Best Break Dance Poems
Life is a dance we were all born to do.
The styles to choose from are more than a few!
Some choose simple two-step; some move with flair.
Some slow dance; some break dance, devil-may-care!
Some free style, while others just dance on cue.
Some tango with zest; some shuffle soft-shoe.
Others glide easily, waltzing on through.
Some change their partners; some stay one pair.
Life is a dance.
You start with the styles in your own milieu,
then grow as you add on new moves you view.
You’ll stumble, but sometimes dance on sweet air!
Just keep the beat; try new steps if you dare,
for where you end up is all up to you. . .
Life is a dance!
(A Vondelet Sonnet Variation)
When clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain,
as angels whisper crimson, blue and green
to bring a Spring of promise, wild with gain,
while sister states hold down a strong desire
for smell of raindrop pelts on dry terrain;
our windshield wipers sing a break-dance song
cocooned within a vacuum too arcane
when clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain.
Yet now we join our neighbors’ glum refrain
to pray for moisture measured to prolong;
our plants show wilted heads bent down in pain
while air, intense with heat, forecasts a fire.
As angels whisper crimson, blue and green,
the earth greens up as winter hides again,
when clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain.
it was in the block
we jump and hop
street was wet
water contest
we all jump hand prance
in this
SUMMER BREAK DANCE
Yo Yo New York City make me crazy and i am cool man and i am rap and people think i am cool rap walk on street and i am deaf and i can show people of my break dance like rap in NYC is so crazy these people i like NYC that i have a new friend there it make me smile and girl think i am cute yo yo i am deaf rap in NYC people watch me i van dance like rap they can heard the beats bass of rap music so loud and they think i am cool man and people cheer on me yo yo and i said yo yo what up pimp my wild and i want to be famous rap star and deaf DJ in NYC and i can teach people how to be rap in NYC and dance on stage people can follow my dance style and i can collect money to donated to homeless people in street and i give them a coin or cash to them and they think i am cool and friendly and i have a riches family like Jewish people have and i am not poor rap and i not broken the money down on street yo yo i love to play crazy basketball player like i shooter 3 pointer yo yo i am talent and half court shoot the basket up and blown it down buzz and those black and white people think i am stronger and crazy people in NYC too
There’s a soft glimmer of day on the horizon
As a vanquished sun is swept away by dusk’s dark flow
With a slender slip of a cloud stretched North to the South
That floats on the sweetness, the texture of marmalade glow.
Dark clouds above me are still catching last light
And the air is still fresh from a passing shower.
Overhead there are magnificent canyons of sky,
Clouds eroded by meandering rivers of air,
Untouched stars shining through,
And flashes of lightning that break dance further South
Reminding less attentive humans feelings are electric too,
Random flashes, like a child remembering how to cry
Without understanding when it is effective.
And the crickets are singing their harsh waves of sound
With combined voice that could wake up the dead
Or float lovers to their dreams with strange musicality.
What a chorus! It’s like they’re all suitors of one woman
Hanging out in the darkness under her window
Their legs resonating in an orgy of praise.
Is there anything alive that does not ooze sensuality?
I’m driving myself to a late dinner in Pierre
And there’ll be no one waiting to greet me,
But loneliness is not the same as being lonely
I even stop as I’m driving to write down these words
For when my muse speaks I almost always listen
For the music of the night is so fragile,
Though her words are my constant companions.
Like raindrops they cool me with their touch, to my senses glisten,
The thoughts she brings are flowers that follow mountain streams
And her rhymes, even when it’s cloudy, are stars in my night.
Arriving back in Blunt, the cricket song, seems somehow softer,
Though hardly less insistent, cries “Don’t you know we love you?”
I insert some extra lines and thoughts into what has come before,
Into an already flowing work, dollops of color added madly,
Just more cricket noise, hoping to touch your heart.
I wish that I had stopped once more beside the road as I returned.
“That was such a beautiful thought! What was it?” I wonder sadly!
Apparently the female that male crickets seek has not chosen yet.
But with this poem my day is done.
Brian Johnston
September 7, 2015
When you say I am your dream-boy
I think I could break-dance with joy
When you stare at me with those eyes
Hopes come in my mind like sunrise
When you kiss me like a peacock
I just forget the clock’s tick-tock
When you hold me tight in your arms
Old days are eaten by bookworms
When you show me baby sweet dream
With joy my heart fills to the brim
they tump jump
and pump
put you in a trance
with that
BREAK DANCE
Like an eagle out of Egypt...flying faster than the wind
Leaving many shackles, chains and cages
Leaving sorrow and sickness and a multitude of sins
How, where or when? He really doesn't know...and really doesn't care
He only wants his freedom
Destiny awaits...he takes that dare
Super charged and scared soon he's chased by 600 chariots
Those vultures full of vengeance they want him back where he belongs
They sing their songs...he does not listen
He's only heeding Heavens voice
With force and fury out of Perdition he flaps his wings toward Paradise
Now his body is getting tired so he harnesses his hate
His fears they give him fuel as his feathers turn to flames
Soon he's a sole survivor...family and friends to him are dead
They still bow before the men with whips...to their wickedest of whims
He can feel their scars and stains still salvation keeps him safe
A double dose can't devastate
A triple threat can't cause him terror
Many arrows shot right to his soul...still his father takes him further
Finally he turns around and sees a special sight
Something so supernatural a mortals mind could not describe
The vultures they all vanish...swallowed in a sea of red
Still he flaps his wings much harder so he won't break dance with the dead
Far from harm he hears a voice so warm and full of love
He sees a nest with no thorns and he makes that nest his home
That eagle out of Egypt is told one final thing...
"Never use your freedom in a foul way or you'll soon become a slave"
Music is more than a passion I enjoy,
It is food to my very soul!
From the time I was a little boy,
It helped me maintain self-control.
Music kickstarts several passions inside me.
I love to sing and dance to a groovy melody.
R & B makes me wanna indulge in a steamy romance.
Hip-hop makes me wanna grab my girl and dance!
I can feel the beat, the bass booming from the speakers.
Like an athelete, I can show you some moves in these sneakers!
I can salsa, two-step or even break dance!
Music makes me smile and puts me in a trance.
My music must be played loud at all times.
The sounds put me in the mood to write some rhymes!
Some lyrical content inspires my writing hand.
Music was heaven sent almost like a direct command!
I wonder without music where I'd be.
I enjoy ballads and even rock and roll.
But as long as I got a melody,
Then it's food to my soul....
Wrote for Linda-Marie's contest "Passion Pit"
It’s very difficult to start to write
as soon as inspiration come
that have done it
leading legions of others duties,
wants, desires, tricks and trifles
have occupied you around at all.
Suddenly you mad for cup of cave
or filling bit a hunger,
or preferred exercise, making yoga
or just want to scratch your left hear
with right forefoot.
Often you cannot sit at table
preferring rode on it
or break dance
on your head,
or crawling under table
and trying to write in such extraordinarily position.
You have to do much
other oddly things
before you starting work
and even after it.
As Richie Blakemore played hardly with guitars
In right position and backward,
turn it fast around body
plying so virtuously
eventually broke instrument on the stage,
as Gogol smashed the table
when he finished to write a page
as a Balzac
flooded room
chained himself to table
and put his foot to cold water.
before a start to write,
as Michelangelo
ready to stone everybody
coming to him at work
without his pleasure,
when he pained the marble celling of Sicts Chappelle,
As a God merciful
who created this astonishing Universe
with billions galactics
stretching billion light years to far
with Black Holes and Black matters
and abreast of times and efforts spent,
from larvae’s to dinosaurs
and mammals and human-like apes,
from Neanderthals to Homo-sapiens
before eventually emerging you and me
in this blue planet
as a top creatures and miracle of nature.
Yes it’s very difficult process
that so strong possessed
before you start to work
and able to do
something really valuable.
I love to rap and tap most times ,
My wrist ,I can twist with real ease ,
Even though I’m not in my prime ,
My femurs and knees slide like grease ,
Hip for hip-pop dance and axis
for break dance which pivots the neck,
Enabling girdles to assist,
Failure can lead to serious wreck ,
But blues is safe with little pulls ,
Making you close to your dear one,
Backache is close where rock song rules,
Ballroom or ballet is full of fun ,
Wasteless waist is more used than tarsals ,
And restless chest more than carpals .
Parts of body used are :Wrist ,femurs ,Hip ,neck ,waist ,knees , etc.
DATE:9-10-2016
Music is more than a passion I enjoy,
It is food to my very soul!
From the time I was a little boy on momma's knee,
It helped me maintain self-control and calmed my nerves.
Music kickstarts several passions inside me.
I love to sing and dance to a groovy melody moving.
R & B makes me wanna indulge in a steamy romance.
Hip-hop makes me wanna grab my girl and dance and kiss!
I can feel the beat, the bass booming from the speakers.
Like an athlete, I can show you some moves you wouldn't believe!
I can salsa, two-step or even break dance!
Music makes me smile and takes me over the rainbow.
My music must be played loud at all times.
The sounds put me in the mood to write some poetry!
Some lyrical content inspires my writing hand.
Music was heaven sent almost like a direct intervention!
I wonder without music where I'd be.
I enjoy ballads and even rock and roll.
But as long as I got a song,
Then it's food to live by....
(Continued from part one.)
Afire not his thoughts, the Devil sees,
He soars and roars, in his physical might.
His bears’ hug, his warmth, could melt you;
Into joys and tears, in willing submission.
Treat him not, to your portions of love.
He grows cold, is lost in erotic rage.
Wiggle not mermaid, in bouts of passion,
The dough you kneed, may turn love to hate.
Dare not the wile witches’ craft;
Lest he banish you to the earth’s folds,
To burn in hate, love and desire,
Forever and ever, in eternal penance.
Spurn not his love for the unknown,
With frivolous, eyewash camouflage.
He watches behind the scenes,
Your tremors in the curves and the lips;
You innocent, blooming seductress,
Holding the Mega-staff, letting reptiles sing:
You bore the man, the crowned lord of vice.
Rip him, Independence, to his natural doom.
Haven’t you learnt, you Hollywood menace?
Ever seen Javed Jaffery the Tellywood, Bollywood
Lollywood and Mollywood a few dozen like you?
Tent walk dove-eyed, bumps to the moon.
Kanjiwaram, the Casanova Frenchie,
Break dance in airs to the Eiffel Tower.
Red herring you to the Spanish bulls.
Joy ride Rolls on BMW’s track.
Con the Germans and the Japs.
You, wonder android, generations ahead.
(Forget the Merc-E, TELCO ties,
Or their Sumo-ing the Japanese pride.)
Take care you fool, Govinda could snare,
Rap tap the Seghal to his toe’s.
Golden Eye the double O’s latest dream.
Kung-fu Steven’s at his own game.
Anti-gravity NASA, with mental fields.
Stealth fly you out, from the Pentagon.
Biotech you back into American laps,
Genetically engineered, Gene cultured, wreck.
Brain-virus Microsoft, in config-trees,
Space walk you to the final frontiers in enterprise.
Dance away the foxes of your clan.
Ultra culture, the real London breed.
In knacks of, how to wink and blink.
Lifting eyebrows? Take care you oaf,
Run you goat! and don’t turn your head.
He is the cool cat, really looking his English best.
Flee, before the gambler, he is still there,
Smirnoff you to the Hustler`s care.
Toss you around, under Playboy’s thumb.
Floor you with his catwalk fun.
Cradle you, to the American roost;
Chickening out, not now KFC hen.
He is “She selling sea shells on the sea shore.”
In wizard glee, those Colgate teeth his real hope.
(To be continues in part three.)
You can break a promise, break a toy,
Break a rack in pool;
Break a tennis player’s serve
And even break a rule.
Break a horse to saddle up;
Take a break for lunch.
Break a glass (at Jewish weddings);
Listen to it crunch.
Break a habit, break a heart,
Break your back by lifting;
Break your neck and break your fast
And break a line by shifting.
Break up laughing, break-out stars,
Break out with some zits;
Break a losing streak and break
Your taffy bar to bits.
Break dance, break-up, break a bone;
Break a record – wow!
Break your train of thought, just like
I’m going to do – now!
I praise you my love
because of your sweetness
which is like honey
and sugar from Kenya,
and your kindness
that makes people to smile
like Barack Obama.
I believe you settled my heart
because am part of your life,
and without you i feel very bored
like someone who misses M J,
and his break dance.
Oh! i know there in the west
you made life simple,
and here in Africa you sale like a cake
because of your great job
to make life sweet.
hence you deserve to be the messiah
for my life.