Best Flamenco Poems

Autumn winds duende with flair.
The leaves falling from trees aflame,
twisting and twirling across the aire,
gliding on the cool, frosty first rain.

The leaves falling from trees aflame
rouge the baile floor as a mosaic
gliding on the cool, frosty first rain
with alegrías rhythms wild and archaic

Rouge the baile floor as a mosaic
the winds swaying their sensual hips
with alegrías...

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Pink hue flamingo it must be due to all
the carotenoid pigments feasted on 
algae and crustaceans
An elongated  neck spirals 
and filters such sensations
Sharing color is Okinawa salmon sushi,
bolster lobster and shrimp scrimp
Graceful qualifiers primp poised tropical dwellers
balancing effortlessly on one outstretched leg,
A ballerina’s pirouette in fuchsia tutus’
Statuesque stillness in shallow water
Rosette feathers flair flamboyance
Passionate...

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Emotional tension fills the air...
 Lights and laughter everywhere

 A fiesta audience waits eagerly for a night of passion.

 The dance of Spain and a sensual dancer
 The Andalusian Gypsy dancer
 El baile flamenco tonight…Ole!

 The guitarist enters…masterfully
 Displaying his unique musical talent.
 His music controls the dance

 Finally, bailaoras, the great Camille, enters
 More...

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BARCELONA FLAMENCO

clicking of heels, like torrential downpour. guitar
plucking at the eardrums, chest wall erupting.

like a hurricane of crisp crimson leaves of Autumn ~
a raked pile, blowing around in tumultuous sweep,

her skirt, spread out in the expanse of rubious dawn,
passion’s glorious splendor, a prolific hunger.

his eyes dance as frenetic flames, hypnotized
by Spain’s red cape.  His...

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She stands there in the center of the room
not moving! She is focused on the strum
of the guitar. we see pure passion bloom
before our eyes as feelings coming from
the gypsy's song are transferred to her feet,
for she interprets years of suffering
by stamping them into the floor! The heat
of her emotions makes this woman bring
her palms...

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The Flamenco Dancer and The Bull

The acoustics of your snuffle
 is an absolution 
of a descending staccato 
in an E chord.
Behold, my lancing third, 
an urgency to trick you 
with my jalapeño-colored capote,
to mask the stains of your blood 
as it oozes,  while I thrust 
these Romani banderillas 
in your neck.
Tease me with impulsive...

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Sevilla, the evening pins flowers on your hair
A pirouette of tasselled gown rustles by
Igniting a lusty swirl along theater’s wing,
Over spotlights on red liquefied hips
That kiss of flamenco gyres into a dance ;
Relishing the wine which drips as you lift
And tap those feet through moonshine’s gloam:
O, such swaggers devour my senses
While Latin music sets the...

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A juerga with flamenco guitars, 
With fires blooming like red flowers, 
Corpses dancing in moonlight
The dance of wounded souls, 
Vibrant red dresses 
White shirts like birds, 
Falling shawls, 
Dancers, 
Sky, 

Claps, 
Cubic
Movements of
Color, music's
Seeds, hands being wings 
In shadows on the wall, 
From soul detaching passion's
Lights, motion vibrating the string, 
Resonance for a new dimension....

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A Polite Warning. The Following poem is somewhat steamy. Not explicit, but explicit in
inference. If this sort of thing offends you, then please be considerate and don’t read
it. Thank you. 

Naked Flamenco

( A sultry summer night spent together
With ardour between us growing
She whispered, “Let me dance for you”
I agreed, little knowing………………. )

Binding spells of mysterious...

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The Flame of the Flamenco

Ruby was the flame of the Flamenco,
a tavern on the docks of Costa del Sol.
Men were entranced by her fiery dancing
as she gave off flashes of red and gold.

Ruby called one man to dance with her.
Her skirt ruffled and swished across the floor.
The man was caught up in her rhapsody
as her...

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the owl-eyed cat
sleeps quietly
near my 
Spanish blue guitar
while one eye 
peeled open
to watch the
gray mouse afar
that dance across
the six tender
nylon strings that
clap the castanet 
in both hands
as she performs
that old Spanish 
flamenco dance...

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The Flamenco dancer swirled and twirled past me 
her red voluminous red skirt floating
such intensity in her face
I was enthralled with her strength
and proud posture . . . 
her feet stomped in rhythm
to a strumming guitar and tambourines
her hands curved over her head
fingers snapping and hands clapping
O, she was a gypsy proud
I could feel her...

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In swirling crimson maelstrom
She spun her magic spell
With guitars stringent chords 
Highlighting tale
The tempest of her torment
Displayed upon the stage
Her moves reflecting flashes 
Of her rage

The black stiletto rhythms
Thundered loud upon the stage
Echoed by her partner of the dance
Pulse ardour through the audience
And enrapture all who watched 
Dismissing awestruck eyes
With haughty glance

With awesome execution
She whirled...

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It was not a night for work
the moon was at the full
high over the sea
erotic and disturbing
l could hear the gypsy singer in the tavern below
self assured as usual she had a slightly distant air about her !...

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Written by Gail DeBole
January 20, 2020

A flock of Flamingos so pink
Had feathers that made people blink.
They group-danced with heads high
In a Flamenco style.
Ate shrimp, algae, and water to drink.

Author's Note: The type of food affects the color of the feathers....

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