Best Belting Poems
There is freedom in her beauty. A confidence that comforts me deep in my soul. I am in awe. Purely. She may as well be flying, I cannot take my eyes from her wings that spread wide as the sky. Her song is deep and disciplined; at her command. The places in my gut that ache she shares and makes words where there were none. It's as if we've known each other before. Pieces of our souls belong to one another. So extraordinary but reachable through the humanity in her eyes. A sadness a deepness that resonates with me. It is within me. Sadness within the womb of woman, scars on the heart always leave behind more than ruined tissue. She gets that. She gets me. A superstar, the world cannot take their eyes off her. She is a flame, the view of the ground from the roof. Inarguably gorgeous, striking whether in her bare feet or the latest fashion. Her sexy is audacious, admirably we watch, when it's over we are inspired to be sexier. With a flip of big hair she becomes demure without parting with her sexiness. She is what woman is. So feminine while so in charge. The stage rumbles underneath her feet. She smiles into the crowd. A smile that the millions of dollars of lights behind her cannot compete with.
A smile that speaks
Saying... there is no place she eos rather be.
Her love of melody of sing of the release that comes with belting out your feelings becomes my love. We are strangers but in a heavenly moment we become one.
Sisters of the soul. Girlfriends. Her greatest gift to me is her strength.
Lullabies give birth to a new sunrise,
and the wind lies still in the valleys low…
Sapphire skies sunken in static eyes,
the birch trees bark a belting blow…
Where echoes dance in sweet romance,
and love is whispered before the rainbow…
Transfixed in trance a gadded glance,
where hungry hearts begin to borrow…
For my love stands still near the daffodil,
where the meritable meadows grow…
Your love has lost its will a splatted spill,
and now my heart is full of sorrow…
My shallow screams in singing streams,
as time washes away the wounds of woe…
I’ve lost my dreams where beauty beams,
where the wind lies still in the valleys low.
July.12.2018
An incomplete love story
Sponsored by: Faraz Ajmal ,
I have a dear feathered friend who greets me each day at dawn!
He likes to dwell in and around the crab apple tree on my lawn!
From his perch he serenades me on wintry Colorado morns so drear,
Cheerily belting out trilling melodies that are so pleasing to my ear!
Oft I've wondered why Robbie Red Breast opts to winter here at all,
'Specially since all his friends flee these icy climes for Florida each fall!
While they bask in the warming sun enjoying cocktails of orange juice,
He prefers wintering here with me along with all its nippy abuse!
'Tis a wonder that the little creature can manage to survive,
Since there are no wiggly worms for him upon which to thrive!
Robbie doesn't worry - The Omnipotent Creator sees to his daily needs,
By providing an occasional hapless bug and a few wind-blown seeds!
I think that rascal relishes wakening me from my slumber each morn,
As he flexes his wings and sounds reveille to begin his daily bourne!
I'd rather be woken by him, tho', than the neighbor's yapping mutts!
'Tis certainly far more pleasant - of that there ain't no ifs, ands or buts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
No one knows the rubble I’ve seen.
Nobody knows but DEEEshus.
I stop washing dishes and turn around.
My four-year-old is belting this out with gusto.
These dishes?
She nods.
Where did you learn it?
In church.
Okay.
What have you done, for you look like a perch?
On Botox you should've done some research
I won't sugarcoat it
You look very bloated
Your face is engorged, and some will besmirch
Resembling a puffer with puckered lips
I wanna pop them with my fingertips
Dress yourself up in lace
Get rid of that fish face
Girl, you better get real and come to grips!
Your booty sticks out. You've such a huge butt
People laugh behind your back when you strut
They giggle and they wink
Some even say you stink
Like a three-day old catch of Halibut
Your teeth are threatening like a hungry shark
Who'd bite me like a mad dog with a bark
You're known as a stinker
Caught, hook, line and sinker
People point at you and call you a snark
You are as fishy as a speckled trout
So nice to people before it's found out
It's nothing but a show
Just a smoke screen you blow
A tasteless fish thrown back, without a doubt
You've earned the deserved name of big mouth bass
A loose lip fish without an ounce of class
Kicked out of many schools
Cause they didn't like fools
Shunned by all the Tropicals known as wrasse
You've been compared to the swimmer called 'carp'
A lesser species whose teeth are quite sharp
A catch that's not a prize
Most fishermen despise
No angel fish when it plays on a harp
Sometimes you resemble a red snapper
Belting out words like a winded rapper
Blah blah blah, on you jaw
Irksome as a jackdaw
You sound like the news anchor, Jake Tapper
When you swim in the pool, you're called a whale
Ya think that's due to the size of your tail?
In candy you indulge
It's the cause of your bulge
You might want to try a diet of kale
Am I hideous
So many years have drained,
slowly taking what was once mine
scattering it over endless thoughts and memories
and I wonder why, where has it all gone?
Silver finds locks once dark,
muscles speak in much louder tones
Sleep is something of youthful moments
and nightmares wrap me where once bloomed orchids
Coming down that mountain…stumbling,
gazing on the valley below, green and lush,
envying those who still smile,
holding hands and drinking of life
one happy sip at a time
from that half full glass held next to their hearts
Not a drop spilled on their dance floor,
mixing with saw dust and erratic footprint designs
A tear finds my cheek, lonely as it is
asking what did it mean, why has loved passed me by?
Nary a wave or a nod, eyes fixed elsewhere
Am I hideous……………………why did I just grin?
One more butterfly touches and I didn’t notice,
until now…perhaps
There’s that word again, perhaps…seems overused
though it hasn’t been spoken in ages
Entering that final path, winding…tiring so
but a spring in the old step, a bounce found in place of a crawl
“Sweet the fragrant air doth find me of you”
Why did I just say that, and in a voice I hadn’t heard in so long?
Seems to be singing…and it is me…me
and funny…I hear harmony
So it has come, the voices of my past belting out a few notes
into the mind of crab cake crumbles and starched socks
Yet it is not in my head, it is on the wind…a cool breeze of song
wafts along aged skin and tickles…and I laugh at the feeling
When she appears from a field of lavender, different yet perfect,
beautiful eyes, lips…I must be going insane…they said it would happen…madness
Then she smiles at me and I smile back, could this be….love…me?
Taking my hand we run…yes run…uphill…and I feel free
Reaching in my pocket I pull out the four leaf clover
I found when I was twelve and whisper…”Took you long enough”
Rebecca wrinkles her itty bitty nose and giggles
Loads of soapy bubbles almost over her head
Warm soothing water still running noisily
Holding on to her precious Little Mermaid doll
Rebecca reaches over to quiet the flow
Ah the echo of silence! How magically delightful !
Now her singing lesson can begin
As she plays with her mermaid friend
Reenacting a world of aquatic fantasy
Belting out every Little Mermaid song
One day Rebecca will be a superstar
But today she’s just another mermaid having fun
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on March 30, 2019 for contest SPECIFICITY IN POETRY sponsored by SHERI FRESONKE HARPER - RANKED 5TH
I’ve made my choice for my next life
I’m coming back fierce as a drag queen
I’ll be osé and voluptuous
flamboyantly vivacious
in stilettos and seductive gowns
wigs of lush luscious curls
belting out steamy tunes
on stage in cabarets
strutting my stuff
impersonating divas
living life large
as it is meant to be
with a passion that’s ferocious
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
When I was a kid, once a year on TV,
“The Wizard of Oz” would be shown.
It thrilled us and scared us, but how we enjoyed!
(Just as long as we weren’t alone.)
My parents were there when the scary witch came
And, years later, my husband and I
Sat and watched with our kids, singing all of the songs
We remembered from being knee-high.
Now today, here we are, watching Oz on the screen,
With our daughter and grandkids in tow,
Belting every word, reassuring in parts
That once frightened us, too, long ago.
"Grenades"
When Humpty fell off the wall
she stood over the mess
that bad egg left
like a marauding architect
she was holding two pistols
the smoking guns
of a life peripheral
stitched up surreal
where the heart
sits in the middle
like a key swinging
constant metronome
beat, click-click,
like time spent
running a risky
poetic kingdom
where music
like grenades
blew up and lifted
pretend leaves
departures
like a death wish
kamikaze pilot
escaping
from a dead plot
holding onto the strings
of words, lit up
like neon balloons
containing messages
the base note revealed
underneath the stained seats
of bad actors fates sealed
pretending
a life at Freedom
Saab living slipping
charm like butter
rubbing between the bars
like soap on the tongue
with Sister Christmas
enabling spoilt collaboration
with unsuspecting customers
the orchestrated lies stumble
dead and buried, white flags torn
lying under the rubble
cool assassins
never come undone
delivering their missives
what's mightier than the sword
belting out their
golden semicolon chords
the disengaged pause
now released
the trigger pulled,
click-click,
now shot like
bullets from a gun
the heart,
a grenade
cool assassins
seen standing
their ground
steam punk
for all they’re worth
in their stormy
cloud ridden
kingdom come
the heart,
a grenade
more lethal than
sword
more explosive than
bullets from a gun
disengaged
with the engaged
click-click
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“But since he pinned you, baby
You're a porcupine”
“Crack, baby, crack
Show me you're real”
Five days of steady rain. A hurricane approaches the city. The streets are flooding but the wildlife is thriving. Every person wears a raincoat or carries an umbrella. Indoors is cozy. Movie theaters are crowded in the early afternoon. We who live alone are more isolated; those who live together are more aggravated. The heavens are having a fine time belting it out.
A fly is swept from a windowpane in early August but men's machines are almost oblivious to the storm. Except the wires in Mr. Glyckman's Volvo are wet. People's dreams begin to take place in the water. When they awake their thoughts are floating in the puddle of night.
Raindrops slap the leaves and splash the ground. Travel is not advised, wherever you are it seems like home. Next month dirt on the shingles of the house will remind the painter of the great rain. Even the rain no longer makes an impression on the earth, only a ripple in the rain. If there are mountains or the sea they seem more like brother and sister than father and mother these days. Summer feels like winter.
Children are less visible and mothers are women who were once girls. Nightclubs are full and the listeners listen more seriously. Music continues but the rain muse has her say. Lovers are less joyous and more happy. The full moon's influence is muted by clouds, the blood between people is thicker. The Himalayas come to the Rockies and the Rockies reach for the Alps. The imagination comes to the market.
The roads leading down to the river are empty and wet and the bright painted houses along them are quiet. A dog and a cat under a porch patient and unperturbed. A love-gnarled man with a brown beard and walking stick walks in the middle of the street. If a curtain moves, a woman wonders how many days he's been out in the rain like a child. But only the water winding back to the sea, a mad naked saint at the Last Judgement, welcomes him home.
I deem it important to attend church for my spiritual maturation.
I really savor the fellowship of a loving and caring congregation.
I especially relish the potluck suppers and other social interactions,
But even in this worshipful scenario, there are bound to be distractions!
Now, I don't mind the preacher pounding his pulpit to gain attention,
Or the occasional "amen" from a dear sister for her comprehension,
But that feller across the aisle who always sings off-key and out of tune,
Sounds like a murder of cranky crows or an out of sync bassoon!
I thrill at a great rendition of "How Great Thou Art" by the choir,
And the crescendo of the organ as it grows higher and higher.
Even the woman belting out her mezzo-contralto doesn't bother me so,
But that feller across the aisle who murders "Amazing Grace" has got to go!
I can tolerate little children who holler and scream now and then,
Or the occasional raucous ringing of a cellphone now and again,
But I approach congregational singing with little or no anticipation,
When that feller across the aisle brays, "The Churches One Foundation!"
I don't mind the snoring of the guy who occupies the pew behind me,
And I can abide the pastor's profound homilies to a certain degree.
But how I dread to hear that feller's odious and tuneless strain!
(I suppose I could move to another pew to ease my Sabbath bane!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Can’t hold this love in
To do that is sin
Can’t keep it inside
There’s no place for pride
Cause all that I see
Is you here with me
Whatever it takes
I’ll win at these stakes
So, here’s what I’ll do
I’ll be all out for you
Chorus
All out for you
It’s all I can do
If you love me or not
Here’s all I’ve got
It’s all I can do
Babe…I’m all out
All out for you
I know you can hurt
Can treat me like dirt
Might feel like the dead
When you leave my bed
I’m ready to bleed
To fill every need
It’s no way to live
My all I must give
So, here’s what I’ll do
I’ll be all out for you
Chorus
All out for you
It’s all I can do
If you love me or not
Here’s all I’ve got
And it’s all I can do
Babe, I’m all out….
All out for you
Stripped till I’m bare
My heart takes the dare
Though it’s so insane
I have to be plain
I’ll hold nothing back
Even under attack
I’ll yield and I’ll plead
Until I am freed
To give you it all
Man up to the call
To be all out for you
Yea, here’s what I’ll do
Chorus
All out for you
It’s all I can do
If you love me or not
Here’s all I’ve got
And it’s all I can do
Babe, I’m all out
I’m all out for you
Babe I’m all out
Yes, I’m all out for… you
I attended a Bryan Adams concert last night which rocked my world. I simply adore him as a singer, performer, humanitarian, and animal rights activist. Yes, he is vegan! :) I will blog about my experience a little later, but these words came to me today as I was thinking about it, and I wrote it as though it were Bryan writing the lyrics. I know they are very simple...but I can just imagine his gravely voice belting out this melody. If only....if only....
Eileen Manassian
Shirley, BEEEEE You !!!
This days light, has come to a glorious end,
with it, it brought some memories of a friend.
Lady Snow, was belting out – whispering in my ears
of days winging by – memories , experiences of bygone years.
I have reached in deep – knowing – I created your tears
as your world of doubts, of insecurities, of fears
hung onto a desire for me – for my passions fires
fires that have lead me to beds and to funeral pyres
upon which I have burned and burned, yet never learned
to be compassionate, empathetic for the passions earned.
Only for the touch, the feel, a fleshy meal I yearned
for, a talking in tongues to that deliciously sweet pink
- Mother earth laying beneath a furry, forest floor – and think
of all who gave, all who needed, and realize !, to my grave, a fink.
I, sometimes wonder ?, about all those who gave much to me’
I wonder what they feel ?, – think – if at all and what they see
in what once was- that made up the moments of what would be,
now nothing more than experiences committed to memories hoard
where they are all stored - in remembering, would they be boars ?
Some will remember, some will forget, some will deeply bury.
I am left, can only wonder ?, - in the end - will they carry
fragments, flakes of my soul, my spirit, me, with them to their end.
Will they ever wonder ?, will they ever know ?, I was just a friend
or will they see me as empty to them now as I was empty to them
so long ago, a time of once shared intimacies and fun, when
we were so care free, before we moved on to things different,
and new for me and you and what we once had, was sent
into the caves of history for which there would be no rent.
I do wonder what was in your mind, what you were able to find ?,
as you thought of me, did you find that I was very seldom kind?
For all these many years – tears for what was left behind
- all of life’s pleasures, with – all, from time to time, fill my mind !
B. J. “A ” 2
February 18th 2006
Putting his whole heart into it
Belting out the chorus so loud
Needing a prompter for the lyrics
No one listening in the crowd.
Signing up to sing again
Waiting for his next go
Playing the air guitar
Putting on a show.
The groupies are in his mind
He cannot carry a note
Everyone has left the bar
He needs lozenges for his throat.
He’ll come back again on Tuesday night
To make love to the microphone
Knowing women he will woo
Yet going home alone.
He practices in the shower
He’s gonna make it big he knows
He’s failed three times in auditions
For the American Idol show.
He knows every bar that has a machine
And which nights they plug it in
A regular the bartenders know
Trying not to laugh at him.
No one has the heart to tell him
That he’s wasting his time
I guess living in your own dream
Isn’t really a crime.
So sing it would-be rock and roll boy
Pretend that you’re a star
There will always be a place for you
In the local Karaoke bar.