Best Tap Poems
raindrops tap dancing
to a falling melody
thunderous applause
The reason the radicals are slapping labels on you
Is because you're strong and refuse to be silent.
One thing they love is a dog that rolls over.
One thing they fear is a fighter who throws down.
Never give in to the bullhorn -cancel crowd.
Never be silenced because silence is death.
For you and our faith-fight to the last man.
At times you've got to tap them in the mouth.
Tinkle on their campfire, then lay them to rest-
Joyfully, I went
Tap dancing on the moon,
Stirring up moon dust,
To scatter in your dreams,
To make you smile and snuggle
Way down in the soft, satin, pocket
Of my love...
Oh Yes!
Cynthia
Lucky left on Thursday
a stroke
Friday no tip tap in hallway
Saturday no tip tap in hallway
Sunday morning, we woke to tip tap in hallway
"Did you hear that?"
Jumped out of bed.
New dog had come into the doggy door.
Not Lucky, but another black dog,
needing a home.
It's too soon, my husband said.
He took her to the vet for her shots on Monday.
Was raving about her on Tuesday.
Fed her chicken, beef, eggs, all the good stuff.
Gave her chocolate which everyone knows not to do.
New dog, Sophie, stayed at the vet overnight to get spayed.
I woke up at 2 a.m. to Lucky's familiar tip tap in hallway.
Jumped out of bed and ran to look.
I believe she was letting us know that she is
Sophie's spirit dog.
grey clouds foreshadow
blue rain tap dancing on roof
Sweet symphony song
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 plumage, blushing boas
Webbed feet tap and stamp below,
an aquatic burlesque show
The flamenco dance named after you
Rose-tinted creature tranquil, wader
Hook-billed blackened lamellae
sieved nobly, an intense look in a print
Cluster buster of pink with lengthy legs that sprint
I Cooked the Book that Would Not Tap
A Doomsday, a nightmare gone wrong,
My hand shot with pain and didn’t stop,
Bandages hid the wound I wove for kong,
The silence echoed round the wheel fop.
I screamed with tears which said the news,
When sirenes had been screened for writ,
Draughts unveiled the blood for reviews,
That cared enough to dare read the fit.
Arching, the doctor stood vacant and here,
Physicalism bent metaphor until she looped,
Analogy personified emphatic nature’s fear,
When realism criticised cubisms’ truly trooped.
Critical realism still made no ontological sense,
My metaphysical slippers knew no god,
Subjectivism objected to empirical arms tense,
When constructivism departed from my odd.
I could not write to epistemology for methodology,
‘Cos clearly my relativity had got it substantive.
Moral absolutism saw humankind as pedagogy,
Still, not yet a guess, a list, a bond, gift, a plaintiff.
Rationalism was not a natural phenomenon, fair,
No predicates set my entities alight to condition,
The proposition adjunct to abstract and layer,
I imagined the mathematics that truly supposition.
This OR that, tip AND rat, not for me or negation
FOR ALL humanities THERE EXISTS a surreal,
Mere, underneath my formula, nude propagation,
Creating the sum of me that axiomed regal’s legal.
Logic. Logic, just pure blooded logic. Critical,
Crucial. Conscience, not questioning the cost, fact,
Never asking for terms or claim, the carer brutal,
The dame. The lame as mentioning the act.
Structural.
Rhoda Monihan
I saw a tap-dancer with
Squirming sheaf of vigor
Toes tapping as if dancing.
Is he hoping for a rendezvous?
His Dachshund-clan romance?
Prancing around like ponies
With gentle nose, silent eyes
With sweet licks and nuzzles.
Care free clan, if they like it
It can never be of anyone else.
If they take it anything from anywhere
It’s theirs and of nobody else’s.
The four legged hairy puppets
With all the fascinating features.
I don’t think a dachsie thinks of money
Or fame or other worldly pleasures
But thinking of the pure love of God
Remembering always those moments
By waggling his tail with pure love and joy.
When He made him to brighten up
The day of Adam and Eve and then
Christening them as “dog”, a reflection
Of His own as one looks into the mirror.
January 20, 2015
Form : Free verse
Contest:Dachshunds
There was a woodpecker whacking,
Continuous sound nerve-racking.
Distressed in the mind,
Making my teeth grind,
Tap-tapping will send me packing.
Standing outside, I clapped my hands,
Sending him off to no-man's land.
But no, he just sat,
And started to tap.
His tapping, how will I withstand?
For Poet Destroyer's contest, 'Silly (Funny)'
'twas a dark and rainy night as she hurried home after missing the last tram.
She never gave a thought for the mysterious man in the shadows as she passed by.
In a heavy raincoat, his hat pulled down, masking his eyes, he began to follow.
All she heard was the tap, tap, tap of a walking cane coming behind her.
She felt her heart race, looking about for a friendly face, there was no one,
Just the tap, tap, tap of the cane echoing on the cobbled street.
She could see her house, it seemed so far away, she tried not to panic,
Her feet slipping on the rain slicked cobbles as she neared safety.
Tap, tap, tap, it was incessant, driving her half crazy with fear,
Her feet felt like lead, her dry throat strangling the scream that filled her head.
Tap, tap, tap, ever closer, the beads of sweat now stinging her eyes,
Tap, tap, tap, she was shaking and lightheaded, fearing the worst.
She fumbled for her door key, her fingers trembling,
She opened the door and turned on the light in one swift movement.
Tap, tap, tap. It stopped.
Her stomach in knots, she slowly turned to look outside.
" Granddad" , she said, " why didn't you say something?"
Beginning to think of Halloween now.
© Dave Timperley September 2014
TAP TAP (A Writer's Contemplation)
Tap, tap. I promptly turned to view.
and felt somehow it could be you.
Where have you been, I tersely cried?
... 'Here' just here' -it seemed she lied.
'I was afraid! Where did I go wrong,
that you, your twin were long time gone?
Silence. Like a slumberous dream
I held back from a silent scream
Without you, life is hard to bear.
You brighten days with ideas to share.
Why do you come from nowhere seen,
to tempt me with your wiles extreme?
Then fade away to my lament,
I know it was not your intent
to have me struggle so.
As my thoughts so slowly form,
without your help, can they be born?
Or just languish in a potless stew ,
sunk to the depth of bitter brew.
You rise and in an instants flair
remind me that you're fully there
with a tap tap so lightly put,
like a kitten's soft insistent foot
upon my reverie.
Still I should thank you if I must
although it seems a breach of trust
When I need you, you're not here
and with your sibling disappear.
So please, please stay I must implore.
I'll keep for you an open door.
for you my mistress, inspiration
and your twin muse imagination,.
C.A.K. 1-5-2012 Revised 4-12-2013
Tippity tappity tip
tap tip
Tapping the toes
with a flip of the
hip
Pause for some water
– take a big sip
Then pump up the
volume and really
let rip
Attention's gone
Doesn't seem like there's anything going on.
Sitting around
Trying to find something to fill this time I've found.
Frustrations show
I could've been more productive today, I know.
But instead
I think I'll spend the rest of the day in bed.
Who needs motivation when there's nothing else to do?
Where's the inspiration when there's nothing driving you?
I guess the lack of time my friend, is really not the issue.
It's figuring how to get the ball rolling to get to the things that will ensue.
In the midst of boredom; I'm in its throes
I'll twiddle my fingers and tap my toes
taping dancing freedom
on the mountaintop
tiptoeing
the mountain top
we slipped
fell like children
of Sisyphus
shooting galleries
caught us
life’s struggle
is over
weep not child
tomorrow comes
bearing new beginnings
if you believe
in the beginning
Tip-Tap Tip-Tap
here she comes
tapping her stilettos
humming her favorite song
swaying to the music of wind
Tip-Tap Tip-Tap
there she is
whispering to a flower
giggling like a teenage girl
flicking her playful hair
Tip-Tap Tip-Tap
there she is
tap-dancing on the tin roof
laughing her heart out
exuding cheerfulness
Tip-Tap Tip-Tap
there she goes
walking the lush green carpet
humming her goodbyes
leaving a whiff of earth-scented air
Tip-Tap Tip-Tap