Long Dancer Poems
Long Dancer Poems. Below are the most popular long Dancer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dancer poems by poem length and keyword.
When she’s sick I’m so in trouble
Rocks my world, bursts my bubble,
All at once my head is spinning,
Forehead aching, hair fast thinning.
I’m not trained to handle chores,
Clean the house, go to stores,
Cook the meals, feed the kids,
My existence on the skids.
Give me patience, show me how
She won’t quickly disavow
This poor man she claimed to love
And not give him one huge shove.
I’ll do better, I’ll learn fast,
Even try to make it last,
Wash the sheets, make the bed,
Just the thought fills me with dread.
Shoulders back, chin protruding,
Smile so wide, no more brooding,
‘Yes, My Dear’ the sure answer,
Float on air like a tap dancer.
Read her cues as if an actor
Whatever challenge not a factor,
Learn each job just like a pro,
Then recount it blow by blow.
I adore this girl so much,
There’s truly nothing I won’t touch,
Clean or fix around the house
To be that perfect loving spouse.
But God I pray with all my soul
That soon you make her fully whole,
Please start now and make it fast
As for sure I won’t long last.
a girl - a word picking storyteller, a writer of dripping emotions
a poet - of penning poems of sadness, of nature and of my life
a sketcher - of nature, of birds, of swaying flowers and trees
a painter - with hope that practice, practice will improve my skill
a photographer - cannot resist zooming in on all things I find
a spiritual - ethereal, unworldly, fragile girl, unique, and unforgettable
a collector - of vintage or anything old like jewelry, dishes and books
a daughter - mom and dad, are you watching me from above?
a granddaughter - grandma you said write it and I never stopped
a mother - to a baby boy who never saw the blue azure sky
a wife - to a name engraved in stone, a love death cannot destroy
a sister - family is everything, and I press them close to my heart
a friend - devoted, in me you will find loyalty, trust and love
a gardener - from seedlings, to plants, to my tiny garden of bright
a dancer - of jazz, hip hop, zumba, and twirling and whirling to music
a survivor - how many times have I crawled out of dark pits of doom?
a thinker - a solitary, introvert, who goes deep within on purpose
a believer - in meditation, in faith and hope and kindness
a seeker - of the present and the future (Is there a Heaven?)
a weeper - of the past, the joy, the sorrow, the decay, the memories
a pet owner - I remember each one, each gift from God a treasure given
a worrier - that at the end of time, of my poetry will be tattered pages
a resident - of beautiful Canada, a vast land of water, forests and life
In my poems I paint pictures with words,
and then, let them fly away birds . . . .
___________________________
April 28, 2020
Poetry/List/I am,
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1247-204-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, I am, A list Bio
sponsor, Andrea Dietrich
First Place
it was not the creaking door that scared me so,
not the nightly thunder and that lonely crow,
what gave me shivers was jingle of anklets,
as I hid deep under cover of blankets,
they passed me by across daddy’s bedroom door,
like someone was pacing the grand marble floor!
perhaps ghost of a dancer who comes to haunt?
or was it a prank, played by my naughty aunt?
I talked to my mother to share my night fears,
she kissed me on my forehead and wiped my tears,
that night we sprayed the floor with washing liquid,
waited in my room, behind door mother hid,
past midnight then no jingling anklets were heard,
father heard the story and thought it absurd!
problem was solved when we saw Roosevelt!
the thieving neighbours cat had jingles on belt!
2nd Placement
Written 14/10/2021
Something Spooky poetry contest
Tania Kitchin sponsored
11 syllables each line!
There is a probable cause.
For me, I give myself no pause.
Just like a dancer wants applause.
I tell myself "just because!"
I fail to eat, sleep or drink.
Then ponder,why I cannot think.
I feel anything but in the pink.
I just want to put my head in a sink.
I really do get very down
When trying to be the Poet-Clown
I do get morose and down
Tis no way to shine as a crown
There is nothing wrong with using rhyme!
Some don't like it but rhyme for centuries
is not a crime.
It happens to be a cherished, favorite friend
of mine!
I happen to think in rhyme, most all the time.
Some like excellent itsy-bitsy poems.
They are sweet but not my home.
In poetic forms, I do love the roam.
As if running with bare feet, in the fresh sea foam.
There are poems of mine, as children to me,
And oh, when they are ignored, I do see!
I cry to them, to wait for me.
Such is my poetic, daily, eternity!
August 25, 2020
6pm PST
The Poetess......
Suffered in angst and deep loneliness,
As her Jasmine poetry was anew and just growing.
“What good are my poems regarding truthfulness
or honesty?
Against seas of deceitful poems, puff-pretty, bright
glowing?”
The sweet,pre-spring rains came and gave not a
whisp of an answer.
Her soul and stomach did crave some reprise.
“No, no, rest, dear poetess, “words whispered
came in the form of a ballet dancer.
Then..what to do, she most freely wept?
“Stop looking for readers of my poems?”
Ah, a wondrous secret being kept?
“Stop, stop”, the laughing dancer said.
“Each poem you wrote once slept in
the soft bed of your heart.”
“Let it begone, and like a newborn butterfly...
alight with freedom and depart.”
3-15-2022
A man with impeccable charm, sophistication and grace,
Fred Astaire was at once both marvelous and enchanting
As the twentieth century’s greatest dancer and master artist.
He made his sublime dancing (“hoofing”) seem effortless.
Capturing the American spirit with both panache and verve
Fred Astaire glided across some quite wonderful movie sets:
Top Hat (1935), Swing Time (1936), Shall We Dance (1937)
Done magnificently—all harken back to a different America.
This America tho’ more old fashioned was one of “can-do”
And boasted a gutsy bravado even in times great hardship.
Fred Astaire with others was a sturdy star symbol of the then
Greatest Generation that helped bring peace to a war torn world.
Fred Astaire was part of this Greatest Generation entertaining
Packed audiences and dazzling them with steps of joy and perfection.
Tho’ now gone Astaire’s past accomplishments serve as a prologue
For new generations to come and to seize opportunities for greatness.
Where are you Fred Astaire?
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 2, 2014)
It was her poise and grace
that set her apart;
a gentle rhythmic walk.
Soft velvet tones of
gracefulness as she talked.
Her voice danced as she spoke.
Her eyes glistened in animated
interest as she listened,
focused, undeviating from
the intense conversation
she was involved in.
Expressive, long-fingered hands.
Gesticulating with the ebb
and flow of torrid words.
Stopping only to smooth a
straying hair back to perfection.
Interjection of soft salsa
verbal rocking, picking up
the tempo to tangoed crescendo,
waltzing in three time,
quick stepping to conversational conclusion.
As she stood to leave,
long legs unravelled, rising
to pose in balletic stance,
her bar a chair back, a smile,
a graceful backward glance....
Drifting on a cloud of chiffon
she floats away. Willowy limbs
carrying her noiselessly,
stunning her audience as heads
all crane to admire her as she leaves.
Always a dancer. Her life her stage.
Carefully choreographed.
Her earthly progress mapped
in song and dance on every page
of score and libretto....
Disciplined.
Majestic movement from head
to tiny tapped toe.
Always a dancer.
Applaud her as she goes.
All is silent, all is still
No one around to see the thrill;
Small, small light
A shadow moves
The petals move, start to sing
Wind picks up, nature's music starts
Starting at point base, feeling in the heart
Born to feel, always live the same
Never let the soul ever be tame;
Starting to move, step by step
Slowly at first, but fast at last;
Keeping in tune to the sound of the heart
Finishes, beautiful spin; tidy dancer starts off again;
A silent applause, for no one to hear
A feeling of gratitude from those who are near;
Still no one around, absolutely no sound
But a smile suddenly creeps while around everything sleeps.
The heart always goes what the eye always shows
Never give up that feeling you hold....
In Arabian singsong, the dancer began
Searching for tempo in desert sands
Torso twisting and turning to the rhythm of time
With a toss of her head and a shake of her mane
Tambourines rang, spectators clapped
the dancer transformed, shot into his lap
Wriggling her belly and lighting his fire
she struggled to control her desire…
… At the end of the night, slumped over, frail, spent
too many years barely paying the rent
I am....
An Ashanti warrior A Bantu dancer
I am a Yoruba royal clothed in my Asooke
Dancing Adowa and kpalogo to tunes from wulomei and masekela
I am proud Masai
Standing around manyattas,
Jumping to melodies from the olaranyani
Eunoto is here and today I dance in front my peers in transition into a senior warrior
Oh how sweet the African rhythms
Imprudently lifting and soul soothing
Sisala sebrew on Akan drums
Highlife explorations unending on opus 1.
I am an Ewe woman
From the lineage of Nerfetiti
And a great great ....grand daughter of Nandi
My Gèle will never fall off
My Dashiki will never fade out
I am a Fulani herdsman
Wandering the Sahel plains of Africa
Along with a fellow Malinke brother
Who speaks fluent igbo and today we revisit our roots in Nok
I’m from Gao
320 km east-southeast of Timbuktu.
A descendant of Sonni Ali ,
Reciting the epic of Sundiata with intertwining soothing kora melodies from Kandia Kouyate
Oh how dazzling the African landscape
And glorious it's Heritage
Such rekindling and Homeric folklores
And a boundless diverse cultures
I am the African dream
mother's only son my father’s only daughter
I'm the incantations of royal fetish and message behind the talking drum
I am the African noble
Free from identity torment
I know of my glorious past and my colourful future
My city will bleed no more
Never again will i be a wanderer
I know my culture
And my alluring language
Ah how powerful the African names
Araba Termytorphe and Ifedayo chant in unity
Diallo Sissoko and Achiaa bestow serenity
Mbali and Lamisi elegantly wore their kente
Tonight we dance to tunes from the kete
For Yaa Asantewaa never gave up the fight
So we lift our hearts with emancipated minds
To reach new heights ! O’ Nana Nyame,
May you forever guide us with your light .