I never got to dance with Mary Jane
although I heard she sure knows how to swing!
She has a twin, and he is masculine;
he doesn’t have his sister’s magic powers,
her mystic way of calming people down
or bringing sweet relief for those in pain.
His tall and sturdy body has been used
for textiles, ropes, and oil. There’s so much more
that he could give us if we only would
allow the cultivation of his skills.
We might renew our plastics and we could
preserve our forests, for he is so good
when he replaces wood. Why is he shunned?
It’s simply for his ties with Mary Jane!
But why has she been banned across the globe?
She has abilities. Not psycho-active,
she helps the sick. Those undergoing chemo
can find relief with her; she’s antiemetic.
She’s anti many things that bring us woe.
Convulsions, inflammation, cancer and
depression are not all she fights against.
An anti-oxidant, she can relieve
disorders plaguing many on this earth.
They say she is the gateway to bad things,
yet she is safer than our cigarettes
that kill so many folks. I’ve never heard
that Mary Jane directly caused a death!
We let our people drink. Behind the wheel,
they drive and kill, yet those who take a drive
with Mary Jane are said to take things slow!
Of course she is misused by high school kids,
who should not dance with Mary Jane until
their brains are fully formed. Yes, she might cause
a temporary loss of memory,
but dancing with her should not be a crime.
We ought to focus on REAL criminals.
To lock her lovers up? A travesty!
Successful people cry for liberty
of Mary Jane. They’re smart and talented.
Jon Stewart, Andrew Sullivan, Phil Jackson,
and Angelie Jolie, to name a few.
Rush Limbaugh even needed Mary Jane
To get through all his shows (I threw that in
To show Republicans have loved her too,
Like Sarah Palin and George W!)
Ted Turner in his office dances with
sweet Mary Jane, and Michael Bloomberg is
quite proud to partner with her in a dance.
George Clooney is her advocate. He rocks!
And Morgan Freeman says he never will
give up “the ganja.” Neither will one guy
who danced with her since he was in his youth.
This guy, named Paul, has got by very well
with help from Mary Jane, his little friend!
Another famous man says Mary Jane
had helped him stay a human when in ‘Nam.
Maya Angelou danced “with abandon”
with her! Bill Gates, Rick Steve. . .the list goes on.
Who better to declare that she is safe
than Johnny Depp, who says that alcohol
is far more dangerous. I must agree
with Aniston, who said of Mary Jane:
“All things in moderation.” Anything
can be abused. The very food we eat
leads to obesity when it’s misused.
I’ve never had the pleasure of a dance
with Mary Jane, but I’ll be first in line
when she is legal. I’ll conclude with this:
Dear Martha Stewart, I heard you could bake
one mean green brownie. Where can I get one?
for the "Global Poetry" Poetry Contest of Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
God is always love
Forever seek the kingdom;
Praise the creator
Keep giving what you can give
Please endure until the end
Protecting the meek ones earth
Watching over us
Helping us to cope with life
Comforted with hope and trust
When you find rhythm
You find your hearts inner core
Celebrate the times
Make them better than before
Reminisce and dance all night
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2013
Locking the door is useless,
for he has a key...
Will that sliver of light
become a wider slice tonight,
Bed sheet covers are but flimsy barriers,
easily thrown off
Hard working hands
that roam where they should not
Tuck you to bed,
tell you a fairy tale before you sleep,
kiss you good night.
They all hold different meanings,
they always do.
The moon is a silent witness,
peeking through the windows,
where shadows refuse to dance...
Innocent eyes of a doll
“Shhh,” he says
“This is love.”
But the pounding heart,
the screaming mind
This isn’t love.
It never was.
The moon can only scream in silence
The sun crashes in,
dissolving the darkness
but it never matters,
for the nightmare continues...
She’s there at the stove, cooking
eggs sunny-side up
He reads the newspaper
with a smile
Yet tears start to pool
as a timid voice says,
Why don’t you believe me?
The Boogie Man is real.”
September 16, 2011
Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011
Find fulfilment in rhythm;
Let the Music in.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2014
Play The Radio
Get Up And Dance All Night Long
Music Heals The Soul
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
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-
Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013
< this poem is not about what is written, but what is not written
like the smile upon her face that looks nil and somewhat smitten
and lochs of hair hanging instead of with bows and lace
tell me my angelic angel have you fallen from God's good grace
has your garments of thread gone out of time
has your dance with the butterflies gotten out of rhyme
have you been cast from your lovers heart
or are you just looking to start over with brand new start
has clouds silver lining rained upon your dreams
has leafs dance gone frozen in crystal streams
time stands still amidst wondering thoughts
time stands still when lovers cant be sought
Written By Katherine Stella 7/4/11
Entry For A Rambling Poet's
The Unwritten Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
Kevin Solomon 9/9/2015
The Lion and the Crown
Cobalt blue goblet and the spangled gown
Black tie and high browns
Puttin on the Ritz
Flappers dancing the Charleston
Jazz by Count Basie and Duke Ellington
Crazy dance moves like the Black Bottom, the Shimmy and the Turkey Trot
And the Cake Walk
The Tango and the Bunny Hop
The Fox Trot and the Lindy Hop
Roaring cars filling the crowded streets
Zoot suits and reap pleats
Wide leg Oxford Bags and cuffed trousers
Waistcoats, suspenders, bow-ties and knickerbockers
Ladies wearing make-up, bobbed hair, short fringed skirts and drinking
Bright colored sweaters, patent-leather hair, feather head bands and smoking
The glitz of New York
Not the grime of Detroit
Forgetting who their real friends are
Blinded by the glitter and gleam
Forgetting you are only a human being
Going where Harlem flits
No guts no grits
The fancy rich and famous showing their glitz
Forget about the misfits
And come on down to the Ritz
Copyright © Kevin Solomon | Year Posted 2015
With trappings of chattel and ownership and slavery
The stains and scarification of torture and tally
The edification and vainglory of succumb: metal ring, chain & ink—
Slave masters acknowledging self as property
Acceptance of inventory as condition of existence
Where are the Free
Where are the truly free
I would dance among them
Copyright © Kevin Taylor | Year Posted 2016
One fine day, I planned a visit to zoo
Alone landed amidst the fauna left so few
Treaded merrily on greenery, singing my heart out
Whilst a lion’s scary roar made me shout
‘Ah! Another visitor’, said the lion annoyingly
‘Why should we entertain you?’ said he fumingly
‘What’s the point in wasting your energy and mine?
Making us do the funny acts, do they seem so divine?’
Hearing those words I dared
Reduced the distance, still scared
Said I, ‘Stop fuming King of Jungle, watch out for your age,
Hadn’t I come to visit you, wouldn’t you be bored in your cage?’
‘The answer dwells in your question, silly girl
You humans have no heart of pearls,
The so-called king of jungle imprisoned in cage
Heartthrob of millions I was, at my early age’
‘To meet my family, hope it doesn’t get too late
I need to eagerly meet ‘em all, my cubs, my mate
I still feel them, they are waiting for me
Oh girl! Be kind enough to set me free.’
I couldn’t have done that with all my might
Turned my way, delighted by a peacock’s sight
The multihued beauty was sheltered in a metallic cage
Awe! Gloomy this beauty looked, in distress and rage
‘What is wrong? Do you want to fly?’
It turned around and looked straight at the sky
‘Show me those vibrant feathers, the fan-like crest
Guests would adore seeing you dance at your best’
‘I dance just for my love, my love for rain,
Cool breeze no more likes crossing my lane
Why do I open my feathers without my mate’s presence?
Just to amuse you, I shall do; confined in this fence’
Dumbstruck, I decided to turn my way
Walked ahead in quest of animals happy and gay
There it was! A crazy monkey, flirting and making its choice
Mimicking others and playing around, hear its evil noise
Bouncing, bouncing and dancing, dancing
It ruled as if dungeon’s dominant king
Wow! You look so happy; what’s the reason?
‘Girl! No more fun for you, ‘coz free I’ll be from this prison’.
Two giant men came forward and opened the door
Good Lord! It’ll be free, unkind humans is just animal’s lore!
Monkey screeched, ‘Meet me soon in the nearby forest
Where I meet my pals, play, eat, have fun and rest’
Happy to see the monkey’s joy, I walked ahead
Across the bushes, saw a van, a huge van in red
Giant men carried animals and dumped in the van
Shocked I was to see the sight and reckoned their plan
Why was my monkey friend inside, for what purpose?
It was clear as I read the van’s name, ‘The Great Royal Circus!’
Copyright © Neha Godambe | Year Posted 2012
DANCE OF THE SOCIAL VAMPIRES
We come out from the time of in between
the spark of life and where life's not so clean,
we make our habitat a place for you
to lay in love, and know love's coming to
a plague of life, like you have never seen.
All in our virtual reality,
that's never here, but goes on constantly,
all minds do meet and join in cyberspace
and make us all as one, the hyper-race,
who love the dark and how it sets us free;
and if our love won't come to self destruct
from bytes upon our necks, where blood is sucked
our nourishment, where death has made her claim
and put us here, each one, to look the same,
in just a flash of time, our lives are shucked.
Plain faced, and lacking any shame,
we come and go, refusing rules of game,
and excevate our bowel, where children walk
and rob the poor, for just some idle talk,
refusing to admit we are the only blame.
© ron wilson aka ron arbuthnot
aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015
I dance in my house, ballroom, and red floor
I swing, hip hop, fiercely slam…
But I’m good at none, zilch
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2011
Ice in the Center
Damn what nonsense
Have the License
With cars To
roads of speed
Oh So cold
Ice in the winter
I'm so bold
Out in the Center
Tremble like that
There fall flakes
and I fetch them
I may catch them
So come on everyone
Freeze your blood
To this wintry one
And Snowflake ton
Copyright © Jamshaid Ghani | Year Posted 2013
A club opened on the north side
full of women feeling festive.
Turned up, my boys are down to ride,
A club opened on the north side.
Of all the dimes, she caught my eye.
Dior fragrance, most impressive.
A club opened on the north side,
full of women feeling festive.
Copyright © Jared Pickett | Year Posted 2014
I have danced while music played,
and smiled, although despairingly,
through tears at smiles not meant for me.
My soft eyes, both brown and drab,
have strived to glitter, with scant success,
as others shone bright, reflecting light
beneath their lashes, lush and long.
While I lurched in crazy drunken spirals,
others, precise, performed their pirouettes
and slid across the polished floor
and smiled and laughed and more:
completely at their ease.
What terminal disease decrees
despair my partner in this dance?
Is there no chance to sit the music out,
a listener, discrete, devout?
While others whirl and dip, I slide and slip.
Must I be a half-a-pair with stumbling feet,
inept novice, graceless lout who, led about,
never has an easy air dancing with despair?
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
Carnelian robes permeate dreamtime landscapes
of parchment and prayer flag.
Smiling faces walk swiftly
through corridors of ancient walls
carved from living mountains,
spinning cylindrical wheels in their wake.
Patience of a thousand, thousand years,
we wait for peace.
Eagle feathers jounce
as soft moccasins dance heartbeat
on the prairie hair of Mother Earth.
Sacred sisters hold position in jingle dress rhythms
offering prayer pipes to their men,
who burn sweet grass as they fancy dance past.
Patience of a thousand, thousand years,
we wait for peace.
Hula dancers waft sea breeze
in the heat waves of Pele’s fire.
Warrior lines pace boundary between the worlds,
as molten lands part the waters
and oasis the humble in a paradise
where lei lines encircle life.
Patience of a thousand thousand years,
we wait for peace.
Condor circles as mountains spirits speak
telling stories of forever and ever.
Ancient peoples gather in raindrop mists
to nourish the living land
and feed the collective soul
the medicine of dreams.
Patience of a thousand, thousand years,
we wait for peace.
“Imagine all the people” sound waves and ipods
park bench hosts to afternoon drummers,
as momentum gathers
inner city gardeners and beekeepers
buzzing to the cyber shifts
of “sharing all the world”.
Patience of a thousand, thousand years
we wait for peace.
Copyright © Krow Fischer | Year Posted 2010
You see the dust flying all around,
All while all you can feel is the sound.
You see the moving rays of light,
As you dance with all of your might.
You feel every sensation,
All while you are overtaken by constant vibration.
You join in on the applause,
As your cheers resound, all with just cause.
Copyright © Marissa Faries | Year Posted 2015
.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 | Year Posted 2011
The SRQ was quite empty.
Few cars up/down three-o-one.
And me, alone, as usual, just driving.
But neon-red blinked once or twice.
The sign said "Cheetah". I remember -
A long ago I was there with my Ex.
And that was quite fun, I'll tell ya.
It was my Birth Day, lets just leave at that.
Quick check: no girlfriend, no potentials.
And been a while, no need to wait.
And one last thing, I checked my pockets - empty.
Not much to lose. So, where that parking ends.
Lights, flash and cameras. Amazing.
Oh, no cameras. That's right. Too bad.
The beauties range from top to bottom - tasty.
All sizes, shapes. What can I say - just zesty.
A dance and tease. The pole is main attraction.
A girl approached me, I would say - an 'eight'.
We talked a bit and her main action
Was polishing my knees, and it felt great.
Her mastery of work, without doubts,
Deserved a prize, and I agree with that.
She probably could have some, lill later.
But not right now, at least not yet.
The dancing girls, the midgets, the attraction.
The floor and stage were filled with dollar signs.
I threw a few. I am alive, you know.
But my eyes crossed just on the one that night.
The words are pointless.
The jaw is down, speechless.
I only say to lift the vale -
A Goddess ... on a local scale.
Sometimes luck happens. Pretty rare. Know.
But her sweet lips start whispering in ears.
About some BS, don't even know.
But that got moving all my gears.
No need to understand. Screw language.
No touching, just the ears and eyes.
Realization came a little later -
Her accent was like mine, just greater.
Would I this opportunity let go?
No Credit Cards accepted. I Know.
The ATM machine - solution.
Quick thinking. PIN. Completion.
Natasha, as I found out later,
Was wonderful, and sweet, and greater.
Too bad we knew where all this goes.
But that night hour for us was not in prose.
Copyright © Russell Grushco | Year Posted 2016
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2012
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2013
I welcome you all to the dance
A place where souls are held in trance
Destiny is our truest fate
Taking your soul will feel great
I was born unto this life
To distribute pain and strife
There is nothing you can do
I shall have this dance with you
As we dance across the floor
I shall show you what destiny is for
You can try with all your might
I will have this dance tonight
As we dance you should know
I will crawl up in your soul
So take my hand and join the dance
I hold your soul in my trance
No need to try and run away
With your soul I shall play
By the time I am through
Nothing that you can do
For I shall leave you like a shell
As I take your soul with my spell
There is nothing like a dark romance
So will you please join the dance?
Beauty can be rated by so many things
Like the noise birds make as they sing
Beauty is a flower growing from a seed
It also is a baby tender with its needs
If a person takes the time to look around
There is so much beauty on this earth to be found
Beauty can be a mountain all covered up with snow
Or it can be firelight with its entrancing glow
One thing in my life I have come to know
No beauty is as beautiful as the beauty of the soul
I posted this this way to show how
much poetry has changed me. I
guess now you understand why
I wanted to bury them old poems.
Sometimes like right now I just
can't help but cry for my pain is
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007
Strobe lights loud music
silver glitter balls
reflective tiny stars
dot the dance floor hall.
She was grinding and pumping
body toned tight and fast
she was the centre of attention
her choice her last dance.
She expertly glided
up and down the polished pole
her red satin outfit
simply amplified the show.
As she flawlessly moved
to the chants of the men
drawing into herself
shone a dazzling grin.
Becoming one with the pole
giving it her very all
this was her last song
head high standing tall.
As she smiled and waved
searching deep within her core
for this one final bow
were loud whistles and roars.
She quickly grabbed her outfit
running to the door backstage
in the comfort of her robe
kissed a picture daughter Paige.
I did this for you
my sweet baby girl
for college bound you are
with the money I have earned.
The men cheered loudly
she reached her last goal
turning from the mirror
freely flew her soul.
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
“Dance with me” he says.
She takes his hand
And follows him
To the middle of the dance floor.
He brings her closer to him,
Her arms wrap around his neck,
His hands upon her waist.
She lays her head on his shoulder
And sighs a small sigh of contentment.
As she inhales she smells his cologne,
And smiles; he smells so good.
They hold each other
And twirl in circles while the song plays
And when the song ends,
She longs for more.
This poem is different from my poem The Dance. This poem was written about me and my
boyfriend at prom, while the other was based off of the 1980s movie Dirty Dancing.
Copyright © Katy C | Year Posted 2010
My warm and glowing light
I cannot seem to sleep at night
For dreaming while I'm awake.
I dream of the kindness I see in your eyes
And I yearn to be able to hold you.
I dream of what Dubai is gonna look like
And how happy I think I'm gonna feel
Over and over I say your name, and only because it brings its you I've fallen in love with.
Lol, my friend I can't say it enough and I absolutely love it.
Aw man, if ever there were words, I'd sing them to you.
If only there were actions that showed you strong enough, I would do nothing else but
dance them for you.
But let me tell you this, my sweet love.
I have my whole life to sing
My whole life to dance
My whole life to dream.
And I want nothing more than to spend my life doing those things with you.
Copyright © Daniexelle Eledwhen | Year Posted 2010
The pinks, the yellows, the greens, the blues
Bright coloured outfits, bright sparkly shoes
These are the sights I love most to see
The horns, the whistles, my raving family
The beats, the bass, the atmosphere in the place
The music, the lyrics, the complete lack of space
The bond that you feel as you bounce to that sound
That feeling makes you free, nothing can bring you down
The lyrics that's spat when you all know the words
Makes the whole place erupt as you repeat what you've heard
The euphoria from the tunes that the turntable kings play
Makes you forget all your troubles, all your cares slip away
The description is perfect, summed up in one word
We are ravers, we are friends, we are family, we are PLUR
Copyright © Trinity Brooks | Year Posted 2016
With lightened heart and care-loosed feet
setting out hand-in-hand
to Celtic tune and callers bleat
of "hay," "gypsy," "allemand."
All that satin, cotton and silk
a'twirl in twos and fours,
topped by smiles white as milk
on dancers by the score.
Away sad thoughts, can you not see?
The dance is on, it's time for glee!
Consider the dance in contrast to
and not as to oppose,
this instant poised, then threading through
a line, and then who knows?
Tumbl' out your hair, O lady dear.
What need have you for care?
This dizziness will soon make clear,
so lose yourself in ayre.
Copyright © Chuck Novotny | Year Posted 2012
septimal-Three line poem in seven syllables(3:3:1)with an integral title on the theme of
art;music;literature;film in all their aspectsirony,paody and humour being an underlying
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009
A heart extended
An open invitation
To a masquerade
Where lovers dance and become
Something worse or much better
Copyright © Davor Miljkovic | Year Posted 2016
It all starts when you walk in the door
Men hoot and holler as you enter the floor
Your body shakin' in all the right places
As you look around you see the looks on the men's faces
The music and the electricity have you pumped, you just can't stop
You show the crowd how to Hoochie Koochie Bop
Another hottie comes out to show you up
You both compete to see who has the better stuff
The gyrations, all the steamy moves
Another hot mama enters the floor, she is well into the groove
The crowd goes wild as a man grabs your waist
You tell him I'm the candy you will never taste
He asks what does it take to get what you've got
You tell him to get off the floor, you can't Hoochie Koochie Bop
A female approaches you and grabs your hand
Something about this seems right, she understands
She smiles at you, you smile right back
You know she is only after one thing, that's a fact
She wants to take you to her penthouse loft
Maybe it's time for a one on one Hoochie Koochie Bop
The dance floor feels so good, so right
You tell her to go, you want to dance all night
A couple more shots of tequila will do the trick
You want to slow down, things are moving too quick
You are flawless on the floor, no one will mock
You are the master of the Hoochie koochie Bop
Copyright © Eugene Carmen | Year Posted 2008