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Prose Poetry Dance Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Dance

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |


Voice: Jason Williams *** I danced! Whirling air around me, particles of sundust in tornadoes and hurricanes following me in awe I danced. Each night I wake and feel my legs The ones that once carried me and jumped so high The ones that took me away from a world I didn't want to be in Creating a dream, I danced. The music colouring a world with brushes and pencils With moves and muscle, practice and pirouette A world I thought no one could take away I danced. When my eyes are closed I dance My mind paints my body whole and healed A unicorn, a world of faeries, a galloping horse A world of dreams, veiled and away from hurt I live again I live I don't dance anymore But I write. My words, my lines, they carry me now My legs are useless, my arms and emotions Carry me So.... I dance again, in words I dance. *** 1st Place in contest: Practiced Passion Sponsor: Frank Herrera November 9, 2016

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Beautiful people

People make me smile the way 
their eyes shine when they talk 
about something they love 
when they feed me food. Or tell 
me how much they love me 
when I look into someone's 
eyes and see it I see that look 
in their eyes I see love in them 
When I see someone laugh and 
have fun in what they do 
The way they cry for there lost 
When they give me a smile and 
tell me how beautiful I am 
People are beautiful well some 
are and I wish someday I can 
find someone who will look at 
me and say "you have that look 
in your eye"    what look?
I want to find someone so 
beautiful in the inside I can't 
stay away they amaze me with 
what they say an do how they 
will dance in the rain and know 
every detail about me
Will bring me Starbucks on a 
rainy day and just talk about 
the stars 
I want someone beautiful

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


I sat in awe and watched them make the stage a world, where everything, everything could happen. The music took me away from where I was sitting. Drifting me on invisible lines. And I dreamt. I dreamt. Their hair in braids, their colourful clothes, their graciousness. A jump a deer, or swan. Arms a house to live in. Embracing all the world from love to death and beyond. And I danced, I danced, my music danced in my head, my words, sung on paper, were spoken on stage. Lived a life other than ink or syllables. I lived there. I bowed for my imaginary public. My mind a stage, all dancers, all words, all the music. This dream kept me alive. This dream makes me a poet who sees colours and music in words, and enjoys just that. *** October 31, 2016

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Sunrise Dance and Moonlight Dreams

A blossoming evening,serene valleys,meadows and alleys
Cottages in  distance twinkling little lanterne lights
Indigo moon peeping from blue black velevet skies
Sparkling diamonds dancing through the night
There i lay on fine grain crystals,in my own solitude
finding peace with myself,watching the spectacular view 
of a shooting star in temporarily brilliance,crossing over,
acting like a little child,making a wish upon a star
just one wish,as i watched Ugin approaching me
sommersaulting on white puffed pillowed clouds
He had a globe in his hand,a globe where i could see my future
a globe in where my one only wish came through.
On that night i lay down on golden sands
a palm tree the only companion,supporting my back
caressing me with passion, embracing me to safety
All alone I was ,alone and free,in my long white cashmere dress
feeling the breezin of the wind waftin gently through my long brown hair,
breathin on my neck,kissing my left cheek,passing to my right
flowing under my dress, brushing my pink lips,swifting,in circular movements.
That was the night my fingertips found music once again,
on silver strings of a spanish guitar,as my bare feet played with coloured corals
There i was in my own stolen moments,the universe smiling at me,
the angels in radiant chariots flying over,as faries birthed life 
and performed an orchestra of magical moments. 
There I was gazing at the mediterranean waves in inward movements,
as sailing boats left the shore,reaching far away lands,finding new horizons.
There i remained,my thoughts not anchored anymore,rowing to the ends of the sea
living in waking dreams,smelling flowers in never ending gardens.
There I was,my journey accomplished ,singing  the sweetest song of love.
There i lay between verses of awake and asleep,hearing birds tweeterin in trees
as I watched dawn cover dusk and it was sunrise.

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

When We Met

          ~When We Met.~
Battling everyday is so hard to maintain a healthy 
brain to keep up with our everyday work our 
thoughtful speculations of wanting the impossible 
to take place,has to change,by gaining self confidence
and become independent.

When we just met at the hotel lobby for recollection 
of work,accompanying us the sounds of 4 of July in LA. 
Our ceaseless conversations felt flawless immediately.
A faultless intimate sharing took over a mixture of
work and pleasure.

When we just met,our loving nature coincided with
authentic sounds of fireworks plus its music filling 
the sky with a huge combination of the most
beautiful Technicolor's of fireworks.

The sounds with musical lights combined together
allowed our eyes to sparkle more than ever,both 
of us became in a pensive dreamy mood for a rightful 
discussion about how love can start by romancing,
to evolve later into a durable long lived relationship.
He was so much my type of a man,an artist in his work,
very authentic,fancy,& has an unforgettable 
sense of humor.

Smiling drinking and eating with our discussing, 
constantly allowed us to remain in high spirits, 
behind us the sky illuminated our joy of being 
together,that delightful lasting closeness felt 
like a challenge awaiting for the unpredictable 
to happen,the tremendous sounds of fireworks 
accompanied with a charming tempo ringing
in out thoughts.

Instantly our touching hands felt permissive,
stimulative,devoted,his voice transformed into 
an echo inviting me to later go up into his room 
to heat up the bed and enjoy cooling off our desires.
Having asked me before about what color of roses I love,

Later on hand by hand once inside the room it was filled 
with yellow roses everywhere,and layered on the 
beautiful bed.
Suddenly, he threw my hand bag and held me so tight 
to waltz to the sounds of music,a telepathy between us 
and the sounds rang in our ears as a sweet mixture of music.
Immediately took my hand kissed it with his warmest lips 
begging to love me tonight,what a gentleman our body 
connection was authentic,flirting as a start was conceived 
in an artistic way,kissing wise and making love was 
memorable, slowly the sounds ended while gradually 
our naked bodies parted in the morning when our 
routine for work had to take place. 

We parted with a long sexual kiss,emancipating
another brutal night with a candle light.

Therese Bacha

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

When Snow Came To Waltz

 When Snow Came To Waltz

Like animated dancing silhouettes
Stilled in time—
Caged on all sides by the chilling whiteness,
We waited in frozen

The sun had abandoned us, leaving
Only a faint reflection;
What could he do anyway?  All
Is like a maximum security of nature
Lock down.

Struggling with itself, the human spirit
Wearily weird with wanton wrath—
Warning unheeded.

Bending knees cringed
In once forgotten prayers—searching;
Howling winds and chilled waxed ears listened.
Void answers. 

Whispering fires wane and beg with hunger; but
The wood cupboard has gone bare—and electricity?
She ran away and hid in the bitter dark!

As promised, blizzard waltz in and sat quietly.
With stoic patience, she waited to dance and go her way.
But our fuel dance cards had turned to cold ashes.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Concerto of the Enchanting Night

Concerto of the Enchanting Night
 Arabic Poem by: Fadhil Aziz Farman *
 Translated Into English by:
 Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)

You suggest the songs
And leave me deep
In the splendor of the rhythm and melody. 
Drag my day out of the dream to wakefulness 
I have not known 
But the philosophy of dreams 
In all my days.

You suggest the songs
And leave me floating in a wave of fragrance 
Showered down By Lynol Ritchie 
With his love songs 
Or by Yanni with his tunes.
And dance
Do the tango 
Do the waltz 
Do the ballet or the jerk dance
Dance as you please 
Or spin around the Earth-pole,
O symbol of amazing taste, 
Rouser of lightning in the sky,
And crown of all beauties.
Here I am intoxicated
By the melody pulsating in your figure 
And by the bashful roses 
On your cheeks,
O sweet wine in my chalice and my vats.
You suggest the songs
And at the end of the round
Put your head on my chest, 
O child of my poems, 
And listen to my heart singing them 
With the virgin tears of joy 
Flowing down the violin’s cheek.
You suggest the songs
You suggest the melody 
And hint the sweet words
They’ll come to you 
Then hold me to your chest like a child.
I will need your ear 
To whisper to you 
All that baffles my heart 
And my tongue 

You suggest the songs
And strew them
Such as roses 
On the desert of my life.
What remains for us 
Of all our years, 
But joy
Strewn like roses
And like dew
On the seconds? 
Translated by Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 * Fadhil Aziz Farman is a poet from Iraq
 The original poem in Arabic https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10202962662165969&set=p.10202962662165969&type=1&theater

Copyright © Inaam Al-Hashimi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Racing with the Sun

Identifying as a Taoist-Christian hybrid,
a polypath feasting on root systems
of East meets West
Right greets Left
Yin embraces Yang
does not make me a good Christian
or a good Taoist.

However, these permaculturing designs
on polyculturing polypathic sensory-neural healthy outcomes
do seem to help me become the best
transregenerational evolving Taoist-Christian
I can imagine
and care for with gratitude,
peaceful empathic trust
as both sufficiency of political power
with cooperative nutritional economic enrichment practice,
orthodoxy of experiential non-violent unitarian intent.

Yang without Yin,
an angry fire-breathing SunGod 
of vengeful omnipotent wrath--
universally frustrated fertility.
Yin without Yang
becomes a whimpering wilting virgin
without hope of ever giving birth
or even experiencing pleasure with integrity
in Her cell-bound reiteratively ruminating purgatory.

But Earth abhors this double-binding vacuum,
absence of healthy prime-binomial abundance
as light not bilateral-square rooted through past and future 
fades dual dark.

To become full-bicameral poli-economically humane
is to empathically trust
not only Nature's absence of absent primal 
nature/spirit relationship,
but to enrich maturation by fertilizing these primal hybrids,
health as loving life's intention,
yang as yin's bilateral reiteration,
trusted PolyNomials actively evolving co-empathic notnot PolyPaths
until we together emerge through this Great Transition
belonging to and with Earth's Tribes
(0)-sum prickly-goos (Alan Watts)
Convex fractal Concaves (Buckminster Fuller)
universal unitarians (UUA)
ecopolitical revolutionaries of co-empathic trust
that love conquers evil through dipolar absorption
as evil defeats love
through over-yanged monocultural exertion.

Love and co-arising pleasure grow
as long-suffered excesses of mutual immune mistrust give way
to all colors matter
as all octave frequency balances and harmonies materialize resonant experience
more positively meaningful to us than their dissonance,
as all lives and deaths matter,
and not only anthrocentric lives,
not only biocentric lives;
we materialize-incarnate most optimally as ecoconscious lives
and deaths
within Earth's great multicultural co-empathic arias of operation
perpetually revolving ecocentric dance.

It is a monoculturing pace
of human ecopolitical race
suboptimizing historical-cultural distrusts of racism
for our ultimately promised polyculturing peace
waiting within our great transitioning wings.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Her Never Ending Creation Story


We all have heard The Greatest Creation Story Ever Told,
and it is
as title so boldly baldy states.

Yet, within and without,
before yet also after,
this History of Earth's CoRedemption
deepy lies
highest and healthiest Her EarthStory
born of Sun,


RNA's ReGeneration of Creativity Story
nurturing nature
embracing trees of life
and of dualdark cosmology,
uncomposing our History song and BusinessAsUsual dance.

Spring's decomposition prophetess sighing surf
remembering future's reincarnate regenerative preferences
for health-cooperative networks,
fire-sided circles extending family political legends
and hopes,
dreams and fears,
designing and writing PermaCultural Operas out of bird and cricket songs,
then circling and spiral dancing these forward-hoping gifts
through labyrinthine polycultural productions,
RNA's love-sprouts.


HerStory's Musical TragiComedy,
in Four Acts,
begins as embryonic healthy Uracil with Cytosine,
composting winter,

anticipating this Great Transitional Spring
of regeneratively green rainbows,
crystal-fractal PreMillennial trinitarians,
birthing cooperative 4D nondual co-arising WinWins
as WealthWithoutWalls nurturance,

Followed by Summer's PostMillennial regenerative climax
of health-resonant political-economic resolutions,
full-octave (0)-scaled cooperatives
of opulently lattice-networked slow-growth DNA development
and kinda sexy in a transgenderational
thrustingly and receivingly with gratitude
empathic kinda way.
HerStory's consumer-production diastatic balance

Closing with Fall's integral harvest of polypathic manna
within and from Earth's Heavenly flow-streams of sap,
pee and sperm,
pollen and seeds,
bicamerally pumping blood and surfing in and out waters
of perennial post-climatic baptism

into advent of yet another Winter
sitting in warm solidarity circles
around HerStory's nurturing fire,
singing PermaCultural Operas of health nurturing EarthTribes, 
together at love's great culminating last,
recalling unfortunate former climatically competitive History
flying apart.

Earth's Greatest Nurturing Intelligence Story
tells tall fall
and listens deep ecosystemic function,
presence of conscious co-empathic mind
producing season's of health v pathology development.


Sadly, death is as necessary to ecologies of intelligible life
as monocultural competitions are to organic multisystemic cooperation,
and so this HerStory as HiStory NonDual Two must pass
into a final Fall Curtain,
and yet time enough for Earth's fully self-sustaining regenesis
is eternity and omnipotence enough for me
within autumnal HerStory.

Then again,
there was that implication
of slowly rising understoried regenerative love-curtain
equivalent to Fall's degenerative notnot desertion,


recycling Her New CoEmpathic Golden Hibernation Stories,
born of murmuring multicultural lulla-goodbye farewell namastes,
echoing reiterations of Aloha Time's HerStoric 
bilateral dipolar remembering,
reincarnational cosmology of NotNot Over
'til the rainbow-regenerative Lady
finishes singing EarthTribe's Great ReGeneration Opera.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

An Affair with Death

I knew I was gone when I went into the sleep..
There was no guilt or pain insight..
I’ve never had an affair of the heart.. of mind, body and soul..
The comfort I felt was beyond words from my mind...
And I was destined to fall under his spell...
The fire I felt on my skin began to rage..
 I became like an animal in a cage..
Every time I drew back, he pushed me forward..
I could feel his arms embrace me like no other,
His strength overpowered me and breathing became a necessity..
I gasped each time we danced the dance..
I could feel life’s breath leaving my body..
As he held me tighter and tighter..
I have never known such ecstasy as I drew each breath as the last..
Don’t know why I gave in so easy, temptation is not one of my virtues..
I’ve always weighed the pro’s and cons..
Who is this man of many tricks that I would succumb to him ?
I am smarter than this I thought in one lucid moment..
Be gone I said.. leave me alone I do not want to follow you..
All you want is my soul... and I am not ready...
When I am I will call you....

PS. This was a recent experience I had in the ICU...

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Patient Prayer for Clemency The Etherial Dance of Grace

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98LcbCkhqJs ~ (~) ~ ......... ........ ....... ............... ............... ............... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ........ ........... ............... ................... ..................... ""Patience... !" - trembling-wanton - weary-the open-hand." "BOUND... !" - lowly-lands, rise-quietly - kiss; The-Son!"" ""Benignity-Simple, Holy; Smitten- promenades... dandling along with- them as would-He With-Child - yes; exulted; undefiled - "Love-gracious--always; knows-faith; surrendered... perceives; perseveres... remains - Joy-His; Worthy; though-rejected; defiled-dejected-still... moreover; abandoned-alone by-some - dances throughout; All; Eternity... !"" ............... .......... ............... ""Bound, by indifference-denial- shame, bitterness; yes-silence; "UNITY."" "LOVE strait-away-soaring I-know-lye-beyond - beholden--Joy; Grace, Peace... compassion-kinder - Faith-even-reliant - made-relevant; through-hope, Forgiveness this-Truth - Virtuous... in its-Mercy... !" ""Dusty-old-prison captor-defiant-unwilling-will-not; no-never let-go - abiding... We-apart - alone... !" "Cored 'round Our neck choking--Us - eager-feet- once trudging-the-road; sadly-now - "Trammeled--moreover--yes-still bereaved... We struggle... !"" ""Yes all-We-can ask-for-now - "God!" - I feel... can-see now-Us-All... humbly... if-only-yes... if-only - seeking; patient-in-prayer- for-deliverance - "His..." "Clemency...?"" ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ .......................... ....................... .................... .................. ............... ............ .......... ....... ..... ... .. . ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ "Words-form-two-teardrops-falling-and-rising-to-greet-one-another-through-the-acceptance-of God's-Grace-together - spinning-as-a-top-through-The-Greater-Example of-His-Love- Mercy/Forgiveness, His-Son-Jesus - relishing-or-dancing-if-you-will-with-Him-in-the Spirit/Sacrifice/Gift-of-His-Life-of-Surrender/Rise-Through-Him - abiding-as-one-in-reverence- of-this - for-All-Eternity." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIMOdVXAPJ0 ""King Davids secret was his thirst for God's abiding mercy in his life, and to be taught this and move to show it in all he said and did." "He knew that mercy knows its own desire, is forever kin to it."" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lp6yT2rz0iA&feature=related

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

My Verbal Ballerina

You are like a ballerina,
But never dance upon a stage
You spin and jump and twirl
With written words across my page.
You make my life come alive
With the words that you say.
Make my blood run with passion,
For this you have a way.
Always with a verbal gesture
That leads me to your web. 
Can't seem to escape your lair
My infatuation never seems to ebb.
The things that you write
I feel are only for my eyes.
The way that they are written
My mind they hypnotize.
I am not such a fool
To think I’m the only one,
Who longs for your company
When your dance is done.
In my imagination
Your words only dance for me.
You have no other partner
I'm the only one, you see.
So please keep on dancing
With words written for my heart.
I will savor every word
Of your dancing verbal art.

Copyright © Donald Eissler | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

We Dance

We Dance

“I’ll prepare the entre.”
“I’ll tackle dessert.”
“He swings around me to reach the fridge.”
“I reach behind him to get chocolate and sugar.”
“Chocolate pudding?”
“He stands beside me-peeling by the sink.”
We touch – 
Barry White plays softly, quietly.
Egg yolks, milk, chocolate, and corn starch in a pot.
“Excuse me – oven needs to be on.”
“No problem –“ 
My hips move back – making room.
Oven’s preheating – burner’s on medium.
I stir chocolate velvet.
He sprinkles toasted breadcrumb.
Semi-circle round his back for glasses on the shelf.
We touch –
We smile –
We dance.

Copyright © Natala Orobello | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

War dance


The war dance is about to start
The country devil is getting dress
The dancers are warming up
The sasa is sounding
And the kola is prepared

Farmers rushing to the town
The cutlasses sound on the rock
The men are moving forward
Leaves in their mouth
Fire coal on their body

Every village is participating
The whole town in action
People moving forward and backward
Gazing at the dancing arena

The country devil appeared
The hunting dogs put their tales in
The country devil face cannot be seen
His legs are long like the tallest tree in the world
His height is a plane in the sky
Oh! What a seen

All the women move a distance
The men have taken charge
The dancers are shaking the ground
Dust is every where
The drummers are giving real sound
Du-ka   du du ka- ka ka du du du
The country devil shakes his body
Brings out fire from his mouth
The town chief smiles
And all the villagers unite

Copyright © Olivia Nimley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

She wasn't, Why was I

Little letters come to me, I see her there, from here.
Th colors, the little black dress, the lime green sneakers and hair bow.
If I had told her what I knew, I'd been in fear.
Those colors that sing out to her, talk so softly for me now.
She was adorable, yes, the dress, and her semi-curled hair.
Rarely did I think that she would pick me, simply by herself.
Little did I know, oh the eloquence of my own snare.
There she goes, she doesn't want to dance: No, that's disgusting itself.
Here she asks, talk with me, how can I refuse the beautiful request?
Ah how well she thinks, somehow I wonder how she knew.
That every night she would leave, save me, to return to her rest.
Aye, that, she knew just what to say.
How is it that she is gone now? Oh, gone...
Will emotions play us ever the pawn?

Copyright © me Me | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


Tuned Ebony Shades of Ecstasy

Here we are—
black as the night;
sable souls singing songs
of Nubian love—slow dancing
on opaque rhythmic nimbus clouds.

Unshackle melodies of generations
flow from charcoal tributaries 
slowly undulating—
streaming between ebony sheen banks.

Estuaries of ecstasy splash
joyously into the wetness
of the dark hued sea of our love.

Tuned and harmonized
in the abyss of relief,
fading moans moor themselves;
waiting the coming of the next tide.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


Salty air breathed from crystalline peaks
I breathe in And catch a glimpse 
of the dancing, bowed bodies.

They perform a graceful ballet;
like arrows shot from an archer’s bow;
they leap, breach and roll.

Their eyes have seen ages of brine and shifting sands.
I wonder if they really are the “Watchers”; 
like the “Dogon” stories portray them.
Did they once have legs instead of fins 
and can we really be their children?

Perhaps that is why they are so quick to help us;
Why a child who can not speak can suddenly come to life?
He won’t be silenced again, 
after all, he swam with the dolphins.  
Could it be the magic of the dance that heals?

Odd, that they are always there when needed
And can transform a stagnating life 
into a miraculous moment of rebirth!

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Dance

She carries dinner and sweet tea
to her man in the field
as purple hews of sunset
streak down mountain sides.

An evening breeze is welcomed,
cooling the damp dress
clinging to her shape
in the shadow of night.

Darkness settles over Heaven and Earth,
bare feet caress rich soil
as bodies held tight in rhythmic embrace--

Copyright © Tamara Hillman | Year Posted 2005

Details | Prose Poetry |

wind dance

I thought I saw the wind blow, saw it stop, turn and look back on its work. It let out a sigh of relief on a job well done. I thought I saw it smile with immense satisfaction at the destruction in its wake after a whirlwind. I thought I heard its laugh its joy when it was in a good mood after kissing the hot parched people and plants through a cool breeze.  It groaned unsatisfied when it whistled and none came out to welcome the approaching rain storm. Yes the wind speaks, laughs cry’s yet above all you feel its loneliness in its silence and solitude as it roams to and fro upon the earth with no resting place. Does it not weary of its constant roaming? 

Copyright © norah natty maturure | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

Me and you, you and me

The mood is set….
Me and you, you and me
The warmth of Love swims through us both
My touch on your body
Soft and sensual
Your skin lingers,
Your emotions begin to spill like an overflowing caldron
O’ how you desire this moment between…
Me and you, you and me
Your gentile hands on my body,
The touch so delicate 
And your lips against mine
For these feelings we share cannot be defined
Our bodies become one
Together in Love….
Me and you, you and me
Your sweet embrace I cannot resist
And you the same 
Our bodies’ dance together,
A dance of passion and Love
Still as one.
For this moment will end
But the passion,
The Love,
Will last forever…

Copyright © aj merlino | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

Me and Catalina ( A Western Tale)

I had fallen in love with a young Mexican maiden in the town of El Paso
Completely mesmerized by her eyes had me following her wherever she would go.  In 
Rosa’s Cantina, the music would play and Catalina would whirl.  She became my world and 
there was nothing I wouldn’t do for this Mexican girl!
	A wild young cowboy came in with his handsome features and wicked grin.  He 
carried arrogance within and he immediately rubbed me wrong.  His lecherous eyes watched 
my Catalina dance as the pianist played and sang his song.  Too much whiskey, he’d 
consumed.  As this young stranger went to dance with my Catalina, I jumped up grabbing 
him by the arm, spinning him around to face me.  A powerful right hand knocked me to the 
ground and his look was so deadly.  My Catalina screamed, ran to my side, kneeling, 
touching my face.  A pistol in his hand, wild-eyed, I said, “Outside.  This is not the place”.
	It was high noon when the patrons poured out of Rosa’s Saloon.  The heat could 
not be avoided or beat, for it was a hot June…

	I and the young stranger stood facing each other in the center of the dusty road.  
Hands ready at our sides anticipating the next episode.  On either side of us, people young 
and old stood quiet for the event.  My fear was controlled and I itched to draw my deadly 
instrument.  I was distracted for in my eye, in the sky was the glare of the sun.  I did not 
want to die for as he flinched the bullet exploded from my gun.

	Cowboys would later say it was the faster gunplay they had ever seen.  Lighting 
fast came a blast from my quick draw.  I felt a fire burn through my chest but I knew the 
handsome stranger was dead.  Catalina knelt hugging me to her breast and her tears began 
to fall.  The young stranger lay lain but would my death be worth the kill?  I felt my life-force 
drain and an eerie chill.  I listened to Catalina cry as I was scared inside Rosa’s cantina.  I 
did not want to die and leave my dear Catalina!

	Closing my eyes, I lost conscientiousness.  To my surprise, I awoke, seeing my 
princess.  “Catalina, I thought I had died and left you alone!  Kneeling closer to my 
bedside, “The bullet went through just below the collarbone!” I said, “Marry me Catalina. For 
you are my world, my heart”.  She kissed my lips, “Yes, but first I must depart, as my 
Father is ill but I will return to you, soon.  The next day, I watched her leave for Nashville 
with the promise to return the next June…

*Written fir Deborah Guzzi’s “Giddy Up! Little Doggies/Watch Out For the Indians”

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Dance Before The Moon - For Vienna

We hear the soft playing of many strings
In heaven we both do alight
Heart’s singing in the dead of night
Standing in the moonlight’s glow how we do shine
The heart beats to angelic song
Come into my arms for the dance of romance
We shall waltz before our lover’s moon
Your body held in love’s embrace as we twirl
Our personal spotlight fills our hearts with joy 
Your eyes hold mine enraptured as we dance
I always drown within their reflective beauty
You are an angel in heaven’s domain
I dance with you through the star filled fields
Moonlight falls upon you and you are alive with light
An angel holding heaven’s glory this you are
We shall dance through night ‘till morning breaks
Forget all your worries and your cares
In our embrace you shall know only joy and peace
Our shadows ever play across the moon
Love’s embrace held within a dream always
The mystical rays of life ever caress you
Forever remember A Dance Before The Moon

Copyright © Vladislav Raven | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Dancing Soul Disorders

If I could write as dance,
sometimes get down mean
and sexy dirty blues,
recreating confusing hybrids
not safely translated in static language,
these ecstatic moments
entered and left without embodied holy shadows,
remembered fondly but soulfully
in smiling enspirited muscles
unwilling to let go of sensual life
without breathing glistened music.

Refrain training love moments to last through
passion rails of kicks and licks
balance taking giving leaps of faith
Earth will hold these swirling bones
bound arteries of flowing bliss
and dripping pulpy agonies.

Dance scripts unveil
moves and positions already body revealed and loved
within Earth's kindness 
and just balancing reward,
truth in and through beauty,
healthy love abundance in rich organic life
and peacefully arresting death,
pregnant silent pause.

I lust not merely right write
but dance
with each cell swelling to sing
big and small
fast then slow
up as down
around each day's choreography
on through abandoned freedom's passion night.

If I could dance as write.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

With-In A Dream

If only I could ride upon the back of a dragonfly~
O', what journey I would behold...

I receive the wind's forced breath against my face-and revel in my locks rolling in the vibrant 
We hover just above a splash of rainbow painted flowers, 
that kiss my toes with open petals of joy.
The scent so pure, 
shall decorate my skin forevermore.

We crest high into the ocean tinted sky.
Humbly greet birds which share in our gift,
and delight us in symphonies of angelic praise.

I close my eyes for a startled moment,
as we dance through a vineyard of bumble bees-
"Buzz,Buzz," They caution sternly to us, their unexpected visitors.
A smile imposes my lips at the thought of their disrupted task;
Only to pass them, look over my shoulder and witness their purpose resume within natural 

A shimmering mirror of water now lies underfoot.
I feel the warmth of the sun's reflection cast up under our joined form.
"Faster, faster!" I command my fairy-friend.
As I lay down flat and wrap my limbs snugly around to secure myself, our speed begins to 

With quick, steady, pace, we descend onto the water's surface. 
Skips and twists- twirl into a tango of splashes,
which shower my face with each perfectly intentional bounce.
The tickle rises up from deep in my belly,
I laugh, a laugh full of true obliviation.
Dragonfly now lifts, higher and higher we go- 
As I glide upon heavenly stilled wings.

We drift within utopian clouds, 
they pass before our sights like vapored curtains before a theater of whimsy, unveiling a 
The presented gift, is that of majestic mountain tops that promise the scent of sweetly 
perfumed evergreen. 
This aroma leaves me breathless. 
The aroma evokes childhood visions of wishing stars, 
and kisses goodnight.
I inhale the memory for a moment longer, 
cherishing the scent before I must once again grow older.

My friend I have been blessed to dance in the breeze with,
slows to a transcending idol.
We encircling the center of a noble rose.
We descend gently into the heart of the queen of flowers,
and land on her royal stage.
I delicately climb down, lay upon her silk; 
and closed my eyes to dream. 
Dreams which have atlas' transpired to become,
my long awaited reality.

If only I could ride upon the back of a dragonfly~
O', what journey I would behold...


Copyright © Madelynn TJ | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |


Around the floor She flutters, Like a butterfly diving in the Blues on the sky. Her each and every step Has an intoxicating, Maddening power Which overwhelm All the spectators. A great dedication and much Determination on her Each foot step. She feeling the rhythm Like her heart beat. Each & every notes of The melody she clearly Painting by every foot-step. A dance so elegant, A dance so brilliant, A dance around the ballroom floor, So sweet, sensual and alive. A flawless flow with the melody With such a delightful grace. Every steps, each moves, A dance filled with love and passion.

Copyright © Chittaranjan Dey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

Ballet In The Sky

The whole air is dancing-
     Ravenous thunder rumbles
        Lighting curls her jagged bolts
          flashing like gold through amythyst, sapphire skies

I'll not allow your image to spoil my view
   With you-rain would cry it's droplets 
          as it mumbled whispers to my haunted heart
               Oft' times-rolling clouds rumbled their voices in my soul


Now, I dance in scarlet flames that spark across the heavens
   gliding thru turquoise skies with copious clouds... 
       that delicately clothe my body             
           pirouetting gracefully ...
               to the peaceful harmonic rhythm of rolling thunder

My flesh no longer aches for your barren touch
   I shall not desire your hand opon my beautiful rain drenched skin
       whetted now with golden silken tears

My memory quickens...
      I no longer remember your face or hunger for your sterile love
         I'll not dance to your chaotic rhythm

Nature baited me with her sweet breath
     Embraced me in her loving arms-
         singing her gentle rain of tears

    baited me with your hook of selfish love

My heart now dances with another
     One who bathes my soul in fertile soil
         He feeds me with his hungry, selfless love...

   fed me worms with your stingy heart   

Copyright © anne p. murray | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Dance of Souls

Within you I find an ocean of pure waters
My tongue thirsts to drink of your love, to dip my soul into your magic waters
my arms yearn to embrace your spirit, to leave time behind 
to journey beyond desires where our love knows no beginning or ending
Kisses will be as grains of sand strewn across the universe
endless in number, but truly only one that never ends 
The sharing of spirits, hopes, and dreams will be our breath
Faith and trust will not know of turmoil
all doubt will be buried in an unmarked grave
Our life a blessing to be nurtured as a child
To see myself within your smile as you are the mother my own
Your heart a reflection of my own
Your voice echoes such music to my ears as to pale all orchestrations
No instrument can speak of such great beauty
as your words which dance upon the winds of my heart
A waltz of resolution
The Dance of Souls

Copyright © Robert Beam | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Dance the Sycamore

Her partisan skin melted
to a grey pale paste
Debauched in glory
and Moaning Lisa when she gave up the ghost
for skin weaved
under the light of a Venus beam
mounted the demon hill and lay a backhand on my throat

The universal untold and unfoldeth
by chance
we are a million miles 
into the dance
A hungry mongrel child
 - Atlas’ apprentice
Dancing Moaning Lisa in silver gown
rolls herself and nowhere to lay my baldy head

She reigns underneath the sycamore
for a speck of dust in her eye lies

Copyright © niall cuddy | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


 only thing i can say
this is our day
to jump bump and hump
get it wheeling
the feeling
we just play
its our

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Dreamless Tree Dweller

Swaying. Dancing. Let me carry you.
Dance for me. Dance for me. Dance for me.
It's beautiful how you hold on so tight, but reach so far.

Up and Up and Up.
Begging sunshine and starlight and moon beams to fill your cupped palm.
We' can sip from it together but we both know you'll never be satisfied
Until your silver leaves can dance to the symphonies of singing constellations.

The diamonds sprinkling down your face would look like tears.
But you, and I? We both know this isn't real. Put away your fears
And dream for me. Dream for me. Dream for me

And please darling, Let us never wake.

Copyright © Natelle Dei | Year Posted 2013