Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Dance Poems

Below are the all-time best Dance poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of dance poems written by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Dance Poems

Search for Dance poems, articles about Dance poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Dance poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Dance Poems
Read Dance Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

STILL WINTER

Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 


Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

I AM AN 8



A gypsy dance enthralls the stars into a twirl of rustling hems as women tap bare feet, guitars lift twiddling notes of lore’s anthems along a woodland’s lively fest, where beaded hair glides in thrilled zest to charm night’s hours...to romp away till wagon drifts when morning strays. My destiny number is 7, though I chose my path number 8--- jan 8 rispetto form in 8 lines ------------ Andrea Dietrich's Tell Me Your Number Contest

| Details | Dance Poem | |

We Danced Through Life


We danced amongst the stars that night
when joy had fallen far from sight 

We danced under the sun so bright
And when all seemed lost, we held on tight

We danced to the music of hummingbirds
And we danced in the silence when there were no words.

We danced in the shadows of fear and doubt
And we danced when we questioned what life’s about

We danced amongst the evergreens
That posed for painters winter scenes.

We danced in the winters bitter chill
And when we danced our world stood still.

For that’s what love was meant to be
To find the dance when we cannot see.

To write a new song when the music stops
With lyrics that caress every tear that drops.

For when the rhythm changes and tempo slowed
We’re called to dance with the seeds we sowed.

For life is hard, there is no doubt
But Dancing through it, is what life’s about.


Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

SWEET DANCE


                                               Dance with me
                                I have borrowed mum`s summer hat
                            Dressed up with lipstick and pearl necklace
                    The good smell....do not say it but it`s mum`s perfume
                          The high heel red shoes are mum`s and they fits
                         me almost I`m nearly four years old and a big girl
                                   I have dressed up so nice just for you
                         Dance with me dad, I`m your little princess tonight













27.03.2012
A-L Andresen

| Details | Dance Poem | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


| Details | Dance Poem | |

What Is This Dance?

What is this dance we do?
First you spin me, twirling with delight
Captivated by your attentive gaze
Then you turn your back as I move toward you

So many times we’ve been on this floor
One step forward, two steps back
Movements that confuse a bewildered heart
Often I feel I’m dancing alone

Dancing in the dark
Waiting for a spark

Our bodies once swayed rhythmically
Now we seem to be out of sync
Is our music about to end?
Have you no emotions to share?

Foolish girl, keeps dancing to reach you
Each time I draw near, you back away
And still it seems you want me to stay
For an eternity drawn to a love unrequited

Dancing in the dark
Waiting for a spark 

My dancing shoes I place on a shelf
Along with my dreams, pieces of myself
Perplexed by your desire to continue
Pirouetting toward the unknown

You have always led, as I have followed
Hoping to restore spirits that once soared
Like gazelles across an uneven floor
Leaping, ever leaping toward nothingness

Dancing in the dark
Waiting for a spark
Leaving faded marks
On a dance floor stark 

| Details | Dance Poem | |

THE LONELINESS OF A LOST CLOUD

God named me a straying cloud,
and by His perpetual wish I abide...
as the loneliest cloud floating on the earth's breeze.
I glance below and discover the yellow daffodils pride, 
and fluttering they dance beneath the apple trees;
and as a sparrow I feel the bond. 


My night visitation is more exciting than broad daylight,
I encounter many stars and make them my friends,
and they love shining on the Milky Way...
looking down on the lonely bay so bright;
and tossing their luminous heads, they brightly dance:
so happy they have come my way!


Even the ocean's waves join them in their play,
but their dance is better than theirs,
and at such wondrous sight I make verse...
being offered their warm company;
I am amazed by how they roll and still gazing away,
I do admire the spectacle that gladdens me.


So often, on my couch I gladly lie to rest,
but overwhelmed by empty or moody thoughts,
that splendid image flashes in the glow of the sunset;
my daffodils still wave and invite me to dance,
and I dance with them, making a happy sound...
not to feel the loneliness of a lost cloud. 


Entered in Brian Strand's Adaption poetry contest
This is an adaption of Williams Wordsworth's poem,
"I wandered lonely as a cloud"

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

| Details | Dance Poem | |

Winter's Song

Autumn dripping leaves of weary gold
Exits quietly, fading through the trees.
Hawthorn shakes her cloak of ruby fire.
Naked to the woods and twisting breeze.
 
Winter’s breath now lingers in the air.
Strands of whispered frost on silver lace.
Deep within the green a distant voice.
Calls the breeze to dance with chilling grace.
 
Winter’s tune plays keenly on the wind.
Snowflakes dance and play her melody.
Wrapped in fur she drapes the scene in white.
Nature shrouded, steeped in mystery.
 
Winter’s touch threads spider’s webs with gems.
Diamond drops of cold reflected glass.
Water turns to stone with breathless ease.
Frozen daggers arm each blade of grass.
 
Winter’s kiss enchants the wood to sleep.
Holly smiles and stains her berries bright.
Mistletoe wound tight on blackened bough.
Strands of pearl reflecting ghostly light.
 
Winter’s song plays on throughout the night.
Nature’s secrets slumber in the earth.
Spring will wake them with the sun’s return
Thaw the ground and call them to rebirth.
 

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

Dragonflies Dancing

Sunlight sparkles on the shimmering pond
Its mirror like surface smooth as silk
Dragonflies dance across the water 
Performing aerial acrobatics like a circus in the air
Water dipping on a fairground ferris wheel 
Then plunging dramatically like a helicopter in freefall
Rising and falling skimming the water so gracefully
Transparent gossamar wings flapping in flight
Shimmering like a sapphire in the early morning sun
Dazzling me with your infinite beauty
Some summer days I wish I had wings
Seeing dragonflies’ dancing makes my heart sing

15th May 2014

Awarded 1st place in contest run by Judy Konos

| Details | Dance Poem | |

Diamonds On The Dance Floor

Diamonds on the dance floor
Glittering rainbows beneath our feet
Let's let loose, show them more
Two hearts, one song, extreme heat.

The saxaphone plays honey sweet
Feel the music vibrate deep inside
Slow, steady determined feet
Upon the waxed floor a romantic slide

Spectacular without jealousy
The rhythm between perfection
The way you dance with me
Deep rooted this proud affection.

Diamonds on the dance floor
Glittering rainbows beneath our feet
You come close, I want more.
The fire is sparking, warm up in this heat.

All eyes on every step we take
Every word we write upon the world
Unbelievable music we make
I gleam of hope to be that girl.

A perfect night of steps, every footfall in place.
Feeling complete in your harmony, trusting embrace.
I know what I am dancing for
I am your diamond on the dance floor

~07-31-2014~


Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

Zuzuni on the badlands

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 t' 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
(Iambic heptameter)

Contest Name: Sketch a Character
Sponsor: Gautami Phookan
Deadline: 11/17/2014


Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

My Muse, I So Abuse

My Muse, I So Abuse

My muse crying loudly, please write this way
I replied laughing, that will be the day
She storms off in a most indignant huff
I shouting at her, damn isn't that tough?

No fear, she always runs as she returns 
she my heart so loves, as my mind she burns
I, that often sit on cold bed of stones
She, poetic judge that often breaks bones!

Dead of night she cuddles up to me near
utters words, sweet nothings and a cold fear
I inquire, but my heart you love so dear
She shouts, that was a folly from last year!

My muse and I play wicked cat and mouse
She may be the roof but I am the House!

Robert J. Lindley, 08-26- 2014

note: My muse is a vindictive little tramp
she makes me kneel humbly before she lights the lamp!

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

September's Dance

September’s Dance



Autumn’s crisp air is heightened 
Through a cold breeze rushing in
All the leaves have become gradually lightened
By the rays showing a season about to begin  

The leaves soon begin to take on a life of their own
Swaying back and forth gracefully upon branches in melody
Beautifully decorating a seasonal theme in colors of amber and gold
To celebrate September’s dance engraved in our warmest memory

Before long, daylight will become shortened within future hours
Savoring the warmth of sunshine that quenched a season in groom
And like the legacy living in petals of a dainty flower
The leaves shall too fly away to a place out our view

Meantime stardust will illuminate brighter, the steps of a September dance
Giving life to a stage of silhouette within darkened skies
Preserving still, seasonal colors of amber and gold at a beautiful glance
Before they rest upon a winter’s blanket, pale and dried

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

Forgotten memories

Smoke (Charades)

Abaft the weather bent the time
outside the ship, around the shore
we saw its smoke in airy climb,
to fumigate from now to yore.

The fume was rising from the two
tall funnels covering its shape
with darkened soot, while dead its crew
was calling us behind its drape.

The smoke was dancing back and forth
persuading us to move and sway;
Ironic shined the star of North
reluctant breeze slid down the brae.

We thought it was the ship's horn or
three sailor ghosts that danced charades,
behind the smoke, our nightly chore
had mimicked them outside of Hades.

As smoke was covering the land,
some scattered lights that blinked and cried,
diffused away at its demand
until forgotten, sank and died.

We followed thence, the engines' chug
to dance around two skyward lines
where hung the ship's torn island flag
and our charades that drown'd in brines.

© 10-14-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Tetrameter)

This poem was reposted in the past under the title "Smoke (Charades)".

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

Musings , Wishes and Life

Musings , Wishes and Life



The Fire burneth while our world turneth
yet the rose still holds it's red bloom

The mighty Oaks stand majestic and tall
while man's glory hardly rates a call

The cold Wind bloweth so surely we know
angels bleach the whiteness in the snow

The Forest lives to give beauty and art
wildlife and earthly souls stand far apart

The Sky singeth and the sweet earth reflects
Natures beauty opposite man's many defects

The Soul endures and stays the greatest test
that prove kindness and love serve us best

Robert J. Lindley, 06-26-2014

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

The Playground

We are all in the devil's playground, 
now watch as I breach over and hold on to God's hand real tight. 


~
#1. The underground is never lonely, to many hot dates. 

#2. The host and the guest never seem to rest.

#3. The light will always shine upon my soul, no matter the shadow.
~

BY; PD

| Details | Dance Poem | |

You and I make the rainbow

You and I make the rainbow!

------------------

You know dear why I love rain?

It washes away my soul's strain!

My hair fall free to go with the flow!

My face lights up, gets back its glow!

That's why I am letting me get wet!

I haven't got that dreamy feeling yet!

When water tickles under my feet!

Dribbling drops form a dance beat!

The breeze around asks me to fly!

Even if I know I couldn't, I still try!

I go into another world, while I'm here!

The sky that's so far, to me it gets near!

While I am afloat, under the cloud's gazebo!

Not the raindrops, you and I make rainbow!

-----------------------

Poetry by Dr. Asghar Nazeer (LinkedIn profile http://sa.linkedin.com/in/drasgharnazeerlinkedinprofile)

Kindly read this poem with a lovely matching photo by Ms. Linda Sherman on LinkedIn pulse at https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/article/20140820205500-167523528-you-and-i-make-the-rainbow and with a beautiful captivating painting on LinkedIn Pulse at  https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1 

Please review my other 28 poems with similarly captivating pics at my LinkedIn main author's page at https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1

All my posts are shared through my Facebook community page "Hear those pics Say what clicks" https://www.facebook.com/PicsAndPoets You are most welcome to visit this page as all my posts are public and everyone may tag, share, comment on and like them.

The same posts are also shared publicly and are accessible to everyone through my Google+ page https://plus.google.com/+AsgharNazeer/posts 

| Details | Dance Poem | |

Put Your Head on My Shoulder

I went to the dance, all alone and shy
I sat in the corner, I have no idea why
They all seemed to be laughing and high
Dancing and having good times
As I sat in the corner, singing like a mime
I saw her over by the exit door
Tears in her eyes, sadness for sure
I saw in her heart
The loneliness that was mine
I understood at once, this was my time
To be a gentleman and do what’s right
So I took her slowly into my arms
I said so softly
Put your head on my shoulders
I held her in silence
As she drained all her tears
Then the song ended and I let her go
She smiles so sweetly and said thank-you dear Joe
Leaving me here, to dance alone

I have to confess it felt very nice
To consol a sweet gal
Even she left me with no vice
Giving it seems, is its own reward
Even for the lonely, my happiness restored

Bonus Stanza 1

Thirty years later, as I arrive home
I kiss my love on her enticing lips
Her blonde hair waves with her lovely hips
I love her still, like long ago
When I said so softly
Put your head on my shoulder


Bonus Stanza 2

A place to cry
Put your head on my shoulder
It doesn’t matter why
Only angels need to know
That you are special
This is simply so

Notes
This idea came to me reading one of Dave Woods poems, listening to Paul Anka and a poem called “A place to cry” by  Kathryn Ramirez. Three completely unrelated events into one poem. The BlueRay version has more Bonus Stanza’s and is available for the low price of 99.99 per copy, Oh and also this is just a poem, there is no love for this dark poet

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

My Big Fat Cousin's Wedding

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

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

Song Of A Cherokee Princess -

Cherokee chamber,
where a pow wow stampeedes preconceptions of inheritence,
from Her beaded neck charms of chance & chains of change
glisten from opulent offerings of roots, corn & lavender ablaze
on an alter of unworked stone mantled with skins strong beasts knew,

She is a " Stomp Dance " Queen with an owl as a friend and a spider as assassin,
with rattlesnake ribbons around Her wrists and prayers in Her braids thick with traditions,
the walls of Her teepee painted with the pigments of buffalo blood & sunflower pollen,
portraying a history hewn from customs known to Spirits and men alike,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen speaks for Her People and sings from the stars,

I found this Tribe, not in Appalacia nor on a prarrie stage but in the smoke of ceremony,
the Cherokee Princess has rattlesnake teeth tied to Her thigh & turtle shells upon Her hips,
She played the rabbit on the scene, then the wolf, if you know what I mean,
celebrated by the warriors as a tomahawk maker,
praised by the medicine men for Her Visions,
and feared by the Elders because of wrath that may follow Her steps,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen is a Princess, She is a Cherokee with a song Her own -

J.A.B.

| Details | Dance Poem | |

From Jaded Green

A harvest breeze invites the leaves
to shimmy on the tree.
In haunting song she sighs and grieves
as on her breath they flee.
They dance and twirl away from her,
sweet fragrance lingers where they were,
they dance and twirl,
they dance and twirl
toward the twilight of the year.

A gentle moonlight bathes the leaves
that lie upon the ground.
Her magic with them interweaves
in midnight’s silent sound.
They turn to gold from jaded green
beneath the moon’s cool waxen sheen,
they turn to gold,
they turn to gold,
and gild a graceful autumn scene.

A winter wind disturbs the leaves
as they so soundly sleep.
The tree’s loss, so the wind believes,
gives him the right to reap.
He whips them up and whispers low
that all the golden leaves must go,
he whips them up,
he whips them up
to clear the way for soft white snow.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

A Marriage of Seasons

November’s sitting at her loom.
For gown of lace, a wrap she weaves,
And when she meets her dauntless groom,
They’ll dance among the fallen leaves.

For gown of lace, a wrap she weaves.
Her groom shall wear a silver suit.
They’ll dance among the fallen leaves,
Their special song, a lone owl’s hoot.

Her groom shall wear a silver suit.
She’ll don the woven pearl-gray shawl.
Their special song, a lone owl’s hoot,
They’ll waltz at Autumn’s farewell ball.

She’ll don the woven pearl-gray shawl,
And when she meets her dauntless groom,
They’ll waltz at Autumn’s farewell ball.
November’s sitting at her loom.

By Andrea Dietrich

For SandyIvy's Good Enough Poetry Contest

| Details | Dance Poem | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (4)

Refrain
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.

               Do you ask me why does my sorrow flow so
               Endlessly for him? Is he not gone the way 
               Of men that many went before? O I do know
               My time may not be long, and lessons delay.
               Who do think was the man in the mirror? did
               You see us there, did you know it oppressed him
               When like wanton dogs drugged and rabid
               Went heedless along the callous way being dim.

Look at the dance videos again, tell me
You see the what he begs to beat it. Off the wall
Are shadows falling like an inner expose
Where he internalized the world, and yet did call
In many songs - his troubled world was us
But now the king's sun set to dust, and we
Remain to heed and weep the vanity of lust
The tangled truths of out tentacled history!

                  Michael was God's gift to our season, and how I
                  Wish he would dance for me across the tribal plains
                  Of Africa again, where warriors ride in the sky
                  Through the fire make us brothers without chains
                  A global oneness where dreams deny the child
                  Nothing again. O death, what oneness beyond this
                  Can we find? Treat him kindly there, be mild
                  To him who in this troubled life knew no bliss.

Michael I miss you; O genius, sleep now in peace
The storms of life are over, the lightning ends
And droughts will come again, but I'll never cease
To proclaim your virtues to foes and friends;
Sleep beloved. Your glory stream in summer's eye
And Harlem's street are filled, old men remember
And old women interrupt their planning to cry
Farewell, Michael ... the grandest star is but an ember.


Premium Member Poem | Details | Dance Poem | |

Worcester Rooster


Out on the faraway of Spring,
the wraiths tap-dance atop the fields,
their laughter rises when they wield,
and beam to innocent their swing.

Our donkey left the barn last night,
pursuing thus, a gracious mare;
a whir became on stardom glare,
enchanting all jennets in sight!

The chickens started to escape,
because of a bewitching coq,
(with sauce of Worcester, cooked in wok),
- his spook got drunk on Concord grape.

Our precious cow (miss World was called) ,
wore ten inch spikes with a short dress,
and jumping up the barn egress'd,
absorbed by night for e'er un-stalled.

Two versing hogs, were cuckoo-spelled,
and oinking Shakespeare's sixth sonnet,
spiraled afar; a gifted duet
on website poetry excelled.

This Pandemonium's trick song,
our grandma sang while her broom climbed,
with a 'ye haw' she left and rhymed,
new magic flying to Hong Kong.

Nigh this Catastrophe's attacks,
the neighbor's daughter dressed like ghost,
to whistling granted her riposte,
- and much was kissed, on dry hay stacks.

© G. V., 11-19-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)

Worcester: is pronounced "Woo'ster"

| Details | Dance Poem | |

Gypsy Dance


Climb up the hill where gypsies hide,
And breathe on the wind of a restless tide;
Where notes of sorrow from a violin,
Cry out to the night from a heart within.

The day is dim and night is alive,
And gypsies dance like bees in a hive;
They spin and turn while the fire burns bright,
And sparks fly up to kiss the night.

Old men sit while weaving a tale,
While young men sit drinking their ale;
And fires of night flicker and glow,
While the winds of night moan and blow.

They dance too fast, they dance too far;
They follow the light of a fallen star;
But there in the sky a sickle shaped moon,
Dances with gypsies in the fires of June.