Country Dance Poems | Examples
These Country Dance poems are examples of Dance poems about Country. These are the best examples of Dance Country poems written by international poets.
Pumpkins are made
For pies
And pies are made
For jack-o-lanterns
To
Please little girls
Who ride swings high over the city on
Cold
Mornings when others
Have found the schoolhouse
Under the ghetto waiting to transform the little leftovers
Into Wallstreetbogeymen scaring the country into
Unwanted
Growth claiming ‘More Pumpkins Are Better.’
The swing's chains are cold in late October
The seat can be wet
She
In her own glory does
Not
Notice the silence. Dreaming of
Dancing at the Met exposing truth to the music of Mendelssohn.
We linger
On the damp cool October morn
She peruses the skyline looking for the
Spot she might run to
As the swing finds a higher plane.
3d music bot that makes hearts swoon
Is what I’d leave melodies on the moon
Musical notes float like a magical mirror
Reflecting views of places applicable to each song
The notes can gather and form a body that dances
Or dissolve like sand to create lands sang about
For instance a song about the sea would be watery
The notes would create an ocean with sandy floor
Coral and sea critters swim in harmony with notes
The same notes that glow when played
Or the music may stop as an audio bops of
A jazz or opera singer pauses for emphasis
The view would be of anyone anything
Related to musical production 3d limitless
First a low lone bell chimes to alert the mind
Of a melody about to unwind like a clocks time
Then strings blend like a waterfall of rhythm
Coloring each note as a glowing universal ghost
Ghosts of civilization past present and future
Each song moves along melting into the next
Which could be a country song or a monk chanting
The magical notes twirl and float melting into the end
For it softly samples all music with minds open
On Tuesday night, you could hear music playing
old country songs, I knew right from the start
I listened to, all the words they were saying
with stories of an aching, breaking heart
I never knew, there were boot scootin’ angels
all dressed in their mid-western, clothes and styles
in that old bar, filled with root-tootin’ angels
no prairie for at least, 4,000 miles
On Tuesday night, when I heard music playing
old country songs, I knew from long ago
I sang along, to the words they were saying
and felt I’d stepped into, a rodeo
That Mary-Lou, was a boot scootin’ angel
all dressed in her mid-western, clothes and style
she was the queen, of those root-tootin’ angels
with her Stetson hat and Texan smile.
I'm neither talking about the turkey
Who’s running for President
Nor the one which is a country
Now embroiled
And roiled in turmoil
I am talking about the huge pheasant
That we all like to fest on the last Thursday
Of November every year, and on New Year’s Day.
I can’t wait to enjoy its thighs and wings
I can’t wait afterwards to make the swings
Squeak and cry, because we all weigh more
Than before: the skinny, the rich and the poor.
Happy Thanksgiving Day everybody
The President already pardoned a gorgeous turkey.
Copyright © November 25, 2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
There is a young woman named Heather
who occasionally likes to wear leather
at country line dances
where she sashays and prances;
her feet are as light as a feather.
This lovely woman named Heather
looks great in her skirt made of leather,
but nevertheless
I have to confess
she looks better in the altogether!
Ruby romance her with a silver stanza
Of purple passionate verses
Like you desire her hips her lips
To love you in entirety
Your heart mahogany and though human
Possesses flowers of love and powers above
Any green money dreams though
Money is a necessary evil
You can not really buy people
You may purchase their greed
But that’s not really what you need
You deserve authenticity’s amethyst admiration
Not a cheap purchased salutation
But don’t give and not receive
Don’t ask and yet never be giving
Courting her should be a dance
Whether waltz hip hop country or freelance
Will you feel and know instinctively
Where to put your hands
Mating celebrating selection is romance
Firecrackers will ever crack,
And you will always have my back.
Do you think, when we took that car,
We might have gone a bit too far?
I don't think when you drove that loop,
We went too far with the coupe.
Anyway, there's no way to prove -
You see, the tires did not move.
We need not be doing time -
Dancing to Dorsey is no crime.
Tires not moving, it was hearsay -
No crime to dance to Jimmy Dorsey.
I could say the very same
Of dancing to Harry James.
I like Glen Miller! D'ya know a
Place we can do the Balboa?
Country bike rides, sharing clothes -
What wonderful times were those!
We shared them with our kid brother
Who hit one pitch after another.
Just three kids out in the sticks -
Edie, Esther, Buddy Hicks.
poetry eludes my soul
when I desperately want to embrace it
when I watch dahlias blossom and dance in the wind
poetry glowing in my mind dances too
when at tranquil dawn idly lying in bed
I listen to pitter-patter of falling raindrops
when sun-god appears on his chariot driven by seven horses
illuminate horizon turning sky into flaming vermillion crimson
with my elated heart I dream poetry
poetry abandons me
when at darkest of nights I stay awake looking at the bare ceiling
wonder why unfair and cruel words still cut me mercilessly like a knife
why do I feel like a candle inside me melting till there is nothing left
fragile petals of a wilting rose ruthlessly sprawled on the hard ground
why do teardrops fall like tiniest pearls created by hurt and suffering
in a poverty-stricken country early quiet morning crows caw harshly
the young boy I see on the streets painting the exterior of a building
a torn shirt on a skeleton body shivering from biting cold
beyond my comprehension how he survives
poetry leaves me
I used to dance
when I had legs
I used to smile
when I had lips
I was from Aleppo
now I am from hospital
My country is gone
my heart is gone
If I had arms
I could paint my pain
Inside my mind
sometimes I still dance
You should see us move to the beat
with Ciara in the driving seat.
She’s on the stage ready to rock
as on us older ladies she takes stock.
To join our club you have to be
over fifty years old you see.
Our local council’s ideology
To have us interacting socially.
The music is the magic key.
It’s from that time we were
Young and care free.
Be it country and western
or rock and roll we shake a leg
and have a ball.
Ciara’s enthusiasm has us enthralled.
Her playlists and encouraging calls.
She wants us too to sing out loud.
As we kick and step and twirl around.
If there are fitness facility awards
Ciara and Fitness LK deserves applause.
Shake it up baby, twist and shout.
Swing your partner round and round,
dip down spin around do-si-doe.
Rock back to your heals,
drop down to your knees,
stick your right arm in,
stick your left arm out,
do the boot scotin boogie,
turn yourself around
and meet in the middle.
As a baby we first hear music as a lovely lullaby,
in loving arms as we are rocked to sleep.
As a toddler we learn to dance to the music,
we make funny moves to the left then to the right.
As teenagers music touches our soul,
the beat goes from head to toe.
As adults we find our music style,
it could be rock~country~blues~classical.
Music lives in us as we go through life,
touching every special moment.
I could never live without music,
it runs through my veins and soul.
From pirouettes to guitar frets
ballet to country crooners
Enchanted elegance poached
by bluegrass sand-duners
Kenya is a really poor country and you can easily buy any police person to kill someone..When some strong officials were threatening a senior journalist then there were some people Who were suggesting him to go to Kenya..Now you realise why they were saying this to him..This is Official Alien and Underworld Job..They traced him via sim cell location and finished him..Maybe there is GPS tracker in his car..Underworld DON has International contacts..The Assignment
was given by our Khufia Alien..No doubt our intelligence agencies are number One and I Am number Two second Position holder in EXposing suspicious activities of Supari Killer The Big Boss LandLord Crime King..
Charlatans and chameleons prancing in a country western dancing line
If Charlatans had stayed in place, all would have been quite fine
Charls are used to being devious, so they did underhanded things
Chameleons acted miffed and mad as the Charls began their swings.
Willie Nelson was singing in that crazy, wonderful offbeat way of his.
Charls were spreading rumors that were silly and caused a lot of fizz.
The chameleons were all angry now, and a riot started up in the bar.
No charlatans or chameleons are going to become a Broadway star.