Long Ballroom Poems
Long Ballroom Poems. Below are the most popular long Ballroom by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ballroom poems by poem length and keyword.
Friendly, charming and loving describe my Dad well.
A man of integrity and pride, I knew I could trust him.
Tennis player extraordinaire, ballroom dancer, history and movie buff,
He was all these and more, so much more.
Even so he had his flaws, but he loved his children.
Restoring old photos and photography were his trade;
Solitude and quiet were what he craved: he was a gentle soul.
Dogs were his best friends: he rescued many, kept a few and they
adored him.
A day in June, Two thousand thirteen, he left this earth and me.
Years have passed and I still miss his hugs.
5/16/2021
For L. Milton Hankins A Tribute to Father's contest
GOLDEN SHOVEL
I never thought that I would BE
The one she chose. I really did NOT
Dream that, when we reached THE
Last remaining waltz, I’d be the FIRST
She’d come to, passing all the others BY.
The one girl in the ballroom WHOM
I’d never dare approach. For me THE
Feeling of rejection’s nothing NEW.
But the feeling of rejection IS
As she approached I TRIED
Not to blush bright red; NOR
Would I stammer “Y.y.yes”. And YET
I did them both. But still THE
Dear girl smiled and I was in her arms at LAST.
And, when we swayed together TO
The strains of Strauss, she LAY
Her head upon my shoulder as THE
Lighting dimmed. And all my OLD
Uncertainties were cast ASIDE
Inspired by “An Essay on Criticism”
By Alexander Pope
COAT OF ARMS
Last night I couldn't sleep,for thinking only you...
As I wrapped in warm embrace, your spirit tinted blue
To oust away thine pangs, in hopes to see thee smile...
I'll yoke ye 'pon my shoulders, to carry through this mile
To trade your tears of sorrow, and see them shed in joy...
I'd jest for thine amusement, and be your favorite toy
For thine malady been expelled, I'd invoke it banished 'way...
Taking it 'pon mine self, so you've strength to seize th' day
Though I'm not an king, nor prince 'pon ivory steed...
Th' possessions I've procured here, are thine if felt th' need
I'll sweep thee off thy feet, if not familiar with th' waltz...
To breathe ye 'cross th' ballroom, as an feather floating 'loft
Mark mine words I state here, and hold me to their true...
I'll prove I 'steem thee precious, as unfeigned I surely do
Just promise me one thing, that next time when your down...
You'll wear these words as armor, 'til I mend thy broken crown
?Randall ('~A~')zaza Martin
a.k.a. "Thunderwolf'69" ??????
I would observe you, staring out beautiful windows
The pale light of the snow reflecting on your loveliness
I could only admire you from afar
A chance encounter in the ballroom, you looked so sad
I asked you to dance, a shy smile and you took my hand
our love grew over time, deep as the roots of roses in the garden
A time to remember, cold and grey through beautiful windows
Hearts would grow heavy as your upper class was not accessible to me
I of working-class stock, could not provide wealth but my heart was true
Others of fine royalty offered riches of everything but the heart
You had no choice, your family would not have me, I could not have you
So I watched you again, from beautiful windows as the snow fell
The glimmer of warm lights outside in the cold, I felt them
Your image in the window stays close to my heart
That beautiful house, looking at its windows, no light does shine
I look at them still, your grace long gone, a memory now
I walk alone thinking of those beautiful windows, lost in remembrance
twirling our skirts
like blossoming flowers
virgins all in synch
a soul center of the universe
the corolla balanced in floor length hoop
hidden mysteries beneath the skirt
dizzy as my life spins out of control
my many suitors kissing stars on my hands
trying to penetrate time and space
splashes of color in peach, spring green, pink
spinning hopelessly
out of control
first ecstatic romp across the ballroom floor
leaves me breathless panting
forevermore the center of his universe
in another time
before our stars hit the earth
Observing all, the fly upon the wall,
Sees politicians trip before the fall.
They scheme and whisper, planning their ascent,
On sticky webs of power, time is spent.
It cleans its legs upon the ‘summit’ food,
And buzzes secrets, were it understood.
It watches spouses lie, then softly creep,
While promises are cheap, as kept words sleep.
They rise to the top where there are no ends,
Soon out of sigh, with what they store depends.
The fly on the wall, a tiny, silent judge,
Converging human spirit that won’t budge.
For all their pomp and all their grand affairs,
They’re merely mammals with their silly airs.
One tries to swat it with a mighty whack,
But misses every time, the clumsy hack.
The fly lives on, its life of two days grand,
To watch the finest follies of the land.
For human drama, to its beady eye,
Is just a pile of rot beneath the sky.
A fly upon the plaster sits and waits,
To see which fool will seal his sorry fates.
He watches scandals, secrets, tears, and strife,
The endless, pointless drama that is life.
He buzzes softly, hearing every word,
A tiny, winged, satirical absurd.
He sees the lies in every human heart,
And plays his quiet, observant, tiny part.
This world is just a stage, a fleeting play,
He’ll watch you falter, then he’ll fly away.
A fly upon the pristine ballroom wall,
Obsessed with the mechanics of the fall.
He judges every waltz and every twirl,
A critic in a world of social whirl.
Observing secrets from his perch up high,
He files reports on who has told a lie.
He scoffs at all the human pomp and grace,
And wipes his tiny feet upon their space.
Convinced that he’s the master of the room,
He buzzes softly in perpetual gloom.
Blue faded.
The same horizon, the same clouds
changed by brushes from an impressionist painter.
The lavender sky blushes
and the crest of the cheery trees beams
as the wind hums, enticing belated bumblebees.
Twigs rattle waking a little shepherdess bellow.
Amber eyes browse the dusky glen.
She whistles, summoning her hound
and ties her undulating hair with a butterfly.
She engenders a ballroom below the tree’s canopy.
and abandons her boot, her cap, her apparel.
A blushful wind sews a new dress with dead leaves.
She tiptoes on the top of the grass blades
and two small primroses flourish on her face
as the tender breeze takes a rhyme from her lips.
The tangling grass tickles her feet
and a perishing sunray slips between the leaves
to reach her cheeks.
She hoovers free and twirls making herself a target
for distracted bowmen…
.. her dog barks and she eyes down
to a basket with four remaining heart-shaped berries.
Night arrives and starlight precipitates.
The little shepherdess greets the drops of rain with a spin.
Listen, listen to the lingering melody.
What the Butler Heard
Extract from a memoir
Lord Illustrious Penge of Lampwicker Hall,
Welcomed local Toffs, to his Name-Dropper ball.
Noses upturned with a touch of conceit,
Hob-Knobbing with gentry and gentleman elite.
Colonel recalled, his luncheon with Churchill,
Discussing backbenchers and a new Commons bill.
Shooting down Stukas, Captains claim to fame
“We had no choice Sir, Hitler started the game”
Lady Bell and I, champion ballroom dance,
After meeting Fred Astaire, purely by chance.
I worked with Crosby, taught him to Croon,
Just as well really, he couldn’t sing in tune.
Rupert went to school with Dame Vera Lynn,
and starred in a war film with Anthony Quinn.
Mortenson served, in old Atlee’s Cabinet,
Roberta was a Barrister when they first met.
Bradman hit this Six, into the members stand,
Luckily, I caught it, stretching out one hand.
I got a hole in one, on the sixth at Upper Plumb,
Sir Monty looked aghast, utterly struck dumb.
Sent my son to Eton, toughen him up a tad,
Hopefully play at Flanker, just like my old Dad.
Got myself a Cadi’, drives like a dream,
Shiny sleek and black, trim of vintage cream.
Gielgud and Guinness, met me at the Royal,
A script for their new play, Rich Man & Toil.
Later with QE2, after receiving my MBE,
She asked my opinion, of the shows on BBC.
I stayed at base camp, nursing a busted leg,
Hilary splinted it up, with rope and spare tent peg.
Spent some time in Burma, till the Japs came in,
Came home to Blighty, temper wearing thin.
I was at the Oval when Hutton hit 364,
England posted 903, a record breaking score.
In service with his lordship, so many stories,
Serving champagne to upper class Tories.
Tales might be true, just a little overstated,
Like the one that got away, typically inflated.
They were rather pompous, but often kind,
Especially the ones, left with half a mind.
Get me a stiff one Walters, Champers is gassy,
Just Lords way, sounding snob and brassy.
Then I won the football pools,
Bought my wife a gem,
So now I am a gentleman,
Just like the rest of them.
Disco Music
Strobe light looks like moon-sun.
Halo lights of red, blue, yellow, green.
He wears classic Saturday Night Fever white.
She has a white flower in her hair,
head and hips swivel;
one-strapped red dress.
He points with hands over head.
Ballroom floor bittersweet-blue.
Celebration of disco music.
I was dressed in strapless purple.
Burned my bra.
This stamp doesn’t nearly catch
the falderal - not the nasal and falsetto
of the Bee Gees, nor the confident swagger
of Tony Manero. I will survive, my motto.
The couple on this stamp look too happy,
too peppy, maybe preppy, almost ‘50’s.
I remember the crowds, the loudness,
the vulnerability, the period; that Mom
had me ask Dad for money to go.
They let me. Strobe light shadows
of chiaroscuro amidst flashy night.
The stamp is too clean cut.
An enchanting little royal princess,
In her beautiful red velvet dress embroidered with gold trim,
Forming designs of vines full of leaves mistletoe,
She wears her red patent shoes with gold buckles to match her dress,
A red velvet ribbon weaved in her long braided ebony black shiny hair
Bound in an elegant bow at the end
Listening to music of The Kaiser-Walzer in her mind
Waltzing like a blossom in the breeze
To the heavenly music with her imaginary friend in the Ballroom of the castle
Around the dance floor, she moves in delight to the tempo,
With slow glides and turns
Graceful, elegant long flowing movement that she never grows tired of
With her imaginary friend to the music of Kaiser-Walzer
11/23/2014