Long Ballet Poems
Long Ballet Poems. Below are the most popular long Ballet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ballet poems by poem length and keyword.
In fiery red costumes, anger dances fire ablaze.
Anxiety, pain, and isolation, from within, gaze
Garlands of skulls, bones, and spun veins are worn invisibly.
Bloody tongue ladle, like that of a hound, quizzically
Irritability, stress, and strain are in full posture.
Arrogance, annoyance, and aggression are their gestures.
Hostility, powerlessness, and rage in ballet blend
Assumptions amalgamate with negative assessments.
Veerbhadra, Narasimha, and Mahakali unite.
With Lyssa, Medusa, and Nemesis, they seem to fight.
As the butterfly and dragonfly metamorphosis
The dance of anger ends with a congruous catharsis.
She remembers dancing in purple, satin toe shoes, in front of stage lights.
Ah, her ballet heart, so joyous, tender and light.
Agility plus ability were her most blessed twin mights.
She lived and breathed ballet delights!
times then changed........
She follows the dark, but it is still her stage light.
The older she is, the stronger her might.
Some will tag this as "memory"~
A hurtful and most unholy slight!
In a ballerina lives, an eternal, musical dream,
Where she's constantly transforming her reality.
Her hopes, roses and tenderest kisses.
For her loving, handsome, forever ballet king.
11-15-2020
Applause
My imagination soars as my soul nearly bursts with a picture and the magnificent feeling of being in complete fellowship with an uncounted group that is joined in celebration of excellence leaping as one to our feet applauding roaring altogether our absolute delight about the performance we have experienced and manifestly appreciate
while from here and there come shouts of “Bravo! Bravo!” my heart feels unrestrained as I also have felt lifted to a golden level of meaning for what being human can mean and achieve as the shouts ring out “Encore! Encore!” even louder the applause grows after the end of the opera, the play, the concert, the symphony, the ballet, the poetry reading, the gallery opening, the season’s
festivals vibrant with new creations and classic presentations inspiring us one by all to envision the us we could be so very gladly I bear the faith to know we were created by word in the full image of not only what we are but also toward what we aspire as our gatherings do lose themselves in the witnessing and call “Encore!” go on on...on to the truth of our being’s becoming.
********. ********. *********. ********
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/17/2020
Thanks be to God
Across the sunbaked plains, a hush descends so deep,
A million eyes turn skyward, secrets the heavens keep.
The moon, a silent dancer, steals the sun's golden rays,
And day surrenders softly, to a cosmic ballet.
No human hand conducts, yet a symphony takes flight,
A chorus of clicks and whispers, bathed in the fading light.
Citizen scientists rise, with smartphones held on high,
Capturing the corona's dance, a fleeting glimpse of the sky.
Crowdsourced data streams, a symphony of dreams,
Unraveling solar secrets, in the corona's diadems.
Prominences unfurl, like flames in silent prayer,
A scientific canvas, painted on darkened air.
Millions become one, a web of minds entwined,
United by the wonder, in a knowledge we can find.
From classrooms to rooftops, a shared and curious quest,
Demystifying the heavens is a collective, human test.
Drones, like fireflies, paint the twilight scene,
A mesmerising ballet, where science and art convene.
Light dances and twirls, a digital display,
Mimicking the eclipse, in a technological ballet.
Stories take flight, on social media's wings,
A tapestry woven tight, of the wonder that eclipse brings.
A child's first awe, a scientist's delight,
Shared in an instant, bathed in celestial light.
The sun, a phoenix reborn, reclaims its fiery throne,
But the echo of discovery, forever will be known.
The Great North American Eclipse, a citizen science spree,
A symphony of knowledge, for all the world to see.
Upon the lakes they do swim gliding so effortlessly
These species of graceful waterfowl the largest of anatidae family
In their beautiful pure white plumage with elegant long curved necks
Blunted beaks and big webbed feet living together by water's edge
These magnificent creatures of the waters are a sign of purity and love
Remind us of the blessings in our relationships a gift from heaven above
If all goes well in there pairing they will stay together for rest of their life’s
When they glide upon the waters of our awareness they bring us deep insight
These birds of Mother Nature they’re exquisite and unique
Bearing exotic waves of beauty to our dreams as we do sleep
They swim around in our divine mind adding colours of delight
Encouraging us to spread our wings and take our glorious flight
Courting occurs on rivers and lakes throughout the known world
Whilst they live on plant life tiny fish and scattered bread as well
You might see them duck their heads as they feed upon their foods
But you better beware of their aggression whilst they protect their broods
The elegance of these myterious birds are displayed in a ballet dancer
Dancing into our emotions with their romantic artisticpower
Transforming our souls with delightful moves bringing us into harmony
With a brilliant performance of balance, control and technical flexibility
The beautiful dying swan pours its heart out as death draws near
Greeting this with an exceptional beautiful ending balladeer
Its modulated voice singing the swan-song of death so sweet
This harmonious sound can be heard as its last creative piece
The crown retain the ownership to all unmarked mute swans
A ceremony takes place once a year and lasts for five days long
Swan upping is a tradition dated back to the twelfth century
Markers row up and down the rivers paying tribute to the Queen
In England they’re a protected species and owned by Her Majesty
The wing spans on these wonderful birds can extent to several feet
These sacred aquatic birds male and female cobs and pens
Those little cygnets and swanlings on a swan lake that never ends
© Copyright KC.Leake
8th December 2014
All Rights Reserved
Crimson carnations create chords of casual charm,
Happy hyacinths harmonise in their psychedelic hues,
Bright bubbles of hope in crusading sunset,
Soft sepia smiles sent down from the Shepherd above,
Burnished beams of bright sunrays ballet in between birches,
An emerald euphony of jasper jingles and obsidian operas,
Salmon welkin croons its crescendo as it turns indigo,
The warbling waves wind up in a waltz,
Evening falls softly in various shades of blue,
All's well with the world of woven wonders.
Lines taken from the following poems:
Serenading sunset
Moonstone melodies
Autumn leaves
Fiery sunset
In the shadow of sunlight
Chrysanthemum Hymns
Spring sonata
It started with a blank canvas
The lilt of lilac melodies
Haven of hope
The rehearsals are over and now it’s first night
All worked tirelessly for the audience’s delight
It all flows so smoothly – oh what a relief
A fabulous production of ‘Sunshine on Leith’
The show tells the story of the ups and downs in life
Of Scottish couple Rab and Jean his beautiful wife
Soldiers Ally and Davy return from fighting in war
Can Liz and Yvonne find the love they are looking for?
Great singing and acting, graceful ballet dancing too
The cast and crew worked so hard to bring this to you
With a song in each scene - some left your toes a tapping
Each Act was brilliant and had the audience clapping
18th February 2015
Written as a tribute for the amazing school production I saw on 5th February
Every moment of every day has its beauty…from the dawning of first light…
But today I’d like to concentrate on the beauty of the night.
Darkness has a subtle way of muffling all sound as it drifts down from the heavens…blanketing the ground.
Although there is much beauty to be found in modulation, pitch and tone…
silence possesses a unique and unequaled allure…a beauty all her own.
Looking up at night one quickly discovers a beauty nonexistent in the day…it’s when the moon, the clouds and the stars all come out to play.
The clouds illuminated by the moon take on an inner glow…somersaulting…changing size and shape as across the sky they flow.
I love to watch the moon and stars as from behind the clouds they peek…it’s as if the heavens are participating in a game of hide-and-seek.
The breeze is always invisible as she makes her nightly advance…but you feel her as she passes…and you watch the trees around you dance.
The night awakens the sleeping shadows…telling them it’s time to rise…you see them shake and yawn and stretch…as they wipe the sleep from out heir eyes.
Yes, the more you walk within the night…the more you see her beauty on display…the more you feel you’re a part of her beautiful ballet.
You find yourself stopping…turning around…your pace is deliberate and slow…because there is so much there to see…and you don’t want to miss the show.
Which is why, although I love the beauty of the day…the beauty of the light…I shall also always be enamored…by the beauty of the night.
In late dusks, smothered sighs of pain melt into tomorrow,
When waltzing sounds lift and fall in veiled irrelevance.
Sacred moments are captured in the twilight’s golden yolk of creation,
While crystalline waves of wind ring a farewell to the fate of the day.
A lone dove cuts through the cinnamon clouds,
In a final dance through the heavens' gate, resplendent.
With eternally youthful dreams soaked in golden honey,
It bears its flight, gliding gracefully in an aerial ballet.
How fleetingly life can slip from our grasp
When passion yearns for the gaze of its beloved.
Echoes linger in the dusk, reminders of lost mysteries,
Treasures pilfered from the darkness of oblivion, from the temple of dusty memory.
I stand my vigil as infinity spills across the heavens
And wonder swells the truth within my heart...
The sky catches fire from its dying rays; purposes scatter like ash.
Each rising star is a promise that all that is lost is finally found.
Frozen in a straw stand, I dream with eyes cast towards bleeding horizons,
I see every contour you desired quiver above, convinced there's still room for forgiveness.
The dusk, that poet who writes in colors, turns my weeping into a silent hymn,
For in the silent citadel of the night, we both wander, peeling veil from veil.
Like the dove, I yearn to traverse curtains of golden trails,
To perhaps discover in flight the meaning lost in the turmoil of time.
But wings are lost in the dark outline, when stars light their soft beacons,
And I lie down in the lap of night with your memories cut out, like bread for passing birds.
Dusk overwhelms us with its mystery, just when we wish to see clearer,
And in this interlude, as day capitulates, a yearning stirs and grows,
Under the beam of the last light, your vow resonates, wordless but steadfast,
In the evening song, whispering among the stars, the promise that you will remain, forever.
In the twilight's gentle chime,
The sun's pursuit of clouds allowed,
The canvas painted, red and blue,
Day's grasp dwindles, fading true.
Willow's limbs, in lake's embrace,
No tears for joy's swift race,
Blackbirds, Robins, flight's ballet,
Seek refuge from the night's array.
Seagulls, ducks, and geese convene,
Darkness casts its eerie sheen,
Ducklings' fate, a mother's plight,
In the shadows of impending night.
Cherry, eucalyptus, silhouettes stark,
Eagles perch on branches dark,
Owl claims its post, a sentinel's quest,
As daylight yields to night's bequest.
Sunset sparks thoughts, a vibrant dance,
Lovers see love in twilight's trance,
Lonely souls, dear love depart,
Optimists sense a fresh, hopeful start.