the tent was on fire with enthusiasm
men’s imaginations inflamed by the sexy entertainers
I was incredibly proud of my mother the lead dancer
and her sister, Aunt Liv, the choreographer
“If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.”
~Oscar Wilde
the sky smiles as it watches us
dance in the light of a silver moon
on the veranda of an infinite cosmos~
the only way to make a star
dance in the light of a silver moon,
to music of the spheres as it falls
into a symphony of our poem
on the veranda of an infinite cosmos
where time is the choreographer
of tangos and tragedies~
the only only way to make a star
is with each spark of love we fling
into night's lengthening shadow.
She was imaginative, artistic and clever.
An inspired visionary who never said never.
A poet, dancer, singer, choreographer, artist too.
Bright, personable and ingenious, my sister Sue.
We knew with these talents she would go far.
But she fell in love with a controlling ass named Jar.
Jar told her how high to jump, how to climb the stairs and such.
Her life was simple and joyless after that; we did not see her much.
We are going to do a flash mob dance Comet told the crew.
I have a choreographer trained reindeer to help, her name is Bonnie Sue.
Vixen and Blitzen were miffed, because it was not their idea at all.
Dasher and Rudolph did not hear, they were watching snow fall.
Bonnie Sue came in and kept all the reindeers on their hooves for sure.
She had a sassy way about her, she was full of holly and manure.
Olive was irritated, because she was not asked to choreograph the dance.
Don’t be persnickety said Donner who thought with B.S. he had a chance.
Their dance steps were merry, they left prints all over the fresh snow.
Santa tried to find them but with all these prints he did not know…
Where his reindeer were or what mischief they were about.
Olive past him on her way out, her nose was in a snooty pout.
Dancer and Prancer said “we hear Santa” and all the dancing stopped.
Pretend we're rioting for better rations, said new elf named McFlopped.
“that won’t work, let me handle this, my friends,” with reindeer cheer.
Cupid lied to Santa’s face, so coal will be in his stocking again this year.
Lets Minichu On Dreams Poetry Contest
11/11/23 Mohan Chutani
Dance, dance, dance little girl!
A dancer, a choreographer were my dreams.
I twirled, whirled.
Married too young.
Worked, worked and worked, down were my dreams.
They flung.
Dance, swing
in my bloodstream.
Zing!
Dance, dance, dance little girl!
Worked, worked and worked, down were my dreams.
Zing!
She Dances
‘ She dances, she glances
Beyond her shoulder
She peers
Looking back
Her beautiful smile
She poses in the mirror.’
She prances, balances
Backward and forward.
She cheers
Steps tip toe.
Her charming dimple !
Simple choreographer.
Wonder
is like Joy
except more below the waist
and less above,
said the Muse
to the Choreographer.
Awe
accompanies Wonder
and yet feels more silent bass
and less trembling treble
cleft,
said the Choreographer
to the RightHand dominant
Composer
Joy sings
overflowing Awesome pelvic dance
more above the neck
and less wondrously below
our DarkWhole sacred chakra
of deep lusty Integrity,
said the Masseur
to the multiculturing Muse,
face down on his table.
Wonder
is like Joy
except more below the waist
and less above,
repeated the Muse
to his hopeful Choreographer.
Painter paints with a brush and hooded mind.
Dentist extracts, injects with a pointed mind.
Mind of cacophony is what a singer has.
Orator hails, evading a faux pas.
Chef cooks with an aproned mind.
Scientist invents, minded with formulas.
Cartoonist strokes, gifted with artistry
Dubber voices over to cover up travesty.
A wrestler can break anybody with a ranting mind.
Audience can just watch and listen with a calming mind.
If a dancer prances with a swirling mind
then a choreographer can relax to unwind.
So many other occupations with distinct minds,
Instructive of vocations and interests
descriptive of master minds.
What is your job?
I engaged her in a passionate Tango
While I checked her bank account
Almost suffered from a seizure
At the vast disclosed amount
So I wined her and i dined her
And I set out to seduce
And to my amazement
I thought she’d fallen for my ruse.
We waltzed and we quickstepped
Around the ballroom floor
Until I suddenly realised
I couldn’t dance anymore
Then, she enrolled me, controlled me
And with such consummate skill
She guided me, and she plied me
Until I complied with her will.
Such an expert choreographer
As I soon learnt to my cost
And by the Last Waltz accepted
I’d indisputably lost
It’s a marriage of great passion
And we regularly grab the chance
To celebrate our union
In the intimacy of the dance.
Now we Tango and we Foxtrot
Through a carefree type of life
I’m the epitome of contentment
Thanks to my rich and loving wife.
They say we’re a handsome couple
As we welcome and explore
The pleasures of our existence
On life’s exciting ballroom floor.
Today is a fresh start
Does not matter what happened up until now
We can have a redo
Do not look back.
This is not a do-over or a rewind.
Today is a new beginning
We can write a new chapter
Paint a mural
Choreographer a new dance.
An opportunity to revitalize yourself.
Today is a gift
God has given to us
It is the first time
And the last time
We will ever see this day
Enjoy it to the utmost – play, sing, laugh, twirl with joy!
Our planet spins on its tilted axis
At a speed of around a thousand
Miles per hour,
Whilst also rotating around the sun
At a speed of sixty-seven-thousand
Miles per hour,
Could all of this be controlled by an
Omnipotent power?
We live in a universe that
Is constantly changing,
Creating, destroying
And continually rearranging,
We live in a world that has more
Questions than answers,
Could there be an
Omnipotent choreographer,
And we’re merely the dancers?
I am a sucker for musicals
A vexation for I neither sing or dance well.
They are my favorite form of entertainment
Possibly because I also cannot
play the flute, piano, saxophone
or be a conductor or a choreographer
Musicals or uplifting and delightful tome
in spite of my obvious limitations
Leaves of burnished gold take flight
Whirling spirals, with childish delight
A final pirouette without a sound
Before they sadly hit the ground
Their dance is done, they take their place
Piously accepting autumn,with simple grace
Wearing faded colors of garnet, gold and green
They serenely exit, from the final scene
The footlights diminished for another year
Until the choreographer of Spring, faithfully reappears
Leaves will emerge in sunshine and bathe in the rain
A glorious celebration for the dance to begin again
Do you want to join the circus? Yes, my crazy Uncle Jerry said.
So he was put to work, good thing he skipped school that day, huh?
The next day he was joined by his best neighborhood pals - Tom, Dick and Ted.
They had a blast learning to put up circus tents and paint signs red.
My mean old grandparents would not let him go on the road to the next town.
He could have been a high wire choreographer, ringmaster or alligator maid.
A parade marshal, acrobat or cotton candy vendor, all around.
His parents had trouble forcing him to return to boring sixth grade.
Pennants' edges curling up, peeling away from fading walls--
Lions listless, languid, lost ~ Tigers timid, tame, tepid--
Floorboards waxed like glass, nothing strewn, no disarray, no chunks
of petrified food accusing.
The Choreographer of clutter
The Enabler of entropy
The Maestro of mountainous messes
The Fife and Drumbeat of detritus
has moved on
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