Best Salsa Poems
Dipped to the beat of the music
She brings flavor and spice to the floor
She glitters and drips with excitement
She shines with the glow of amor
Her hips match the beat of the rhythm
Her feet keep the count of the band
Everyone stands back and watches
At the moves between her and her man
She smiles with every twirl
She WOWS with the shake of her hips
She winks as she throws back her head
She blows a kiss from her lips
She's ultimate sexy and sultry
The epitomy of dancing devine
Every man watches and wishes
DAMN!! I wish she was mine.
Rockman :-)
Categories:
salsa, fantasy
Form:
Rhyme
Life could be better, but easily worse.
Sometimes I feel blessed; other times cursed.
As I get older, I look back and see—
Life’s mostly better when you are with me
Together we’re like…
Chips and salsa, with some cilantro inside (Kinda spicy).
Yeah, like chips and salsa, with guacamole one the side (Kinda feisty).
We go together, obviously. I hope, forever, that you’ll stay with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, jalapenos on the side.
Sometimes we argue, but don’t really fight.
I know you love me, so it’s all right.
You know I love you, so it’s plain to see
Life’s clearly better when you are with me
Together we’re like…
Chips and salsa, with some cilantro inside (Kinda spicy).
Yeah, like chips and salsa, with guacamole one the side (Kinda feisty).
We go together, obviously. I hope, forever, that you’ll stay with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, jalapenos on the side.
I’m movin’ forward, but keep lookin’ back.
Anything missing? Anything lack.
With hindsight vision, I look back and see--
Life’s always better when you are with me.
Together we’re like…
Chips and salsa, with some cilantro inside (Kinda spicy).
Yeah, like chips and salsa, with guacamole one the side (Kinda feisty).
We go together, obviously. I hope, forever, that you’ll stay with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, jalapenos on the side.
Categories:
salsa, food, life, marriage, perspective,
Form:
Lyric
Chips and Salsa (22 Feb 2019)
Life could be better, but easily worse.
Sometimes I feel blessed, other times cursed.
As I get older, I look back and see—
Life’s mostly better, when you are with me.
Sometimes we argue, but don’t really fight.
I know you love me, so it’s all right.
You know I love you, so it’s plain to see--
Life’s clearly better when you are with me.
If you should leave me, don’t know what I’d do.
My life’s completely invested in you.
I’ve gotta keep you, wherever I go
Life’s surely better together, you know.
I’m moving forward, but keep looking back.
Anything missing? Anything lack?
With hindsight vision, I look back and see,
Life’s been always better when you were with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, with some cilantro inside (kinda feisty).
We’re like chips and salsa – with jalapenos inside (kinda spicy).
We go together, obviously; I hope, forever, that you’ll stay with me.
We’re like chips and salsa, with guacamole one the side (really tasty).
Categories:
salsa, food, friendship love, fun,
Form:
Lyric
Dipping them fingers
Licking those joys
No toys needed tonight
Even disco lights appear
From nowhere
To here
Spicy red
Categories:
salsa, fun, humor,
Form:
Free verse
How about salsa
Dip for blue tortilla chip
I make Great Salsa
Categories:
salsa, food
Form:
Haiku
A subway musician with salsa-like beat
In the sea of commuters, all surging,
Made some do a double-take at such a treat,
While out of the crowd was emerging…
A couple who dropped both their bags and their coats
To grasp shoulders and waists to start dancing.
They swiveled their hips as if sowing their oats
In a ballroom, their minds on romancing.
We stood on the platform, admired their moves
And thought, what a fabulous city,
Where people are able to practice their grooves
And where beauty eclipses the gritty.
Categories:
salsa, dance, new york,
Form:
Rhyme
Salsa for Baroque
To every song, Time dances
Never seeming to stop.
22 January 2022
Categories:
salsa, dance, song, time, voice,
Form:
Haiku
My “Honey” Makes
“Sweet” Salsa.
My “Honey” has a green thumb
Her lovely garden, how it grows.
It seems she gets a good return
From every “penny” that she sows.
Each summer about this time
Her tomatoes start to blush
As they start to “pile up”
She’s in her kitchen, in a rush.
She got this wonderful recipe
From a preacher’s wife we know
Of course she’s “tweaked it”some
That’s how “family” recipes grow.
She’s got her “system” down
To produce this wonderful stuff.
To have a season pass me by
Would make my life real tuff.
She picks and peels tomatoes
Plumb & red, now sliced & diced
She grabs a lovely onion with
Some peppers, nicely spiced.
That’s as fine a recipe detail
As I’m allowed to share.
I keep her secret for myself
Cause she just wouldn’t care.
I want to feel this salsa
Is “special” made and just for me.
Cause it’s the very greatest
Anyone’s salsa could ever be.
So now I’ve shared my story
It’s made me long to dip a few
And if you lived a little closer
I’d share a fresh scoop with you.
Written by oldbuck Aug 8, 2015
After his “Honey” had just finished
making a fresh batch of her salsa.
Categories:
salsa, appreciation, food, fun, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Tomatoes fried whole till dark
Peppers friend with them
With cilantro and onion
Now blend this great mix
Add a little salt
My mouth now
Craves
Written by Wayland Bunch 2/1/2013
Ok I like experimenting but this form is a little too forced. I have syllable count and content already decided. It was trying experiment anyway and a learning experience.
Categories:
salsa, food,
Form:
Epulaeryu
Tantalizing touch,
he manoeuvres her slender hips:
A hot salsa dance
Categories:
salsa, dance,
Form:
Haiku
The midday dazzle lays off by the maiden daytime
A solstice ray parades over my eventide jollity
The solitary hour bosomed by the bambini’s elfish prime
An ecstatic hour greeted my heartfelt puerility
The infrasonic twittery of birds melded by the sundown cosmic time
A gentle breeze solemnly pass by my stargaze eternity.
The daylight soulfully sonneted by the sunset bliss
An allayed euphony coupled my awaited sapidity
The blessed souls savored by the moonlit soul kiss
A wishful rhyme pulsed my heart with chastity
The shadow of fantasm abided by the solely muss
A blended mind’s eye captured my evening salsa verity.
------------------------------x-------------------------------
Categories:
salsa, art, happiness, nature, passion
Form:
Lyric
Bob, the cat, lives in the room number 13 of the sixth avenue.
He likes fish, rollercoaster, ice cream cones and Sunday papers.
He's an artist. He's a painter. When people ask him about his latest work, he answers:
"I'm painting the meaning of life. I'm coloring it black, but my inner self keeps telling me it's green."
He has gothic way of seeing materials and articles.
He wishes everyone to speak in fragments of literary lyrics, and then he would spend all his days tangling these fragments making an abstract form out of a puzzle.
He goes for a walk before breakfast; walking on two legs, wearing a leather jacket, and whistling after big ass women are his forte.
He passes Mr. Pumpkin floral shop, turns into the eighth avenue, and enters his favorite café called "Your Favorite Café".
He sits on the second chair at the second table, and orders a coffee:
"Black, dark and bitter like a cat's soul", he says to the waiter.
He sits there all morning, sipping his black coffee, dreaming about how it would be if his past, present and future selves exist together, thinking in sync, and communicating through a common medium of artistic sense, saying words in the silence notes of Van Gogh.
He dances all the way home. If anyone cares to ask, he says:
"I'm drunk in Coffea Arabica, a perfect weed to make you tantalize with Arabian dreams and gives your nerves a breakdown."
Dancing along the pavements, he counts the roses in beats.
One, two, three, four… two, two, three, four… three, two, three, four, and so on.
The number of roses is directly proportional to the number of steps he's gonna salsa in the bathroom.
He sits on the toilet bowl, and deciphers the problems with human rights.
He stands on one leg on the bathroom floor, with arms spread like hugging the air, mouth wide opens.
He squeaks like a mouse and tries to hop like a rabbit.
He falls hard, crashing the cold bathroom tiles.
He bleeds red like the color red.
He says "Perfect".
He runs into the bedroom. There stands his actual latest work, the heart of a vampire, portraying himself with a deadly cat fangs and a wicked mustache.
He splashes his blood all over the painting, and shouts "eureka".
He starts to hum Yankee Doodle through his nose.
He falls asleep, and dreams about dinner.
"Scramble eggs with tomatoes".
Categories:
salsa, cat, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
salad poetry & salsa-dance
…thus riding on a memory-bicycle those people who used to go to pick up dry straws grasses
twigs from the daily-payment of the squirrels are neither the husband of any wood nor the
wife of any wood-apple...at the best ...they may be one page full of must-dos regarding keep-
fit practice of one’s health…
around the grazing field of the night-gowns
in course of a long-journey by train one has to cross
many grass-hopper-points
one-piece of life is this
in its daily walking to pick up the pebbles of
which is the amplification of what
the bodies of all prose and poems are touched with
by the sunshine by the wind by the rain by the water
it-may-be-for-you afternoon is running
running
is the people after the office-break
running are the broken people
the sullen public
due to late-running of train
before the darkness sets in
on bare branches of the tree
clusters of crows
are running
forward steps of the return-home people
are running
many invitations has been remained
unattended … accumulating…
accumulating…
so much anger…
many secret pains…
tears…
the life is running
in the rows of the flying birds
the life is running
in the meat-houses…
in the shopping-malls…
in the churches…
in the wheat-fields…
running … running … running…
salad poetry and salsa-dance are also
running…
in the letters of the alphabet…
in the swarm of mosquitoes…
from William Shakespeare
to Rabindranath Thakur
the sky is running …
the air…
the sunlight…
Categories:
salsa, fantasylife, people, life, people,
Form:
Pantoum
Mango Salsa on Sole
Easy on the eye
No matter the occasion or weather
What you see before you is what you get!
No need for fancy dressing or extreme makeovers
Very inviting, full of tease
Hot and spicy! Colorful and tangy
Sweet, bold, zesty!
Exploding volcanic flavors
Igniting dormant taste buds
Satisfying my hunger
So refreshing in the desert sun
Warms my heart at Sundays brunch
Full of surprises, bringing joy and delight
A little burn every now and then
Followed by passionate amends, inviting
I can’t help but love Mango salsa on sole
This food for my soul
Categories:
salsa, introspection, love, passion
Form:
Free verse
Setting the scene
The scene of the dance
The heat and sizzle
The dusk and sun setting
A mirage like a hot, red fire-ball
Searing into the horizon
Casting an orange hue over all the
Sun touches
The steam and sweat and passion
Climbing in the small Spanish bar,
The salsa, the tango,
Castanets clicking, the Latino feel
Her dress stuck to her tanned wet skin
The perspiration dripping from his brow,
Salt on his lips, he breathes in deeply
The tense bicep holding her lean
back in a low dip,
His damp, black shirt billows open
with his rapid movements,
His breath on her neck and cascading
down her cheek
The gasp of air as he brings her back up, his
Firm hand gently placed in the small of her back
Guiding her every step, sway, slide and stamp
The pirouettes, over and over
She’s spinning around his frame,
The heel and toe, the stamp of his feet
The whip of her brown hair as she turns to and fro,
Her soft curls tickling his bare shoulders
She flicks and kicks and jumps in his arms
Muscles tight in her legs, her thighs rigid
He twists and turns, the heels clicking on
Acacia wood, the smell is intense
The smell of dance and Latin heat
They pull away, snap close together, she drops through
His legs, into splits on the warm floor, effortlessly,
He lifts her with one arm, her heels on the wood
back up against a chest so broad
Breathless, she holds unto his body, his neck, his pulse throbbing
Her ankles weak, feet numb, the dance has ended
His stare intense, lungs ache, his arms around her back,
She reaches for his hair, the music fades into silence
The dance has ended,
The passion just begun…
Categories:
salsa, love, mystery, passion, people,
Form:
Lyric