Jigging Poems | Examples

Rhyming rhymes

The talk of talkers talking
The jig of jiggers jigging
The thoughts of thinkers thinking 
The songs of singers singing

The win of winners winning
The words of writers writing 
The fights of fighters fighting 
The sins of sinners sinning

Jester

He filled his head with ballads,
His fingers full of notes,
He wore a jester’s hat
And multicoloured coat.
And he burst onto the street 
One Wednesday Market day,
With his lute in his hand 
And he began to play.

He sang songs of freedom,
He sang songs of joy,
He sang songs of love,
For every girl and boy.
A crowd quickly gathered
Listened to what he played
Got bigger and bigger
As everybody stayed.

And he set their feet a jigging.
And he set their minds alight.
You could see the faces 
Just aglow with delight.

He danced a few steps,
Just a few, no more
Then following applause
Danced just a few more.
He sang another silly song
Then having played his game
Quickly made his exit
Back from whence he came.

For some weeks they returned
Hoping for a repeat,
But he was miles away 
Bringing joy to other streets.
With his head full of ballads
His fingers full of notes
In his jester’s cap
And multicoloured coat

Tiny Irish Dancer

I am dancing with St. Pat the little Dublin girl sang out
Click click click clack her feet clicked over and about.
She was doing a jig, with no training whatsoever.
The rain had stopped, it was turning to good weather.

Click click click the shoes sang out, against the floor.
“Erin go braugh!” yelled out the eejit next door.
“Ireland forever!” I yelled back, being neighborly.
The tiny Irish dancer continued jigging it with glee.

Old, Oh, Goodness

Old?  Oh, Goodness!
The old lady is jiggling the bed!
With her earphones on, bobbing her head,
Tipping her shoulders to front and back,
  To up and down — her chest the same.
If the partial-paralysis hadn’t set in so
  Eight months ago, she’d be in a quick go
  Up jigging across the room to  reel with
That Irish, God-praising banjo she listens to.

Old lady, her moves shaking the sheets off!
Quite a sight to see!  And, too,
  With the angels around her bed clapping in time
And tapping along to the beat of joy’s music.    
Her physical therapist had said to keep moving,
“There’s no such word as ‘can’t’ and you 
Aren’t old ’til you hit three digits,” which means,         
  The old lady tallies: she has three decades 
Of swaying, twisting, bowing and turning to go!

———————————————————————-
(c) sally Young eslinger 1/18/221
Thanks be to God

I Am --

My own gypsy roaming in countless hemispheres
A painter who splashes emotions of life’s tones
Maybe a lightkeeper flaming a child’s wonder
Also, a bookworm awed by enigmatic anti-heroes
My siblings’ event planner for grand occasions
Yes, a film buff loading adrenalin at plot’s turn
This off-key  singer come open mic time 
An insolent activist when values are compromised
My kin’s nervous wreck... afraid of heights
A non-stop dancer jigging even on tabletops!
Indeed, an angel card reader faking psychic powers
A believer of joy based on destiny number 7 
The female version of Pan trapped in child-like whims
An incurable romantic who dreads goodbyes
This poet draining the marrow of a parched pen
A meditation/ yoga soul grounded in nothingness
Thus, one pilgrim in search of my higher self’s grail


~ In my roller-coaster, charmed world, I am still
finding parts of myself that thirst to be known.


I AM Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
5/11/2020

Damaged Goods At the Rosebloom Flats

The dust sifts and falls with the Rosebloom powder
To sieve and assume, survival hast made him prouder
All alone like a wolf that's lost
Roaming and trotting, breath crystallising a soft cloud 
No Mum, dad or Cubs that's the cost

Apocalyptic fields lead him under and over dusty arches
Sent upon his penultimate marches
A two way transceiver, voice from the heavens
Job 27 the last job in the bloomfields 
Hookers lips and dancing girls sad eyes of repression 

What a spectacle @ the rosebloom flats, startling frequencies 
Warping screams of a girl incorporating ballet
Into a escape attempt from the jigging flames
Welcome to the rosebloom flats hysteria in the air
A hundred infinite Windows expressing her adversity  

They all perish not forgotten, you've forgotten that they point
Apocalypse and lonely wolves and an impossible mercy
Off you go on your final walk
The walk towards your delusions
Dreams and nightmares don't mix at least with sandy roses

Friday Feeling - Jigging - Reeling

JIGGING - REELING

Friday, got that wild anticipated, weekend feeling.
Respite, two days of fun, jigging, reeling.
Ireland, weekend free, looking at the cealing!
Dreaming, still Friday, concealing, appealing,
a weekend with no stock and share dealing.
Yes, Friday a faint memory, on stage, jigging reeling!

#Friday #feeling - #Poetry Contest, sponsored by Silent One

Bald Spot

Now what’s the matter with my hair?
It’s thinning  balding -–such despair
As  buddies jest  that I’m  ‘top gone’
With  strands flaking one by one.
The barber whips piles of spray net
Yet coif flops,  this manhood upset
While I grab the latest toupee
And style a  bob which looks like hay!
Meanwhile, gals I need to attract
Believes new shave  is a  cool act...
With pierced ears studded,   I am grand
Jigging on like a   hip-hop band!

Dear me, today, life's all brand new
Nobody peeps at my head's  view.



For Barry Stebbings’  Contest
Oh Dear, What Can The Matter Be   2/13/2018

Flamenco In Sevilla

Sevilla, the evening pins flowers on your hair
A pirouette of tasselled gown rustles by
Igniting a lusty swirl along theater’s wing,
Over spotlights on red liquefied hips
That kiss of flamenco gyres into a dance ;
Relishing the wine which drips as you lift
And tap those feet through moonshine’s gloam:
O, such swaggers devour my senses
While Latin music sets the castanets ablaze--
Then a pause, a sensuous movement, jigging.

Sevilla, you are a luscious pageant of a song,
A brief canticle gliding on my bones, that I
Fondle you in the dark    caressing scented nape:
What endless thrill you bring on an August dusk!
Then together drunken madly ,   recklessly 
I will be  love's sunrise, and you my finale's art,
As  this heart etches a twirl in flamenco sighs,
Clinging to each refrain of such possessed trance.



For Silent One's Contest:
Poems That Paint a Picture-3    9/24/2017
~ a most memorable dinner in Sevilla
watching a Flamenco concert~

Under Heaven

Under heaven they convened 
Wrapped with the clouds they conjured
Amidst much wordings they wand 
Festering the realms of the firmaments
Tinkering with the Asoro of thunder
Blazing with the rage of lightening 
Vanquishing a host 
with the waves of the wind
thus flooding away the thrones of clans

under heaven but burrowed inside the earth 
hence tapping from every stepping sole 
unearthing the souls settled with ele
tying knots with their roots
while jigging macabre beneath foundations

under heaven but submerged in raging fluid   
deep within a zillion echoes
Creed with a million vetos
Drifting objects to various subjects
Amidst gallons grudging the seventh yank
While dipping mortals
Salted to their watery bed

Zinnia

Zinnia…garland of evening; I
yield to such innocent blush;
xanthic as your  moonlight’s hue
winging along the  field’s  minty air--
vulnerable are those eyes that can
unleash a charm seen only by a few.
Time and again, a mild gloss
shimmers on your curved outline
releasing  petal drops ever
quietly : crepe tassels bobbing  to
peep among embroidered leaves
offering sweet incense for
nightfall’s prints etched  unto
meadows, wafting  with tuneful
lilts of stems bathed in dew.  Oh, you
kindle a twirl  with floral sisters
jigging daintily as if to pull me closer
in  a prance; the one I dream about
high on a wood’s lucent  trail.
Gently, my arms swing around, back and
forth until I lay on your zinnia  confetti
embracing my tingled flesh,  limbs,
deep within your moistened soil… oh how
corollas glaze into my Asian sky,
breathlessly dressed by night, leaves flickering
as you wave goodbye when summer ends!


-------------
First ever Z Y X contest
Sponsor: john lawless
10/12/2015

After the Storm

After the storm eased slowly
Big waves smashed against the shore
Causing havoc everywhere
Drinking more than he should
Eating until stuffed
Feet sliding everywhere
Grabbing at straws
He caught on to what he could
Into the sea he waded
Jigging about he got soaked
Keeping to his feet only just
Looking everywhere
Masts in the distance
Nothing else out there
Or not that he could see
Perhaps a castle far away
Queen could be dining
Royal banners flapping
Swimming towards it
Took a long time
Under the spell
Victory not clear
Washed up on the shore
Xebec sailing past
Yacht moored near by
Zanzibar in the distance

Imprisoned

IMPRISONED     (collaboration)


by~  Jun-jun Villanueva

Urbane cavalcade - flaunt in gaiety
Warbling hymns in ego - cyclicity
Jigging gracile moves in vivacity
Relishing in zest in this gravity
Kinsfolk in flamboyant fete - oh its fate?
Smiles, elation in face delineate
Like nothing's wrong makes me exasperate
No one cares? No one adores? it's too late
Recurrent nightmares peeve me in sublime
Making incubuses remorse in rhyme
Bequeathing qualm, fright and fear - death like crime
Kith and kin in laughs while I'm in grave time...


by~ Poet Destroyer

Twittering chime parade of glee
Unspectacular weed flowing trough me.
Boxed in a box like a tick or flea.
No one understands- what they can't see!
Outside myself holding my breath-
Or should I say what is left?
Trapping torment with false courtesy.
Preexisted past, without certainty.
Locked in a sanctuary grave of ivory ribs,
My life in a vault- trashed crib.
Feet lashing against my skin.
Twirling the rootless valves of sin.
No one cares! No one adores!
My prison trash coffin brought ashore.


~~~~~an entry for " POET DESTROYER's MY COLLABORATION CONTEST"

Imprisoned - Jun-Jun Villanueva

IMPRISONED     (collaboration)


by~  Jun-jun Villanueva

Urbane cavalcade - flaunt in gaiety
Warbling hymns in ego - cyclicity
Jigging gracile moves in vivacity
Relishing in zest in this gravity
Kinsfolk in flamboyant fete - oh its fate?
Smiles, elation in face delineate
Like nothing's wrong makes me exasperate
No one cares? No one adores? it's too late
Recurrent nightmares peeve me in sublime
Making incubuses remorse in rhyme
Bequeathing qualm, fright and fear - death like crime
Kith and kin in laughs while I'm in grave time...


by~ Poet Destroyer

Twittering chime parade of glee
Unspectacular weed flowing trough me.
Boxed in a box like a tick or flea.
No one understands- what they can't see!
Outside myself holding my breath-
Or should I say what is left?
Trapping torment with false courtesy.
Preexisted past, without certainty.
Locked in a sanctuary grave of ivory ribs,
My life in a vault- trashed crib.
Feet lashing against my skin.
Twirling the rootless valves of sin.
No one cares! No one adores!
My prison trash coffin brought ashore.


A collaboration with * Jun-jun Villanueva

My collaboration contest

' Imprisoned In My Self-Imposed World '

*^*

====================


Urbane cavalcade - flaunt in gaiety
Warbling hymns in ego - cyclicity
Jigging gracile moves in vivacity
Relishing in zest in this gravity
Kinsfolk in flamboyant fete - oh its fate?
Smiles, elation in face delineate
Like nothing's wrong makes me exasperate
No one cares? No one adores? it's too late
Recurrent nightmares peeve me in sublime
Making incubuses remorse in rhyme
Bequeathing qualm, fright and fear - death like crime
Kith and kin in laughs while I'm in grave time...
Storm clouds nestling Earth crying myriad tears
Totem poles stand like Death’s coming soon – near
Feeling of being neglected –in fear
Am I really being loved? Cry? can’t hear. . .

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