Best Quickstep Poems
dance party of summer
blue waves rock and roll
seashore tides shimmy and shake ~
sunlight tap dances
white clouds pirouette
delphiniums deep plies ~
ebb tides grand jettes
meadows slowly waltz
forests polka with raindrops ~
breezes minuet
willow trees tango
sunflowers skip jump and jive ~
moon does the hustle
butterflies slow dance
ladybugs groove in two-step ~
surfside twists and shouts
shooting stars moon walk
tide pools salsa dancing ~
birch trees swing and sway
dandelions stroll
fields of daisies jitterbug ~
long days zydeco
swift rivers rumba
rapids mambo in quickstep ~
starshine at the hop
Categories:
quickstep, celebration, dance, summer,
Form:
Haiku
Myrtle the Turtle
There once was a turtle named Myrtle.
She could speed through a maze and climb a hurdle.
While she was small, she was a friend to all.
And remained safe from a kitchen overhaul.
Years passed as she raced for many children.
Through mazes designed in childlike fashion.
Lined up building blocks, her corridor defined.
Faster than all the others, her speediness shined.
She heard cheering children as she plodded fast.
Quicker than lightening our childhood flew past.
Playing on the floor so much laughter roaring.
A turtle named Myrtle beget years of adoring.
But then the day came when she was big and fat.
Myrtle somehow disappeared; imagine that!
Fear and distraught brought a terrible rouse.
Frantically we searched running house to house.
Never discovered though we searched with quickstep.
Three children sat crying on their front porch step.
We thought she had been taken to become turtle soup!
It was a devastating day for the turtle-loving group.
Surprisingly, later, in a nearby pond
Where a neighborhood boy with our playmate did abscond.
We saw Myrtle, our turtle, and her baby turtles, too.
She had escaped turtle soup and made freedom's debut.
© August 3, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Categories:
quickstep, childhood, nostalgiachildren, day,
Form:
Couplet
It’s nice to be back to where I belong. Oh, how I missed the quickstep of poetry!
Categories:
quickstep, life, nostalgia
Form:
Lyric
Woke up this morning
With news headlines spawning
I do not know if it's winter yet
Because of old age I often forget
Got to realise how weird it is
When I can brush my teeth
And scratch my nose
But try as I might
I just can't touch my toes
Wasn't too bothered when
Often times back ache set in
And even when Viagra
Didn't give me the desired vim
But this is not a funny joke
The morning when I woke
And begin to realize
That I could twist my hip
Do a jig
But try as I might ,
I just can't tough my toes.
Pinocchio was a lier
Kristine Keeler was a hooker
And Lord Lampton got exposed
But trouble comes in different parcels
But where mine is heading
God only knows
When my wallet drop on the floor
Bend down to pick it up
Like brass monkey in winter
The entire lumber vertebrae, froze
Often times mi get a pain in the neck
When it comes, I can deal with it
Sometimes mi love to dance
Do a foxtrot and even a quickstep
But that is no compensation
When mi toe nail look like talon
And size ten no longer fit mi
But try as I might to cover them
With knitted socks, mi get since when
Its a doomed attempt
Flexibility is now a distant memory
And back ache now my closest friend
Mi know young people
Will laugh at old people's talk
But it only seems like yesterday
When I too was laughing
But today , I am walking the walk.
The same thing whey a reach mi
Is the same thing a happen to mi friend
But if you think it can't reach you
You better think again
Mi used to be a little sprite
Do head spins and bouncing somersaults
Do some boxing, and throw down a fight
But time travels faster than lightening
And my black hair overdosed on whitening
So before you reach my milestone
Heed my warning, get enlighten
That one day, not so far away
Things are going to be past memories
Because try as you might
You may bend your knees ,
Scratch your nose
Try as you might
You just can't touch your toes.
Categories:
quickstep, age, allusion, body, celebration,
Form:
Free verse
Where we run
Where we slide with ease
Where we push forward rapidly
Where we dare to be something we most possibly could not
Where we hope in view of real failure
Where we dance
Where we scream
Where we gaze into the heavens
Where we quickstep to the side
Where we eat and drink with thankfulness
Where we release our energy unto the world
Bright, sparkling, shining, wondrous
Where we love
Where we spin and swirl into the tornado that is endless passion
Where we swim in warm flesh
Where we can sink into one another
Where we fly
Where we soar
Where we are strong and sturdy
Where we are Spartan
Where we feel Gods energy slam into us
Where we burst forth with laughter at the gift
Where we breathe
Ever so slowly
Ever so gently
Where we hold a hand
Where we wipe a tear
Where we wrap arms around another
And pull sorrow away
Where we are noble
Where we are majestic
Where we are the purest of creatures created
Where I remember
Where I reclaim
Where I am reminded of truth
Where I am witness to giving
Where I sway with the trees
Where I attack
Where I retreat
Where I forgive
Where I let go
Where I close my eyes
Where I pause
Where I stop
Categories:
quickstep, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
1861
Dust rises from the rutted road. Cannon laden caissons rumble slowly forward. A red sun competing with the campfires glow. Weary troops break camp, joining the ranks of
colleagues on the move. An enemy, unseen, lays before them, waiting to exact a deadly blow.
Bellowed orders cut through the hushed encampment, bugles sound, urgency pervades. Battle lines are drawn, men marching, resolve and fear etched upon their hearts.
Artillery from behind sing the opening anthem. Flashes on the horizon acknowledging their song. In quickstep they press toward the waiting army, searching til they face the long gray line.
A fusillade rips through the forward soldiers, leaving death and carnage in its wake. A
row of men drop in lines of destruction, their cries of pain soon muted by the battles call.
Panicked faces seek cover as their Captains, yell and threaten, urging them on.
Deadly canister screams overhead, delivering their fingers of death, Fragments of life left littering the field. “Close ranks” the Captain cries. “Rally round the colors.” In the
face of death the army presses onward, drummer boys beating cadence on their drums.
Smoke and bodies soon consume the landscape, fragments of lives lost, attesting to the
horrors of the day. On and on the contest rages. Giving, taking, winning, losing, dying.
Until welcome darkness cloaks the field of battle, forcing war to take a short respite
In darkened fields, litter bearers rummage through a broken army. Seeking those whose ravaged bodies won’t surrender, selecting those who might still have a chance.
Hot tears run down the face of hardened soldiers, gripped by a mix of anger, fear and
sorrow. Mourning for the sons and brothers taken. Respecting those that they must leave behind.
Unknown to them this is but a beginning. A scene to be replayed so many times. Our
nation would become a blood soaked homeland. Each side sure that they were on His side.
Time would leave its scars upon our nation. Destroying in an effort to unite. A terrible
price would be exacted. With the lives of many men it would be paid
The War Between The States officially ended April 9, 1865. The conflict cost 624000 lives.
Categories:
quickstep, historydeath, men, war, death,
Form:
Narrative
Sugar sand deserts
Birds flocking to mirages
Black holes' blind tango
Categories:
quickstep, future, hope, longing,
Form:
Haiku
I never danced not a stride
hard as I tried
the rhythm and the songs
pushed two left feet along
ever turning to the right
but I watched you in the midnight light.
A spin, a twirl
along the wood dance floor
while others watched
I eyed the clock
your shoes never touching down
and my efforts more like a clown.
The music played a quickstep, waltz, and foxtrot
but the rhythm escapes me the dancer forever not
so I sit, a wallflower, waiting sad face
observing the melodic rhythm flow to your taste
but when the night is over and done
it's me and you alone the lover won.
Categories:
quickstep, dance,
Form:
Rengay
No
no name
frozen rose
lost cause
and so simpleminded that it is
mindless
Quickstep my dear
that or Slow fox
no labdance
(my ***** is only for pissing)
I own 6 nights and 8 days
they are only mine
(and yours
and yours
and yours
and yours)
need more
but the bank is closed
and my cash is spent
on cigarettes, beer and uncomfortable shoes
made in China
by a heartless little girl
who humped the neighbour’s son
and then just ignored him
for no reason at all
he killed him self
(who wouldn’t?)
Empty stone
frozen rose
lost cause
roadless journey
bodyless traveller
no need to hitchhike
you will get picked up
Heartless little girl
no name
no face
Winter here I come (and where the f.... is my Igloo?)
Broken bones
happy smile
today
green meadow and tired back
will meet
these trees never give up
(but refuses to tell me how they manage).
Lars Eriksen 2005
Categories:
quickstep, angst, confusion, death, hope,
Form:
Though quickstep I,
O'er the miry field.
Where thousands alike,
Have trod before.
There's one who discerns,
The tracks I yield.
And for each soul,
Those tracks that remain in store.
On 9-11 past, tracks ceased,
As many succumbed to eternal sleep.
Carnage, came as brimstone,
From early morning's falling sky.
Through wetted eye,
Man weighs the deep.
Incapable of comprehending,
The reason why?
Categories:
quickstep, inspirational,
Form:
Ten swift turns of the calendar's pages bring me to November,
when autumn breezes sweep clinging leaves from their trees.
They lie in heaps on the ground, carpets of crimson and gold.
Misty rain falls from cloudy skies as squirrels quickstep to collect
their winter meals, never minding if their furry coats get wet.
High above the bared branches of a maple stand, swallows fly.
With wings aflutter they swoop, headed for a warmer clime.
November's sun shines more softly now, casting an amber glow
over fields ripe for harvest before the chill of season's first frost.
Apples are ripe for picking. I'll be baking pies, brewing cider,
and soon I'll be finding my way through a corn maize at the fair.
November offers herself as a picturesque palette to artists.
Sonnets are written about the dance of leaves, waltzing in the air.
With sable brush, painters capture the beauty of her reflections.
Lyrical tunes are joyfully sung in autumn's season of giving thanks.
On quiet nights, I smile at the stars and in whispered breath I pray,
"I'm grateful for November nights you bestow on Earth, Father."
It's a colorful month when taking walks exposes Nature's beauty,
and subtle winds whistle swirling songs as they rush through trees.
The scent of sage is laced with cinnamon on tables laden with feasts.
Chrysanthemums bloom in colorful array and pines drop their cones.
I'm enchanted with November's gifts, hoping this one will be gentle.
We are blessed with a month that offers respite from summer heat,
and serves as a calm transition before winter's harsh hands arrive.
November 6, 2022 ~ November Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Gina McIntosh
Categories:
quickstep, november,
Form:
Free verse
I can make you dance
hum to songs sang soft or loud beneath the setting sun,
tap and clap to the quickstep jumps and turns and runs;
you could spin and twirl and glide along the weathered floor
feet tapping and clicking begging to do a little bit more
and as the music changes from waltz to tango
or to ballroom extravaganza sambos and salsa fandango,
even disco raptured jive or the east coast swing
you would giggle and chortle at the foolishness of life's lost spring;
but as the years slip by, quick twisted turns rocking away
you would churn and align the dancing squares at play
and then we'd rest these old brittle bones
making our way together along the journey home
or you could watch
and I could do it,
I could dance
and forever keep you laughing with every stance.
Categories:
quickstep, age, dance,
Form:
Rhyme
While careening with Carene,
a boogie-woogie with Wanita, wow!
Then, a whirl with Pearl,
a jiggy jig with Jacqueline.
At intervals rhumba with a Rosalie.
An experimental ballet
with Bonnie, Bob, and Blaire.
Thanks, Charlie, for the Cha-cha-cha!
A quick shimmy with Shailene,
disco with a duchess
prancing with a prince,
and quickstep with a queen.
A charleston with Cherise
before long, samba with Sabrina,
a quick jive with Jennifer,
followed by a tango with Tasneem.
Pole dancing with Priscilla,
Poppy, Penny, and Pandora.
Kuchipudi with Kahini
and kizomba with Kabibe.
Conga with a coven
flamenco with old flame,
what will be my last dance?
Danzón with the Devil, I expect.
The Last Dance Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
Date wrote: 13-July-2021
Categories:
quickstep, dance, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
I've almost forgotten it.
It got too big -
holes appeared,
entire towns fell through them.
The Forbidden City
is a convoluted red and gold ribbon
my mind cannot now untangle.
Images float off the ink
of curling maps.
Snapshots flutter
like flags in a desert sky.
I recall in parts and pieces:
middle-aged couple’s street dancing,
no revolutionary strutting,
just Quickstep, Foxtrot,
and Bossa Nova.
The young watching,
taking notes, as if
studying for an exam.
A small one-armed boy,
riding a peddle bike
weaving through traffic,
four black cormorants strapped to his back,
necks craning out of their wicker cage
like sight-seeing dogs.
A quick look at Mongolia
through a hole in the Wall.
China got loose,
it escaped the hotels,
the tour buses, the itinerary.
It went down a crowded alley,
draped with roast ducks
and paper lanterns.
If I were to follow it,
it might lead me
to a restaurant in London,
San Francisco, or Toronto,
or like today
come together again
in the face of a girl
who sells me a phone
at Radio Shack.
Categories:
quickstep, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
We danced quickstep before the storm
my pups eager -- eyes wide
we raced in the rustling grasses
the early winds whispering beware to the trees
then the rushing air and the sky drumming began
the crows watched cawing hidden in the pines
the birds chirped and swore as the wind began to roar
the trees swayed and beat against each other’s limbs,
near the thundering waves of the east cliff drive
the ocean whipped its greenish blue hue into white foam
there is thumping on the roof now
as the ice blue sky becomes cobalt electric air
the birds grow quiet hiding in green sanctums
there is moaning, and a fearful snapping of the boughs
oh the howling winds
the dogs and I now silent in the house
in awe hiding in the most distant space
Categories:
quickstep, earth, nature,
Form:
Free verse