Best Tarantella Poems
Night of Aurora
Dance of Life -
Night of Aurora before the midnight sun,
Before the polar threshold of the daystar,
As Aurora’s swirling spirals flicker
In winsome purple-green electric flashes,
Dappled spectral neon scarves
From nighttide’s celestial dust,
Dance of barefoot soul bewitched -
Arrayed in fiery folds of scarlet-red
Leaps from star to star
When snow buntings chant
Artic serenades with her melody
As silence falls in silver solitude
Of flashing silent symphonies
Across philharmonic fantasies –
Dance of the artic
Beauty in diaphanous neon,
Ephemeral bursts of celestial streamers
Surge from astral pavilions,
Splash in sheer waves of gossamer mauve,
When lavender prisms pirouette
In charged rhapsodies over the fair isles
With sweeping pirouettes
Dance of the ancestors –
Ethereal ribbon dance in cascading rainbows
To tell tidings of sonorous harmony
From those released past the limits of the sky
They wear kaleidoscopes of happy hues
While Aurora dances a tarantella to say
She rejoices too.
11-17-22
Checked the Thesaurus for the spelling of “nighttide.”
Twenty-nine lines of poetry
Contest: Poetry Marathon - Mile 22
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Categories:
tarantella, light, sky, winter,
Form:
Free verse
Rain Dancer
Days and nights of hibernation
within the clapboard walls,
winter winds have eased
and only the sound of rain peals
upon the storm glass panes.
The desire to go out, to run, to scream
is strong, yet, on the rain taps a tarantella.
The parting soil unbound from icy grasp
permits the spear of crocus and of daffodil
and though the rain drones
an accompaniment with the clock
sleep does not come.
Knots of lassitude untwine
as child-like upon the open porch I stand
reaching upturned palm into the falling rain
watching as it strokes the waking ground.
Cleansed are we all by sky and rain and wind
rain on, bless the ground, let Spring begin.
Categories:
tarantella, nature, rain, rain,
Form:
Free verse
How I would love to dance with you along the Naples bay,
And then escape towards our restaurant beyond the archway.
Listen, as they play love songs with gusto on the mandolin
As Peppinello prepares the dough which in a round form he'd spin.
Outside, a young lass dances with flare her tarantella.
And everyone shouts with glee "Give us more gracious Stella."
Meanwhile Peppinello always ready to cater for our taste
Suggested a Marguerita enough that would not go to waste.
And to counter the exquisite taste of our choice, a famous wine,
A red Oddero Barbera d’Alba, guaranteed to make a fine dine.
Satiated with our fine food we go for a short stroll.
The famous Castel dell'Ovo being our primary goal.
It is already deep night and on the sea stars shine bright.
Tired but happy we return to our hotel for the night.
Categories:
tarantella, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Sundrops dapple umbrageous trees
strewing uncut diamonds, littering the path
with ambient flickers of what lies beyond.
Sundrops freckle ocean's surface
accenting the ripples that pattern the waves,
nuzzling playful kisses toward the warm beach.
Sundrops seduce the wayward wind
pirouetting with the aphids blissful dance,
a frenzied tarantella across my lips.
Categories:
tarantella, environment, insect, nature, ocean,
Form:
Tristich
This Christmas started out just the same
as all thee other one's I mean mom
baking her famous fruit cake
while my two aunt argue back and forth
over my uncle Paulie being late with the turkey again
spending hours on his famous meatball sauce
quite the ritual as everyone does their part
about midday thee sorting of Christmas lights
awaiting aunt sister Mary Agnes to come
strolling in with a fresh cut tree
she finds every year at Our lady of Mount Carmel
faithfully father carmine always picks the wreath
bringing a bottle of Russo to enhance the mood
but what did i know soon pop rushes to the cellar
retrieving his state of thee art
phonographic record player way before our time
he would say struggling with the cords of an old RCA
clutching his 78 record collection of frank Sinatra
Mario Lanza Nat King Cole the Andrew sisters Lawrence welk
by now i had drifted into stage four of boredom
when the annual box of ornaments pass by
being carried by my clumsy brother Anthony
tangled in the cords of pop's record player again
he chuckles at the busy lad the song began to sound
my Nona and uncle Luigi start arranging the chairs
making a dance floor Italian pastries are being served
with long belly laughs forcefully bringing them all to tears
year after year my aunts began to cry with happiness
pinching cheeks when everyone stop's what they were doing
to join in a tarantella dance pop catches me pouting
he began to sing along chanting his favorite song capturing
my smile with what's a matter you hey what are gonna say hey
don't you like a this place hey shut up a your face
Anthony and Yolanda Nicholsen Catholic war veterans
Categories:
tarantella, allah,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
To a rhythm my feet were moving.
Left, right, T.A.N.G.O.
Moving at a pace full of life and spirit.
A willing partner I had.
Twirl, pause, five steps always ahead.
Stamp and up he holsters me.
He was best with the twist.
My hips would gyrate.
Moving at the steady pace of his grasp.
Completely igniting my body fiercely.
I could not help but change my pace.
To a beat from Santana
I enacted to a tarantella dance.
Feeling his strong hands;
Hold, feel, touch and inflict.
Aphrodisiac some would say.
Perfect partner I thought.
1, T.W.O.S.T.E.P. we go
1, 2 he leads me.
I follow like a loyal dog, the irony.
I loved dancing.
I loved dancing with him.
Cha-cha he changed the pace.
Cha-cha I felt my heart beat.
His hands slithering.
His body away from me it went.
Coming back again for a sultry dance of shag.
The dream partner I needed.
Zouk he dances again.
Paso-doble he serenaded.
My heartbeat getting stronger.
My feet moving willingly.
Moving closer.
His hands grabbed me softly closer.
Waltzing he teased the tip of my nose.
Moving slowly down to my lips.
Allemande our arms where.
He whispered in a tricotee tone.
Au revoir my sweet.
I’m sorry to be such a bag.
But our dance has come to an end.
Cakewalk he strode away.
A partner he was to me.
But never was I to him.
Fox trot I complimented myself.
A fool I felt as I broke in a hora dance alone.
My perfect partner was gone.
I guess those who understand dance moves will understand this, but Im pretty sure its understandable ;-)
© Herzel Poshiwa
Categories:
tarantella, dance, goodbye, lust,
Form:
Blank verse
Affairs of the heart
As long as I see a smile
I know that I live
As long as I know you are here
I know I have some more time to breathe
My heart beats by your breath
Programmed only to love one
Don’t say you love me
My heart knows you do
Our silent moments…..
A whole heart to heart conversation goes on
As long as I see a smile
My mouth never runs dry
It will always tell you
Broadcast the secrets of the heart
Secrets that the heart would rather keep to its self
Always green my eyes will stay
Seeing you smile to another
My heart will never stop
Beat rhythmically to the tarantella of your beauty
My mind will always be alert
Thinking of you
My mouth always mime your name
Obsessed you may call it
I think it is hypnotization
Tears down your cheeks
I’ll dry them with affection
Your sorrows,
Change them into joy
A walking stick
I’ll be for you
A royal carriage ill carry you everywhere
Your shoes
Ill fit my feet to feel where they pinch most
Tenderize the spot before you put them on
I don’t want
Fall in love with you
I really don’t
Grow in love with you I want
For in falling
I might never rise again
Buckle up your seatbelt
For a drive into heaven
Where everything is a word away
Your love is well preserved
Your joy is my inspiration
Your body is my blanket
Your love is my pride
You
You are me
Categories:
tarantella, love, heart, heart, love,
Form:
Epic
Like a sweet child in ballet
toe steps glide across the archway,
A graceful pirouette holding breath and heartbeat
balanced then suddenly rising like modern athletes.
A rhythmic cadence hustles across the days
when life is simple and living all game play,
Then the day waltzes methodic 3/4 weeks
sashaying manic tango pause then slips away piqued.
The merengue drags bodies closely touched
sweeping lags across the room in two quarters clutched,
bolero sharps and turns spinning like the fading years
lost in the frenzy of living fast and freely shed tears
A twisting stomp to slap the earth
quick tarantella wild winds giving birth,
a shuffle into polonaise gentle and lullaby eyes
slides to rest in minuet reprieves and haunting cries.
Too soon the days are months turned to years
and decades lost to the aging cheers,
gone is the youth of preset times
lost but not forgotten holding their prime.
Like the dance that stirred our spirits long ago
dream and memory holds steady in life's shows,
there is no end for life's pawn,
the dance lives forever a youthful swan.
Categories:
tarantella, dance, life, , Lullaby,
Form:
Rhyme
The Neapolitan tarantella
is a folk dance very graceful and lively,
it was inspired by someone having been
bitten by a poisonous Taruntula.
It's fast up-beat tempo
induces a frenzied dance in a solo,
or a couple...and as they dance they sweat out
the poison of the spider's bite.
Grandma used to sing this folklorist song,
and I danced with her while loud mandolins
and tambourines accompanied her cheerful singing...
there wasn't an awkward note in her voice.
The Neapolitan tarantella, with its frantic rhythms
and shrill harmonies infused passion in great composers,
and Mendelssohn wrote his symphony...
a song dance was composed by Rossini.
The Neapolitan tarantella grandiosely plays
and everyone stops and listens to its low and high-pitched melody,
and with little hesitation they start to dance...
beneath my veranda, these folks put on a look of festivity.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
tarantella, happiness, history, music, passion,
Form:
Quatrain
The air slipped onto the gramaphone the needle cutting me bleeding on the floor as mannequins watched with there masquerade masks sewn on took my arm saying "care to dance my lady" as we waltzed into the night transcending emotions filled the room with essence as i laid head rested on his shoulders looking up around surround sound saying " i didnt think mannequins could tarantella like that " in the ballroom swinging in symetry.
Blood clotted dirt in the wound muddy dark night, disfigured body parts the flicker in my mind goes out again like a light in an obfuscated room, Drug fueled visions bottle hanging through whos that climbing through the windows fingertips single flick of the light switch painting of that ditch under the morgue worn torn asunder plunder linger gun slinger sling your hook look the parties over.
Categories:
tarantella, dance, drink, gothic, mental
Form:
Lyric
Poetry is not a beat to everyone to understand
Its not a beat to anyone’s ears
Not a rhythm to somebody’s tarantella
Neither a ringtone to anyone’s pad
Some will doze off
Some will ridicule
Some will insult
Others will walk out with passion
Only the deep eared
largely brained
Only those with taste
Passion to listen
thirsty of knowledge
Only them will get the poetry ******
Tears will wash away their naivety
Only those with a poetic eye
Categories:
tarantella, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
I had been placed in chains
Where the cripples shed their canes
And the blind regained the art of seeing.
It was a robbers’ den
And as all God fearing men,
I had assets needed freeing.
Sometimes the poet’s muse
Is a bride who will refuse
All his conjugal solicitations.
He must lure to bed
Any tramp that turns his head
With unchaste alliterations:
And so it goes...
He’d lived his life alone
In a hermitage of stone
Where he rang those bells for all occasions;
Like the feasts of saints,
For the widows’ sad complaints,
And for joyous celebrations.
It's said confusion rules
At the Festival of Fools
And the scene below just seemed to prove it.
So he clambered down
And was regent of the crown
Till Claude Frollo’s hand removed it.
He smelled her perfumed hair
From across Cathedral Square
And the fragrance soothed his loss of hearing;
For her silent dance
Cast a soul ensnaring trance
Both enticing and endearing.
She was a barefoot girl
With her gypsy skirt a swirl
As the minstrels played a tarantella;
Graceful as fabric spun
From a gently setting sun,
And he pined for Esméralda.
But when the maid fell hard
For the Captain of the Guard
As a villain plotted her seduction,
His trust was put to test
On a futile, wicked quest
In abetting her abduction.
And so he bore the blame
When the warden called his name
As they bared his back to take a whipping.
He felt each lash stroke bleed,
The injustice of the deed
Set those righteous scales to tipping.
While the Archdeacon's kin,
Who was guilty of the sin,
Stalked the halls as Satan’s emissary,
A young girl’s tortured plea
Brought his fool to guarantee
Esméralda's sanctuary.
In a defiant act
When the rebel mob attacked,
He strained his crooked back to save the maiden;
And called the angels home
With the tolling of Guillaume,
Like hard currency to trade in.
He ran from wall to wall,
Hurling curses at them all,
Raining molten lead down on the rabble,
From the gargoyles’ throats
To the beggars’ ragged coats
In a symphony of babble.
But it was all in vain;
He could laugh himself insane,
Still those oaken doors were being battered,
And the dénouement
Left his ashes in the straw,
Proving love was all that mattered.
Categories:
tarantella, allegory, desire, literature, romantic,
Form:
Lyric
Changed me yes you have already
Flying to the sky maneuvering in the milky way of beauty
The tarantella of the love songs you make my inner person sing
Sparks you throw on my face at just a thought of you
My diaphragm can’t stop shaking
Oh look at me break shake every time I sniff at your presence
A graceful lady that is part museum
Of the voices of the universe everyone sees
I will hold your voice in a little box
You will feel a hand upon your heart while I place your voice back
Into the heart from where it came from
A day will come the world will know
I was wiser
I knew all along you were mine
I know I will break you down
Melt your heart into humility
Love and care for you
You are my universe
I will go green for you
Categories:
tarantella, love,
Form:
Italia we strolled the country side throughout
the villages of Sicily peeking through stone
ways above garden nooks of Puglia catering to
the soft and sensual galleries of floral canvases
that covered scented walk ways gathering the
divine taste of hidden vines borrowed by rows
and rows of lemon trees pricking my fingers
on olive bushes again while we dazzled the
evening air beneath the moonlight both my aunts
my grandmothers sister managed to travel from
Mason Vicentino just for our annual first date as
they chuckled hardily at your vagabond loafers
mocassini's moccassini's making your cheeks
blush while looking over the balconies peering
down the cobble stones this ritual is always
carried out religiously completely steadfast as
everyone sits patiently awaiting my return my
Nonna swaying to the tarantella as soft chiffon
curtains blew in the breeze this fabric was sent
from France by my grandfather still serving in the
Army my shyness remained intact trying not to fall
over wearing my oldest sisters clogs she insisted that
I promised not to scuff them on this grand evening
finally returning to the calming comforting busom of my
family culture heritage Italia Italia and the purity
of my own chastity covenant why until matrimony
celebration like all the women in the family before me
according to my Nonna we are a of rare Greek Italian
Masons and Muses I suppose while i finally arrived
lovingly embraced by sheer wholesomeness tradition
the surety of home
Categories:
tarantella, allah,
Form:
Epithalamium
I drift by, an open window
Faintly I see a candle glow
I hear the music's happy cry
An open window, I drift by
I linger there, to hear the beat
The urge to dance grabs at my feet
A bit of fun for me to share
To hear the beat, I linger there
A moments pleasure, in our days
Perhaps the tarantella plays
A small thing but such a treasure
In our days, a moments pleasure
Fore Andrea's contest.
Categories:
tarantella, music,
Form:
Quatrain