained possession,
Then Joshua allotted to the sons of Gad and Reuben.
Thus Ammon claimed what was not his, but what he thought he needed;
And Israel must be captained well, or else they'll be defeated.
The elders ride in haste to Tob, to Jephthah's lordly dwelling
To find the man who would be best and see if he is willing;
But Jephthah said, "Did you not hate me? Did you not expel me
Out of my father's house, and now you come to me and tell me
Of your need when in distress? If I by some rare providential
Act of mercy be successful, will you lay aside resentful
Ways and set me over you?" And this they would; they needed badly
A man who knew the art of war, who charged in battle madly;
So they agreed and made him captain over all the forces,
The leader of the fighting men, the officers, and horses.
Then Jephthah vowed a vow to God, he said, "If Thou wilt give me
A vict'ry over Ammon, then returning I will give Thee
Whatsoever first will greet me at the doorway of my dwelling
As an offering of fire for a savor sweet of smelling
Unto Thee." And having spoken he departed to the battle
With his whole command of soldiers, with a clash and tramp and rattle:
And they smote and killed the Ammonites until the Plain of Vineyards;
In twenty cities passing through as Jephthah drove them downwards.
The town of Mizpeh heard the news and every mouth was voicing
The praises of their leader and his soldiers with rejoicing;
Then, as they saw him from afar, the townsfolk all assembled
To cheer their hero, now their judge; but mighty Jephthah trembled,
For as he came unto his house his daughter came to meet him
With timbrels and with dances from his door she came to greet him;
Her raven tresses bouncing, and her flowing dresses swirling;
Her face alight with happiness, and glowing as she's twirling.
She smiles at her hero from the battlefront returning,
But he cannot return it for the raging storm that's churning
Inside himself, and making him so weak and sick and frightful
For his daughter, lovely daughter, blessed with grace and so delightful.
And he said, "O sweet Celena, you have cast my spirit downward,
For I've  vowed a vow that's binding, and I cannot take it backward;
I have sworn to make a sacrifice of fire of whatever
First would meet me at the doorway of my house; but I had never
Thought that it should be a person, but a heifer or a doeling,
Or perhaps a dove or pigeon." Here he stopped, for tears were rolling
Down his cheeks, and rent his clothing as he stood there, crushed and grieving;
Amazed at what he'd done, and even now not quite believing
His hand must wield the wicked knife; his hand must light the fire;
His hand must end his daughter's life; his hand must build the pyre.
He stared at his offending limbs, said, "Would to God I'd lost them;"
For now he had to tell his wife how much his oath had cost them.
Then Celena, brave Celena said, "Perform what you have spoken;
For the Lord has taken vengeance and the Ammonites are broken:
Only grant me two months longer so that I and my companions
May bewail my virgin state among the mountains and the canyons."
One word was all that he could say, the one word, "Go," and held her
A moment to his bosom as his teary eyes beheld her;
A chain of gold about her neck, dress gay with colored sashes;
A tremble in her ruby lips, a teardrop in her lashes.
Then turning from her father, to the wilderness she stumbled;
Her eyes so filled with tears that down the road she tripped and tumbled,
And lay a while in the deep, deep dust that rose above her;
Then stripped her golden necklace, one gold ring and then the other
And threw them from her to be swallowed by the dusty powder:
"What good is gold?" she softly mumbled, crying ever louder.
Retreating to the lonely cliffs, the desert's jagged mountains,
Where desolation reigns enthroned, except for by the fountains
And streams that bring a thread of life, that ever downward trailing
Flows by the place where seven maidens gather as they're wailing
The loss of faithful friend, the favored, beautiful Celena,
Who would not flee, but e'er would be the dutiful Celena,
Submitting to her father's vow, though leading to her dying.
The place that used to ring with song and laughter fills with crying;
And music now is sighing of the maids and lonesome whispers
Of the wind. And those who danced are aimless wanderers and drifters,
Seldom speaking: consolation is but vain when 'tis imparted
To a soul whose days are numbered when its life has barely started. 

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

Details | Narrative | |

Talk The Talk And Walk The Walk

Cedric: I’m going to ankle up to her and ask her for a dance bro 
             She don’t look like a bear cat to me, and I like her berries 
Milton: Put on your cheaters Ced, she ain’t a calico, cancelled stamp maybe.   
             don’t’ take any wooden nickels sailor, dumb Dora ain’t for you  
Cedric:  I need a little giggle water to gather up the nerve to speak to her, 
              after that I will do just that; 
Milton:   I hope that ain’t a handcuff in your pocket Ced I am warning you 
Cedric:   I know my onions and I say she is waiting for my courtship 
            She looks like a high class lady who loves to drink her noodle juice 
Milton:   Nah, let’s go to the petting pantry, forget her I say …
Cedric:   Phonus balonus you just want her for yourself
Milton:   I think, I’m going to pull a Daniel Boone! 
Cedric:   This is some rub Milt, she’s my Sheba I saw her first 
Milton:   Well I’m leaving, going out for a sinker, you can have your tomato 
Cedric:    Tell it to Sweeney, I for one don’t buy your story 
Milton:    Go ahead and make whoopee Cedric, this is a sockdollager I ain’t joining 
Cedric:    I am on my way, don’t try and stop me… 

Words taken from the 1920’s slang dictionary 
For Contest: Talk the Talk And Walk The Walk  
June 06, 2015

Copyright © Mystic Rose

Details | Narrative | |

Alyssa's Dance

Alyssa danced in the center of the 
empty historical ballroom.  
Imagining suitors standing in line
for one more waltz around the artistic 
ceramic tiled flooring.
Her dress, ivory full, swept the floor
as she turned and sauntered on 
winged slippers. 
Elegantly breathtaking… enchantress form; 
mesmerized an onlooker athwart 
the chamber.
His eyes fixed as she pirouetted to
a silent melody.
Observers gathering in amazement
as she tip-toed gingerly in a dance
with butterflies of her fancy.
Swaying her gracefully thin, delicate
arms above her head; back and forth,
hypnotized in herself.

Oblivious to tenacious eyes concealed
only in cracks of walls, Alyssa dances
ever so genial.
The onlooker from across the chamber 
floor, hesitates to accompany her.
He walks towards her and slips his 
wieldy arm about her torso.
Her eyes open and smile as her hand
falls leisurely into his cupped palm.
Simultaneously sliding, gliding,
Alyssa closes her eyes feeling his 
heart pulse; radiating as one.
Tenderly, he pulls her close, wedging
their unfamiliarity.
Their eyes touch in an upheaving 
embrace as if known forever.
Reticently they speak 
-through Alyssa’s dance-
shared only in brevity of the moment 
while an aristocratic minuet 
stills the hush…

Copyright © 2008 By Caryl S. Muzzey

This was written for my granddaughter at my son and daughter-in-law's wedding.  Alyssa 
was five and pretended it was her wedding

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey

Details | Narrative | |

Embarrassing Moment

I have had some embarrassing moments in my life for sure,
      Well, there was the time in Grade One when I peed my pants;
At a dance once, three girls wore the same dress as me,
           And one day wearing high heels I tripped on the bus.

But I think the most embarrassing moment came not long ago,
      I fancied myself a dancer so I joined a local jazz group;
Not some one evening a week deal but the real thing, a school,
             We rehearsed three times a week and at home.

Of course, to be a dancer one must look the part of a dancer,
      So I invested in shoes and outfits and all the sparkle;
We were rehearsing for a Christmas recital in a theater,
            And I knew all my steps, they were etched in my mind.

The night of the recital I was so nervous, well we all were,
      We were on stage and my family and friends had come;
The music started and I forgot every single step, I froze,
           When a part for spinning came, I spun myself away.

I hung up my jazz shoes after that and never went back,
      Embarrassing stuff happens in life and no one ever dies;
But it can still dwell within and hurt your confidence and pride,
           Oh as a little girl, I put my hair clip in a electric outlet,

                                                                                  once . . . 

September 21, 2015


For the contest, Embarrassing Moment, sponsor, Mystic Rose

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings

Details | Narrative | |

Dance Above The Stars

The laughter I see,
is hidden so deep,
a memory of yesterday,
mine to keep.

Those that know you,
or think they do,
can never hold dear,
the days of me, and you.

Saying goodbye,
hurts me so bad,
my eyes now misty,
my heart is so sad.

No one knows,
when time is no more,
eternity takes over,
when we enter Heaven's door.

Sing so joyous,
dance above the stars,
my heart will know peace,
for I know where you are.

Copyright © Christy Hardy

Details | Narrative | |

Dancing Coins- Collaboration with Richard Lamoureux

Invitation: Rick

Will you accept?
Not a challenge 
Rather an invitation
Let us explore each other's thoughts
Are we oil and water?
Will we have a meeting of the minds?
They say men and women are not the same
Do we both not bleed?
Do we not see the same sky?
Smell the same scents?
Strive for the same things?
I extend out my hand
I beg you, please don't turn away
I am trusting you with a part of me
Let us dance
Twirl along the page

Response: Eileen

A part of me and more
I lay here at your door
Your proposal is sweet
Oh, let our minds now meet
An invitation to dance
Is such a golden chance
To let rhythm and rhyme
Keep us dancing in time
Gender does not matter
Perceptions we will shatter
When it comes to poetry
We are the same entity
With words we are in love
Touched by inspiration's dove
We exude beauty fair
As our poetic souls we bare
My words a gift to you
You know just what to do
Oil and water don't combine
Each is unique and sublime
But they mix when making bread
By which hungry minds are fed
A sweet blessing our words bring
we can make the heavens sing

Response: Rick 

Like you, I am a lover of words
Looking for diamonds to capture light
Each word placed creates our delight
A symphony of colors shining bright
In the end I have a spirit of oil within
Long ago I permeated my lover's skin
She and I are now a we
From her comes the sweetness you see
You and I, opposite sides of similar coins
Separate, yet in subtle ways we are joined
Two coins jingle, create a sound
Tossed to the sky yet still Earth bound  
As we share what's on our minds
Only heaven knows what treasure we will find

Final Response: Eileen

Treasures don't lie on the ground
Buried deep, they must be found
The one with a passionate heart
Will get all, not just a part
Opposites attract, I'm told
Our poems, treasures of gold
You have stories and I have mine
Poem gems, sparkle and shine
Your love speaks to you; mine to me
Our ballads of sweet harmony
The treasure is this, our dance
Unsure, we still took a chance
You took the lead, steps just right
This dance with you, a sheer delight.

Collaboration between Richard Lamoureux and Eileen Ghali
For Shadow's Contest

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Narrative | |

The Latin Dancers

Midnight was approaching and the dance floor was stark Colors of the spectrum were weaving and leaving their mark Lights spun in brilliant flashes of reds, greens and blues. Sparse bodies were gyrating as if music pulsated the hues. The music stopped. He stepped out of the shadows; on his arm was a dark beauty. They walked into the hushed room; the air thick and sultry. Dancing with my partner I watched them through the darkness He pulled her lithe body to him, how I envied their closeness. All eyes were upon them. Piercing rays of greens and yellows flashed up and apart A deep bass suddenly throbbed with the rhythm of a heart Black hair and dark skin, he danced in his tight, arrogant style She danced around him, shaking her body, nimble and nubile The music beat faster. The couple twirled around the dance floor as if it was theirs Pulsating music and scarlet colors flashed around like flares. His sweat became hers as their sensuous lips barely met He lifted her into the air, holding her high with the ascent. He lowered her to the ground. Watching the Latino lovers as they danced through the night I felt as if I were a voyeur who couldn’t turn from the sight. She raised her hand to him; his eyes quickly turned my way Suddenly, I turned to my partner and my hips began to sway My heart beat faster. I could feel him drawing closer the faster my body danced Strobes of red hues flew overhead, as backwards I glanced. He pulled me against him and I felt his strong masculinity Then spiraled me outwards, his hand gripping mine tightly. Our eyes locked. He held me firmly in his arms, we danced slowly then quickly Dancing to the rhythm the music began taking over my body. The Latin dancer’s eyes looked into mine with a hypnotic stare As breathlessly we danced and soon I became no longer aware Of anyone but us. Cerulean blues flashed over us as he flung my head back His lips bent down to mine, his eyes piercing and black Our hearts beat together as one and my eyes closed for the kiss But colors changed, music was subdued; something was amiss I opened my eyes. It was as if I’d awakened to find that their world didn’t exist And the Latin lover I’d danced with was no more than a mist. Circling couples danced around aimlessly and suddenly I froze Violet hues slid over the walls as he walked into the shadows. His eyes met mine and he vanished.

Copyright © Diane Caudle

Details | Narrative | |

Dance of a masquerade

There at the market place
Onlookers gathered singing the masquerade’s praise.
A visible ghost about to get loose-
Held by its companion, from fleeing like a wandering goose.

The masquerade yearns to dance
Swaying like a drunkard it needs this one chance.
Bells hung on its cloak
Cane in hand seeking a ferocious stroke.

Gloves strapped to the hand
Gins poured as libation for the gods of the land.
Cane drums banging rhythmically loud
Acrobatic flips to amuse the crowd.

The atmosphere was livid
Revealing steps so staunch and sordid.
Soon whips like rain were loosen
As the masquerade’s companions get crimson.

Hats or caps are being despised,
Whips were used on those chastised.

Ara Orun; a progeny of the heaven
Veiled by its cloak from mortal haven.
Grumbling incantations strange to our hearings,
Offerings first before the masquerade find its bearings.

Songs accompany the wailing drum-
As the air was dozed with burukutu the black man’s rum.
Jolting back and front towards the musing crowd
As the song grows eerie loud.

The masquerade sways like a possessed
Shouting to the crowd; “you are blessed.”
Buttocks gracing the sky,
Hands spread like a bird ready to fly.

Is this man or spirit-
Whose charm had enslaved the street?

Copyright © Muyideen Ayinla

Details | Narrative | |

Noxious Butterfly

I'm fine! Really, I am.
My eyes may give way
To emotions, but I've found
That hiding them is okay.
No one wants to live with
Their heart on their sleeve.
That'd be just fine if
People didn't care or need.
As it is, no one can
Survive. Not alone that is.
Clinging to one another and
Crying together like kids.

I want to surpass that,
I want to be able on my own.
In many ways like a cat,
I would do more alone.
Sometimes, when I think this
Loneliness pushes it's way in
And it gets so hard to resist
That noxious butterfly's sin.
Sure, I care for others
And want those feelings in return.
People are like wet covers
Weighing you down to get burned.

My feelings, I want to cut them.
To tear them down and rip them out.
But once it's dance has begun
The butterfly will win, no doubt.
No more! Leave me be I say.
You imploring noxious butterfly!
Feelings, I will not hear of them today
There are no rules that life goes by.
But within me the dance continues,
Those horrid things I want to forget.
Some sort of personal revenue
My noxious butterfly, my feelings, kept.


Copyright © Theresa a.k.a. Reecie

Details | Narrative | |

Our Dance

The floating lights
adds to the mood,
he takes my hand
while leading me to the dance floor 
his touch so tender
makes me feel like I am floating
on a cloud,
as he gently move his hand
 over my bare back
so protective and caring
the soft music in the background
creates the perfect ambiance,
as we glide across the dance floor
the other couples seems to fade away
it is just the two of us,
in a love dance of our own,
a dance of commitment…

He pulls me closer
and whisper in my ear
“You look breathtaking tonight” 

cheek to cheek, we dance the night away…

Copyright © Wilma Neels

Details | Narrative | |

I Loved Her For the Dance

I Loved Her for the Dance ,
 as moving and so becomely like no other.
 She stirred Me.Thine faltered Angel's Stately Grace, 
showed me once , such things with lone and whispered word .
 soul spoke Anon's thrumming Heart a litany did bring.
 A Grace that Felled My Daemons Grail aPt trick , it twere and twas .
 Reviled now I see them clear , so Crystaline in Shame.
I loved her for the chance , within our times encounter. Infinitely so entangled by design .
 So spirited and fractal , whirling while tender turnings did stream a River Blue.Caught handily so firmly there was a time I knew ,
 such gravity , so raptured by a dragon .
Flown fast and for the asking for the firmly bodied lasting .
 She the Tiamat d'amour woken fresh and born anew.

Copyright © jamesp kail

Details | Narrative | |


.The survivors. Yes, that's what we call ourselves. We've lived through the terrors of life. 
Gentle hands, soft spoken, safe in his arms. Obey, and listen, and the swirling melody of 
love plays throughout the scene. And yet, this masquerade is always broken to reveal the 
truth. Words sharper than daggers explode around our ears. Bruises appear on our skin. 
We've "fallen", the clumsy females we are. We fell. A sports injury, a car crash, a freak 
accident. Freak accident of hatred. Much like the lion, quiet and stalking, and then exploding 
into a flurry of the hunt. Of the hurt. Swift blows, and blood drips from noses, tears stream 
from eyes in a silver river of desperate please, bruises decorate us in tawnys and majestic 
purples. Reminders of our "wrong doings". We need to pay for our sins. The only witness are 
the walls, and the moonbeams that dance about our dizzy heads. On the ground. Steel toes 
to the back. A crack. Fire. Pain. And then, a cool silence. The rage subsides, and apologies 
appear. "I'll never do it again" and "I lost control" replay in the back of our heads. Our deja-
vu from the previous night. Always the same. Always the pain. The survivors. Thats what we 
call ourselves. And by the dark dance of the moon against the velvet sky, as stars twinkle 
like sequins, and fade into the dawn, we pick ourselves up. New excuses. New plates to buy. 
A new alarm clock. New knives, doors, but no new hearts, stabbed until the hemmoragging 
hurts like a firestorm. Alone. We are alone. We, the Survivors, have lived not an apocalypse, 
not a plane crash, but the darkest part of our lives. Therapy can lock it away, but never 
remove the dark stain of dried blood upon our souls. Lost. We come together, and escape. 
We start anew, but are never the same. Dark dreams, paranoia haunting our shadows, and 
the jumps that come with shattered glass of the clink of dishes. Never the same, but 
stronger. What doesn't kill you is sure to leave a horrible scar, but wounds heal And while 
scars remain as a reminder of the pain endured, we are, for the better, stronger. We 


Copyright © Erika Raiken

Details | Narrative | |

The Devil Dances In Clawed Feet

 The Devil Dances In Clawed Feet
         (A lively little jig too) 

I dreamed of darkness in a room round
there were in it boxes dark black.
Opening each nothing in it was found
except a worn and torn empty sack.

After the heavy lids I then closed
strange figure sat in the corner.
And there it smiled big as it posed
hat removed, it was a two horner!

Now give the devil his credit and due
for in his hand a snake appeared.
Why on earth it laughed I had no clue
I was shaken and much a'feared!

As it crawled over to my shaking feet
devil rose to dance a jolly jig.
Music played to a dark, horrific beat
and my wide eyes got saucer big.

In fear, I stomped the snake into mush
devil only laughed hard at me.
With a wicked grin and whispered hush
told me what the cost would be.

Say I was shocked, hell I was floored
his price was a dance with me.
A fine, lively jig because he was bored
only then did clawed feet I see!

Music played another lively little beat
my arm he grabbed and we danced.
While my eyes never left his clawed feet
in his delight, my how he pranced!

Finished he took himself a mighty big bow
into sacks in the boxes he leaped.
Now my mind wondered what and the how
was devil's torment next be reaped!

The boxes vanished leaving sacks of gold
there was gold coins in each sack.
Now I believe every devil story I am told
and pray -
Like hell, my dancing partner comes back!

R.J. Lindley

Note- From my private journal. I was 18 when I
wrote this one. I think I thought it quite funny.
Sept 12th, 1972

Side note-- Money all gone now but those sacks now hold

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Narrative | |

The Poets Dance

Paint pots and magic at the stroke of a brush, it’s the power of a picture for the lovers in lust. The splashing of water and addition of choice, it’s a musician’s beat, and the poets to rejoice. Hungary caterpillars and the ladybugs dance, it’s nature’s festival and the Devil’s mischance. The warmth of summer’s night amongst a starry sky, it’s the sparkle of lanterns drifting up to Shanghai. The poets and the dreamers smear ink to the page, it’s lyrical fluidity entwining a white witch’s sage. The smells and the colours are a carnival of love, it’s the power of family, drawing joyous tears up above. Live in these moments and build memories to keep, it’s time for our picture before we lose it to sleep. So take my hand as we enter the tent to the light, it’s an entrance to happiness and it’s just to your right.

Copyright © Nathan Kelly

Details | Narrative | |

The Diary Of Lord Kellington (3)

I am wondrous!
A sane person thinks me mad.
Ha!  But then again, the insane
will think I am sane.
I have fooled all of them.
I have even fooled myself.

Which is not easy.
Considering I am so intelligent.  Yes?
Last night the dancing was....Ahhhhh!
Given the company there.

A boring little affair.
I invited myself to.
Well,  up until Ansel swooned when
he spied a bug....dead...on his
half eaten cake.

All eyes were on him.
I can be such a Pixie at times.
He never saw me as I came 
up behind and plopped the poor bug on.

Oh, but the music.
Exquisite to my ears.  I heard
every not.  Preternatural hearing
is such a grand thing to have.

Young Miss Silversmyte did come
to dance with me twice.
Such a lovely throat.  Had I not
eaten early on, she would have made
a sweet treat.

Oh, but how I danced.
Not a step was out of place.
I was superb.
Several dance partners I had.
Why.  They were waiting in line.

I think I am drunk on my
own grace and powers.
The sun is coming.
"Tis time for me to retreat,
and sleep the sleep of the dead.
I wonder.  Do I dream?

Copyright © Paula Swanson

Details | Narrative | |

Steffy's Pair of Ankle Bells

Hello young man! I surely have heard a lot about you. I drove here as soon as I heard the news, And I’ve something to say if you can excuse. God gave a bird in my nest, we call her Steffy. She grew up fair, slim, silent but was obtuse sometimes. Nothing made her happier than the pair of ankle bells. She wore it like Kumudini and let her feet dwell. Day and night she stomped her feet until the floor sing. Everything was fine until the tables turned and fate blink, She lost her mother. She needed a blanket as these winds blew chill, A mother in her father and make her life still. While she was sinking in the ocean like black granules, I rafted and drown myself in my Jack Daniels. She wore ankle bells and dance to live again. But her efforts to take my booze away were all in vein One day she came from the school looking for her happiness. And she found nothing but the loneliness again. For my booze I’d her ankle bells pawn, Shattered by this, by morning my bird had flown. “Steffy never mentioned about her childhood and now I know why”, saying this young man made a way for me So I can see her the last time. Drenched in sorrow I move towards her coffin, And touched her feet that where as hard as dolphin. With the tears coming from my mangled shell, I slowly kept inside the coffin, her pair of ankle bells…
- Kunal Rathod A tribute to all dancers. :)

Copyright © Kunal Rathod