Best Ballrooms Poems
Arousing opulence of ancient ballrooms
She creates her own make-believe world
Waltzing coyly in terpsichorean rhythms
Upon glittering stage where they sell love
Each time she caresses arms of a stranger,
Pretending to levitate in sultan’s harem
In glitzy appeal of polygamous mansions
Where she reiterates to sighs of ambivalence--
This used to be once the venue of glamour.
But her allegory of ardor quickly fades
As her disillusioned ego yearns for solace
When invisible bruises begin to ache
Having surrendered esteem to ruthless nights
Trading dead-feelings in lavish marbled halls
Where stench of alcohol, perfumes, and cigars
Traps perturbed anguish inside prison walls
From which, she knows, there’s no escape.
Initiation period for her was the hardest
When beauty and youth at height of apex
Squandered her magical Cinderella zeal
Abandoning fabled-castle her childhood built
Crying into that gutless, gruesome night
For lacking the force of fortitude to leave
Before she condemned her soul into abyss.
She’s worthless to the heartless crowd now—
A shriveled rose desolate in parched garden,
A discarded bottle of expensive scotch;
So, voicing contempt, like a caged bird she sings
About the wedding night she always fancied
Reciting lyrics, crooning spent feelings,
Whispering the names she picked for her kids.
Look closely at her, she has no chains now,
She can abscond easily whenever she wants
But, alas, no longer has she the desire to fly;
For her mutilated spirits relentlessly bleed
Ever since her own hands clipped her wings.
August 29, 2020
Placed 1st: Woman in chains poetry contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Inspired by Woman in Chains song by Tears for Fears
Six steeple towers, cold as steel, drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls no longer call when breezes wander by –
for, filled with dread to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.
Coiled candle sticks! Their twisted wicks no longer 'lume the cracks
with dying flame, subdued and tame, mid pendant pearls of wax,
since deference to innocence dissolved in molten tracks.
Above! The dismal ditch of dusk reveals a velvet streak,
through which the winter’s wicked winds will sometimes weave and sneak,
and faraway a cable sways, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.
Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, across the cruel moraine
reflecting white a wisp of light in ebon beads of bane
which casts a crooked smile across a faceless window pane.
Wan neon lights glow through the nights, through darkness sleek as slate,
while lanterns (hovered, high above, in lurid swinging gait),
haunt ballrooms, bars and bare bazaars, though no one's there to fete.
The souls who come with jagged tongue won't sing a silent psalm,
nor paint pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor pray for mercy, grace deferred, nor beg lethean balm,
nor yet redress the emptiness that shifting shades embalm –
they've seen, you see, life’s brevity, and face it with aplomb.
boy and girl intermingling
blood and veins overlapping
vulnerableness
a violet's caress
lavender kombucha
passion's persona
jasmine's megaphone
harmony's tone
music's movements
sincere sentiments
amethyst's kiss
hot and cold amiss
an artist's loaded brush
a starfish's bluish blush
a fairy dusting
mountain berry ice cream
jelly doughnut filling
ripened grapes distilling
regal drape twine
an eggplant's bloodline
royalty's manners
hung Lutheran banners
a swing-seated spiritual rest
creativity compressed
a poet's potential prose
a rare rose
a nose of lilac blooms
beauty's ballrooms
a pleasurable bruise
love's uncomfortable shoes
a plum's point of view
progeny of red and blue
evening sky's blending
a rainbow's favorite ending
Champagne and wine
Elixirs of the elite's delight
beverages of the upper classes
as they rendezvous and converse
amid soirées decked in elegance
mingling among their
latest art acquisitions
envied, even by the Louvre
The wonderful taste of caviar
In opulent ballrooms, near and far
where aristocrats and fashion find their air
ah yet sometimes I ponder
how the toiling working class
gets through monotonous days
I imagine them after their grind
at the Cox N Bull Tavern
drinking and lapping cheap O'keefe beer
chugging down their boredom
in idle gossip
planning petty crimes
Carcass evens out sand
Skin lands in your hands
Push past tainted smiles for better lands
Call me
When we reach the peak of boiling
and I've sweat out all my provisions
I'll answer
No need to memorize nonsense
in your numbers stead
I will always know your name
And it plays like the knocking of two outside a manger
There is nothing holy here
but lessons taught in down times
And so I practice dance for ballrooms I will never tread
You have never and will never see me
Call me
and I'll tell you how it's supposed to go
and you can teach her, them
It's too pretty outside to lose my mind
but you have it
Blow heat on kerosene and burn down your own monument
I'm tired
Heaven isn’t full of angels and clouds
There are five people that will meet you
They could’ve been close, or among the crowds
They’ll help you construct your life, like glue
The first person died because of you
And the mistake you had committed
Just because of the ball you threw
The man’s life was prematurely pitted
The second person was your superior
The searing flames remain
He made your leg inferior
To keep you from your bane
The third person you never knew of
But she knew of your father
She saw him yelling out of love
He didn’t care if he bothered
The fourth person was the love of your life
In halls and ballrooms of white she rests
Teenagers took the spirit from this woman, your wife
People from all over the world make up the guests
The fifth person was a little girl
Her life was full and pure
Her life was ended in a flaming swirl
Not saving her forced you from the way you were
The hands you took hold of
We’re not the hands you thought
Another girl would bring you up above
For a good life you did wrought
-Inspired by the book "The Five People You Meet In Heaven"-
It was a nice romance, she loved to dance
to the music's beat, but I had two left feet
The circumstance made us take a chance
And we enrolled for ballroom lessons.. (sweet)
I gave it a try and by and by
I began gliding across the floor
My confidence was high
I learnt tango, cha-cha, and many more
We practiced still when we were home
The Christmas Ball was near
These steps we honed for the ballrooms dome
To prepare for this elegant affair
In tux and gown we left the house
To the Ballroom we did go
Where others gathered with their spouse's
To glide to rhythms flow
The Ballroom grandeur was something to behold
With lofty ceilings, and decorations ornate
Perhaps to match the dancing that would unfold
My nervous feet couldn't wait
In rhythmic grooves we made the moves
In motions to and fro
To cha- cha steps, latin flavors flowed
The rumba wooed, as rhapsody behooved
We slid with grace to tangos pace
As I held her close to me
Our hearts raced, our souls embraced
As we became one with the melody
The Ballroom dance was such delight
As we dipped and twirled in movements quick
To trip the light fantastic
A waltz came on, we danced it slow
But it was late and we had to go
But we could have danced all night
Ill-fated crowds neath unchained clouds: the Silent City braved
against a sudden flashing flood, unleashing lashing waves,
which stripped its stony structures, blown with neutron bursts that laved.
Its barren streets, although effete, resound of yesterday
with chit-chat words no longer heard (though having much to say)
since teeming life (at one time, rife), surceased and slipped away.
Within its walls? Whist buildings, tall... Outside the City? Dunes,
which limn its frail forgotten tales, in weird unworldly runes
with symbols strung like halos hung in lifeless, limp festoons.
Above! The dismal ditch of dusk reveals a velvet streak,
through which the winter’s wicked winds will sometimes weave and sneak,
and faraway a cable sways, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.
Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, throughout the doomed domain
reflecting white, wee wisps of light in ebon beads of bane
which cast a crooked smile across a faceless windowpane.
Wan neon lights glow through the nights, through darkness sleek as slate,
while lanterns (hovered, high above, in silent swinging gait),
whelm ballrooms, bars, bereft bazaars, though no one’s left to fete.
Death's silhouettes show no regrets, 'twixt twilight’s ashen shrouds,
oblivious she always was to cries in dying crowds –
in foggy neap the spirits creep beyond the mushroom clouds.
No ghosts of ones with jagged tongues will sing a silent psalm
nor haunt pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor yet redress the emptiness that shifting shades embalm.
Continued in part 2
There you sit,
My baby grand,
Elegant and serene,
Full of untapped potential.
Your keys that sing
Like lovely songbirds
When struck right
Lay silent in waiting.
From across the globe,
Masterpieces arise.
From ballrooms and church halls,
Your melodic voice rings.
You are a siren; formerly loved
For allure and charm,
Now discarded over the ages,
Though your grace still holds true.
But alas, your beauty is being forgotten.
Your dissonant chords
No longer a means of expression,
But a chore forced down throats.
That is not what you are to me.
I take my seat in front of you
And brush the dust from your keys.
Little black birds on telephone wires
Scattered across the pages
Flit around in spite of me,
Impossible to keep up with.
I glance at the familiar names
Written at the tops-
Beethoven and Bach,
Mozart and Chopin.
They did not fabricate your marvel,
But simply tamed those
Little
Black
Birds.
Wing footed winter’s dance is of grey skies,
bare branch silhouettes in silver gowns
dormant magic within icy poses
brilliant halls bedecked with frosted flowers.
Into the Grand Ballrooms of springtime
a sweep of pastel ball gowns - all awhirl
Fresh pirouettes that gleam with sparkling dew
To bring alive the dreaming garden songs.
Until the partners change at summer’s start
Now gowns sway green- as green as willow boughs
And all the maiden’s heads are strewn with flowers
While love renewed replaces all past cares
Then as the leaves turn slowly - red to brown
All regal shades of velvet now adorn
The dancers bow - the way of beauty flown
Their hearts have pledged a promise to return.
CONTEST NO 470,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 LINES
Contest Judged: 7/25/2018 1:07:00 PM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
6th. Place
Published in PS It’s Poetry Available on Amazon.
A gentlefellow and maiden intermingle
on curiosity's swing-seated rest.
Vulnerableness is compressed between them,
as if a violet's caress requested their presence.
Harmony's tones are blown through the air,
like lilac's laughter scattering
as jasmine's megaphone hums.
Music's smooth movements dance within them
as if mountainberry ice cream were sampled
from their dreams with a fairy dusting.
An artist's loaded brush paints their moment.
A starfish's bluish blush comes naturally.
Beating blood and veins overlap silently.
Regal drape twine hides a stage
where beauty's ballrooms bloom before their eyes.
Love's uncomfortable shoes
leave a pleasurable bruise as they
peruse through fields of vine-ripened grapes.
An eggplant's bloodline finds royalty's manners
are hung like Lutheran banners
in the boldest of circumstances.
A stream of jelly donut filling
lunges into their tongues at once.
Tastebuds are given amethyst's first kiss.
Like hot and cold amiss, the warmth is blissful.
A rainbow's favorite ending begins indefinitely
as a projection of the evening's sky blending.
The progeny of red and blue is born by two.
Mountain of ice a scene so awfully
/\ 0
/\ ~ / \ o /\
~~~~ / \ ~~~~/ \ ^ /\ O o / \ ~~
¨~~/ \^^o 0 o------- /\ .... /\ ~~ ooo /\ __
~~ Titanic
sank
oo ~~
~~ ## darkness
xxxx
~~~~ xxxx in the
II III IIIII ////
sea
( cold ... deep o O )
_________ o oo _________death
there are no ballrooms for dancing on the seabed
adventure - X - swallowed by the sea ////. \\\\
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
07.05.2023
Anne-Lise Andresen
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
no 1215
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
3rd place in the contest
At the top of a very long, high hill
Stands a magnificent magnolia tree,
From which a sound most shrill
Calls to mind a charming fantasy.
It is said fairies live in the blooms
Those huge white, showy flowers,
[We cut to decorate pristine rooms]
Are their castle turrets and towers.
Comes winter the fairies migrate
On the backs of the south-winging bird
Of their existence there is no debate
One only has to take the tree’s word.
And, believe that the fairies are there
As surely as the silvery green leaves
Are their ballrooms for a spring dance,
A belief to which everyone cleaves ....
Such things must never be left to chance.
Written July 21, 2022
[dedicated to Caren Krutsinger]
It takes ten legs squeaking in sneakers
And eight rubber wheels heavily humming
On the checkered sparkling linoleum floor
To move a boy with a tumor
From one hospital floor to the next
For emergency tests
One nurse one doctor a technician leading the way
Mom and dad
Trailing the speeding parade with teddy bears and balloons
And faces full of frowns surrounding a white crib
And a mobile I.V. tower
Thrashing like an octopus fished from water
Whisk
Kicking down the hallways
Onlookers flattened against the walls
Get out of the way
And as all this passes by
From the corner of my eye
I see a creature on a gurney
Unattended
Parked to the side
Fossil of old woman with her head resting
On a mop of white hair
Everywhere
Her skeleton face framed like a crazed witch
No longer Queen dancing in the ballrooms
Toasting friends writing checks signing up her volunteers
Here she is
Abandoned
Vacuuming the stale air through her purple pursed lips
Eyes locked on my boy
Make way
Make way.
A glance is all it took
For cells to explode into pheromones
And charge light horse
As natures’ course took a chance
Where two souls did dance
On a stairway to the moon
With a rhythm so salsic, palm to palm, belly to belly
And breath to breath all coiled in Latin
To unleash a furnace of passion
To blast their past
With a lasting touch like kissed skin
For within, these souls love had blossomed
Like fields of everlasting love
That did sweep her away, to play
Beyond the ocean red shores, and left behind
A soul mate in bloom
To share a room with memories
Of perfumed smiles, and intoxicating ballrooms
To glass notes and eighty mile dreams
Where, Par Avion, love lingered in the mail
His heart flooded with love, he was swept away
To live in a doorway, frozen with the future
That led to a chapel filled with the four seasons
And a kiss on a bridge; A prelude to “I do”
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Author's note:
Submitting this first poem felt a little like walking into a classroom
for the first time - naked! Everybody can see what you have to
offer. The comments that emerged overwhelmed me. Just like my
wife did 23 years ago...