Retirement Dance Poems

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

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Details | I do not know? |
The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.



Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013




Details | Quatrain |
old post from last year.....

"Music Maestro," the conductor turns-
 The curtain rises and the ballet begins,
People sit on the edge of their seats-
Tasting the sweetness of the violins-

Dancers make not a single sound,
As their slippers touch the stage,
The audience, still, gazing forward,
Quite intimately engaged-

The music pitch is soft, then loud,
Creating a somber mood,
With cabrioles, jetes, arabesques, plies,
An ambiance of mystery, the dancers all exude.

Painting a captivating canvas,
Gracefully moving, white sylph-like silhouettes,
The "Prima Ballerina Assoluta" twirls,
Executing perfect en-point pirouettes-

This ballet tells the story,
Of how a peasant girl, from a broken heart, dies,
Her last dance - a spectacular performance,
Brings tears to the audience's eyes.

Nearing its dramatic ending,
Dancers complete their last entrechats,
Spellbinding, flawlessly done,
A standing ovation for them all-

The music stops - the Maestro takes a bow,
The curtain lifts, then falls,
The applause of the audience demands,
A number of curtain calls-

Ballerinas retreat backstage to celebrate,
Their "Prima's" last dance was today,
Inside, the dancers weep softly,
Outside, people praise the ballet-

Copyright © Genevieve Mika-Stevens | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

Speak to me my muted heart
where went your rhyming ways
The voice of a hearts deepest hour  
in mysteries a soul explained

Is your rhythm lost or simply hiding
in the noise of life as it whines
expression tied by hopes revising
sweet serenity and peace of mind

You run and ride with speed in your stride
ignoring all fear of the fall
you dig your heals and hold on tight
then question how momentum has stalled

An erie silence rests within
like unwritten lyrics implore
when inspiration is crushed to dust
supposing your song should be more

Poetry to you is a mountain 
raised and balanced in a hand
yet your fountain of speech has ceased its flowing
like the trek across untraveled sands

If inspiration is swinging from a chandelier 
opposing the status quo
and insight a vehicle to merely be steered
why now is there no marrow in your bones

Words keeping time with the beat of a life
linguistic expression out of step
lancing the poetess with a wordless knife
a beat-less palpitation in her chest

Return to me dear creativity 
like frankincense anointed and blessed
convey the miracle of a heart unlaced 
my poetic world at rest

Could it be I feel too much
farther reaching than any sea or the sky
or is this a symptom of insecurity
for all the where the when's or the why's

I am disassembled, rearranged
the safety net beneath me removed
everything familiar suddenly changed
with the muse of my rhythm unmoved

Perhaps when the seismic quake has passed
and my world is as it should be at last
I'll write of how transporting through worlds
was like a dance with a tornado as it twirls

Until then I'll retire my pen
and pray a new melody plays
some new, never known before tune
in the awe of poetic display

Copyright © Sarai Virden | Year Posted 2014