Zuzuni on the badlands
Montana's muddy badlands spread for thirty seven miles
along a cleft of sandstone bed, eroded years before;
the chestnut paced upon the bare of grass and well worn aisles
and I wore two new Navy Colts, of gauging forty four
beneath the noon light that defines but also eyes beguiles.
An anchorite, some years ago, upon the ridge of Grapes
where monasteries in the clouds are reaching out to God,
I learned to draw and shoot amidst the fog's white waving drapes
and prayed til the time was ripe to abandon this abode,
cause solitude was molding deeds, constringing, thus, escapes.
I saw them waiting on the trail; three bandits stood apart:
Coyote Chit, Cheesecake Labif and Mambo-Jumbo Crock
with cross-tied low their pistols stood, assumptive and upstart
bemocking fools who patented their e'er noetic block
that teachers, tho', could not explain; not even wise Descartes!
My shots intended at their guns, the hoisted hammers broke;
I ordered them to start the dance that turns the clouds to rain
the land was in compelling need, as turf and plants evoked
the sympathy of Heavens that magnanimous ordained
the good ol' boys (and volunteers) to dance the rain's refrain.
Coyote was allowed to dance a prominent gavotte
meanwhile Labif's romantic soul preferred a marigold
but Crock's mazurka had untied the nimbus' Gordian knot
and rain began to pour upon those who the skies extolled
heroic men were meant to be, defining, thus, a blot.
Zuzuni, the Algonquin chief, had noticed this ordeal
and marveled at the outlaws forms, that caused the skies to rain
in order so, to buy the fools he offered a good deal
fourteen strong horses for each man, who danced to ascertain
that rains returned upon the slopes and also on the plains.
© 2014-10-15, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
Contest Name: Sketch a Character
Sponsor: Gautami Phookan
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”
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"
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.
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.
Old King David danced.
I can’t, I have two left feet.
I can’t sing either.
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"
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.
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
~The Rise of the ZUMBIES~
The Zombies are finished we squished them away
They won’t be back eating brains on any other day
Sucking the life out of all that they meet
The undead are dying and now admit defeat.
Not rising from the ground; the undead are now gone
There is though a new group that we have to take on.
Just as dangerous in a new way, to suck you in they pray
Insidious and strong so watch over you shoulder each day.
Hips wiggling, thigh strengthening, they have burst onto the scene
The child of the Zombie is here and crying out as a newborn will be seen.
A wiggle of the hips, the child rises from the fate of the Zombie
Be not afraid and don’t throw a thrombi.
The child of the Zombie is now called Zumba
The reanimated dead are with here but with new agile lumbar’s
Hips that wiggle, bits that jiggle and dance their way fit
Thighs so strong, legs seem long; it makes you want to go try it.
From Meringue to Salsa to Mambo and Cumba
This new threat is rising and it’s called the Zumba
Those that could not move of lift their feet in dance
They are rising from their chairs they are given a new chance
Flamenco is hot, bingo wings are not, and new strength is given to the knees
This new craze abounds, the Zumba is here so watch out for the new found Zumbies.
They will try to entice you with their wiles, they want you to dance your way fit
Be careful it’s a ploy, a new undead toy, and you may be the next they will pick.
I do not know?
Oh, when will be Spring in Alexandria,
The Chrysanths crave for company
The sea breeze brings a melody,
The day that will be spring in Alexandria.
The flowers are going to bloom,
Proud like the star-dressed Daffodil
Dancing on the windy top of the hill,
The day the flowers will bloom.
Their scent will be carried away,
with the Cherry-pie giggling jingle
covering all paths with a lilac glow,
the day the scent will be carried away.
The bumblebee will stop her dance,
On the Everlasting tiny yellow petal
Dreaming memoirs of the coming Fall,
The day the bumblebee will not dance.
There is a secret Garden in Alexandria,
Not in the deep sea, or in the library
And no other town can be as flowery
As the secret garden of Alexandria.
4am sunday morning they broke into song
unable to contain their smiles
they cast aside the spent wine
and took their ribald song to the streets
with a fanfare of sound and light
like jesters of old
they painted smiles on the frowning old men
and placed rainbows over the bridges between
the carpets of the mighty and the halls of fable
by 5am they had made it all
the way in to the center of town
where a roadblock of uniforms thought to make sense
out of tealeaves and mint cookies
as the jesters just dance around their confusions
between their orders and
what the truth of the heart tells em is the song
and then we see the ugly show a pretty eye to the cause
as it marches in through the double dawn
one dawn for the sun
the other for the hearts of the lonely
and a secret one for me and her
in our lounge chairs by the top of the spike hill
kissing our sweet hearts to eachother
by 10am all but the most die-hard had fallen to dreaming sweetly
neath the juniper trees
while thouse few who clung to awakened hearts
sang softly and sweetly
of summer nights and fresh loves
unearthed from the ashes of the desperate pasts
all things made anew from all the things made old
by sunday evening
we had all danced all the dances
and kissed all the kisses till even the heat of passion couldn't fade
held eachothers hands
and smiled sweetly like memory's saying fare thee well till morrow
i would be crazy if it weren't for your hand in mine
here in the tropical sundown
sunday night so deep
and the only one left dancing is old harold
he's doing the charleston with the moon's echo on the waves of the sea
don't think he's ever been so happy
and as i drift off to sleep
with her in my arms
i know that i don't need to explain to anyone
that we are all jesters looking for a
song to dance to at 4am in the tropics
little monkey face little Dragon Monkeys sway they’re dancing orchids * * Note -Flowers Imitating Monkeys--Dracula simian, and Orchis simia
We are sick to think we have done something big.
We are in a daze and nothing more.
The cats that came were deformed.
They legs were made to dance.
The rigmarole was a silent scream.
They were as colorful as butterflies.
They walked around with scary eyes.
The fat men that brought them were sloppy pigs.
They were sick to think they had done something big.
Immense the ravage these pigs were.
They were friends to the deformed felines.
They stomachs were made to prey human.
The raze caused confusion.
They were to form the great divided.
They walked around with scary eyes.
They would feast on the rodents that thrive in the ground.
They were to be taught this or they would be wiped out.
On a deadly morn, the cats woke.
By noon, the pigs honked.
The people of the City did their work.
This would be the day guns smoked.
The Cats lives were lived in dilapidation.
The Pigs lives were in slop.
The Wild Boars would try to convert.
The pigs were pigs ate by the humans.
The battle started.
The humans killed more.
The wild boars receded.
The deformed felines were destroyed.
~Inspired by the expressive art of poetry via storytelling, fantasy, fairy tales, tall tales, etc.~
I met her south of the border in Durango,
She was hot and boy could she fandango!
She said at a glance
"Señor like to dance?"
"No" I replied, "but I would love to tango!"
I'll walk into the dance tonight
proudly holding my head up high,
Without a date I'll go in spite
don't care what my presence imply,
and if I'm teased I won't reply
I'll simply smile it's not a crime,
Although I'm here without a guy
I intend to have a good time.
So glad I was for the invite
Dressed up to kill, I'm looking fly,
I'll dance tonight with all my might
'cause on the dance floor I'm not shy,
Eying the guys, I won't deny,
Maybe I'll find one who's not slime
but if I don't I'll never cry,
I intend to have a good time.
The decor is a lovely sight
Red, gold and green in great supply,
The lighting here is not too bright
When in the corner of my eye
I see someone in silver tie,
As bright as a shiny new dime,
and he approached with smile so sly
I intend to have a good time.
I am his choice, I don't care why
He's handsome and I'm still in prime,
We dance all night, he holds me nigh,
I intend to have a good time.
I hear the bell like ex-wives voices nagging
Hanging,beneath the olde shoppe door ringing
When someone enters through
They have and I do
A swift little dance and a more ridiculous jig
To that stupid and silly sounding thing
Every time I hear it, it echoes in my head
As if far fetched fantasies
An ominous figure the tiny brass is introducing
In the black trench coat to appear instead
Along with hat that eclipses his face
There he'll be, standing
Eyeing all from beyond his place
Patrons inside slow turn in sync trembling in fear
As if death were choosing its next victim "right here"
It wouldn't be long before I could no longer hold on
From hysterics and laughter outward and in directions forthwith
Toward the harbinger announcments of cruel intentions
As the next candidate bound on hell train's transportion
And beneath the door prodding sounds once more
That stupid bell again starts ringing
And I'd think to myself " surely no angel has gotten their wings"
So under my breath laughing, then jump heel clicking, dancing a more ridiculous jig
tell me what is normal,
and i won't act the part,
screaming in the night,
to lift a heavy heart,
hear the song of friends,
they sing it in your ear,
telling you again,
that fear is what you fear,
so smile little heart,
and dance out in the rain,
will the awesome colors,
make you dance in vain?
make sense to you? it does to me. bwahahahaha
Do young boys start thinking of girls
with imperfect make-up and pretty clothes
who look like Barbie in every sense of the word?
I used to look at them and laugh,
thinking they were going to a party
rather than attract the opposite sex!
That's the time when girls were a fantasy,
filling up this head with unrealistic thoughts...
to have been the handsome Prince Charming,
and offer them anything on a silver platter;
and growing up I realized how silly I was...
I had little to offer, still carrying their books to school!
Somebody should have pinched me and told me
that at such age chasing girls was a game of hide-and-seek,
or a dance around-the-rosy to sing nursery rhymes;
even my teacher loved my greasy hair with that combed-back hairdo,
tight jeans and a plain t-shirt as handsome Travolta would wear...
only made me famous for an afternoon on the dance floor!
Those were the most exciting times for a naive boy like me
charming them with that look of lover to make them fall in love with me,
it worked, but after dancing they started giggling...whispering something
that made me appreciate the ingenuity that girls had at the age of twelve;
and would it had happened today, I probably would have gotten many kisses,
remembering their smiles, but not saying, " That's the time when girls were a fantasy! "
Written by Andrew Crisci
for nette oncloud's contest,
" ...At This Age "
I remember the old rustic barn
Long ago in the sweet month of May
My sister Louise and her newly found squeeze
Were having a roll in the hay
She'd sneak to the neighborhood bar
And drink with young Larry and Chuck
She'd dance on a table, all willing and able
And take off her clothes for a buck
They'd pay just one dollar for a whoop and a holler
And an evening of boisterous play
Then they'd head for the barn, for some fun and a yarn
And dance til the sunrise broke day
At four in the morning, when day was a dawning
Old Pappy had gone for his gun
He crept up the ladder to the boys who had "had" her
And shouted they all better run
"I'll bring in the law to those lads in the straw
So, come outta your hiding place please!'
The boys did appear, each clutching a beer
And jumped from the loft to the floor
As naked as jays they ran separate ways
Trying to make for the door
With a shriek of denial
Louise ran for a mile
Dressed in her silk pantaloons
And I think of that day
As I chuckle away
At those bare bottomed
Chaps of eighteen
And Louise met a farmer who tried hard to calm her
And keep her away from the skids
She cooked and she sewed and kept the grass mowed
And bore the old geezer six kids