Long Footwork Poems
Long Footwork Poems. Below are the most popular long Footwork by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Footwork poems by poem length and keyword.
while i was passing by
in aisle five
i overheard
“get help”
she happened to glance at me
and by 6:03
i happened to think
what if she said
“get well”
and i don’t know who
and i wasn’t there
but i know
when i’ve heard it before
if it wasn’t condescendingly
had one pound of empathy
i would’ve been
more likely
we all have days
that get swept in the haze
of just trying to stay alive
2 steps forward, 1 step back
but it feels like rewinding 5
after drawing a circle or two
you wish you didn’t need to be doing footwork your whole life
it’s like a birthday balloon
in a crowded room
it’s all up in the air
the balloon falls down
you look around
and wonder if you all have circles there
in the clouds
but with the crowd
sometimes you hear in the way they speak
the toughened clay
they molded that day
to prevent from appearing weak
you feel the way it sounded
they’re trying to keep it grounded
you see the smoothness of their rock
because they’re silently wearing the erosion
it took for them
to become that soft
Faith Without Work
Things will fit better
if you first bother
to measure.
Follow through
on what you ask
God to do.
I do not blame
God who has
blessed you with
a brain
insight will
make it plain.
Progress
requires care
A little footwork.
"Elbow Grease".
Should always
accompany
your prayers.
If your creator
seems distant
he is waiting
for you to put
some "motion"
behind your
E-motions..
Go and become
a steward
of your own
blessings.
what you ask
God to put
into motion,
"claim"
You know all that
"faith"
and no work....
and you
Not budging,
while waiting on
"change".
Click a tee, click a tee, click a tee click,
Flick a dee, fick a dee, fick a dee, flick,
I do all of this to attract you my dear,
To lose you is my only fear,
I’ll sing you my song, tra la la, tra la la,
But I have many ways to impress you.
Spring is in the air, and I’m at my best,
Look at my red ruffled feathers on my chest,
My irresistible colorful plumage you won’t resist,
I want to show off to you, please watch me I insist.
I do not mind that you look quite dowdy
That is why we males are the dancing rowdy
Watch me swing from a tree my love
Notice my dangling dazzling feathers from high above
As I tumble down through the sky towards you,
Do you want to watch me whilst I run over water,
Doobey doobey doobey da, do doobey da do.
I have prepared many a nest for you, please
Choose one be my mate, don’t tease,
This one I’ve swept the garden clean with a twig,
Have decorated it with pebbles and flowers,
I’ve spent many hours
And I’ve built the nest with an exquisite view
While you lie with our chicks watching the blue
Sky, now I will dance for you
You can dance with me if you want,
As we bond, follow my fancy footwork when we slide
And definitely glide
Along a branch, and maybe by now you might.
Think I’m right
There, you have shown me I’m the one,
Agile, handsome, colorful and trim
And you are so pretty and slim,
Come, let’s enter our love nest,
With an avid zest.
Chirp a do, chirp a do, chirp a do, do!
Ray Richardson was known as a fighter,
and a big hit amongst the boxing fans,
though few of them ever called him by name,
his sobriquet in the ring was ‘Steel Hands,’
like Forman, Wilder, he had power,
his fights rarely lasted a quarter hour.
Now Steel Hands Richardson held a title,
which brought him big money, and big challenge,
he’d knocked down six men who tried to take it,
and believed he could handle the balance,
the next man in the ring was ‘Bandit’ McGill,
a slippery boxer, trained to great skill.
Steel Hands was not that concerned with his foe
when he stepped through the ropes into the ring,
he figured it would be an easy bout,
the flag was waved, the singer did their thing.
Finally, they rang the opening bell,
and Steel Hands came out to give the man hell.
But the speed of his foe stymied his blows,
oh, how McGill could duck shots, bob and weave,
then slip away quick with fancy footwork,
how the man moved Ray just couldn’t believe,
his hard punches would hit nothing but air,
then two jabs would come back as he stood there.
His corner shouted he was losing rounds,
before he knew it six had slipped away,
to loose the title to such a fighter…
the more thought of it filled Steel Hands with rage,
to think that another could be the best
was not something to which he’d ever attest!
When he got back up for the seventh round,
he noticed McGill was starting to tire,
but even worn out, his jabs kept coming,
not that hard, but scored points rapid fire,
but Ray would not accept tossing the thing,
and used his long legs to cut off the ring.
In the ninth round he saw his opening,
cornered McGill, landed a body shot,
with his man stunned, Steel Hands threw a hard right,
putting all his strength in a blow up top,
it dropped the bandit, right flush with his jaw,
he would not get back up, everyone saw...
CONTINUES IN PART II.
With speedy, gutsy ease
her Irish father rolls up the front room rug
Gaelic music lathers the air in merriment
Nelligen at 8, composed
snags our attention
in hard shoe clicking
her rapid, intricate footwork
its drumming effect, a heart pulsating
Nell's rigid torso
that trails upward to white-blond hair
bouncing,
catching light like weightless feathers
Small feet in black hard shoes
tapping
from toes to heels
Image fixed in place like her pale rose-bud skin
Up against the wall, I mimic her movements
My feet a tangled jigsaw
She laughs, kisses my cheek, tousles my hair
like tufts of grass
At 9, I want to go to her, to cradle her state of grace
for however long we are children
The suddenness of age frames our winter
A peer backwards through a series of lenses
to stitched moments that slide in memory
foot taps through our rooms
I know full well that I am responsible for my own mis-steps
for sitting out her dances
for never solving most puzzles
even when I pull back
from now
Poem composed: June 13, 2021
We are not familiar –
we are city dwellers.
We have passed each other
on crowded city streets.
Proud yellows protruding
through concrete cracks.
I have danced with “lady slippers”
in a shaded cluster of trees –
marveled at their footwork,
I have cheered the dandelion,
that tenacious little terror,
for its unrelenting determination
to survive our mindless hate.
Small purple bells hang -
silent chimes adrift on
winnowing winds.
Bright red, the spiral twirl
of hybrid wanderers,
bred of pollinations need.
White buds of frostily
exhaled “babies breath”
lay low against the shrubs.
So I walk the city,
untamed gardens,
each earthy patch a home
where beauty may take root,
smile at passersby.
I thank the fickle winds of fate
for taunting the towering
shade makers, planting
each colored sun drop
amid the gray.
We are not “familiar”
we are city dwellers.
John G. Lawless
4/16/2016
Aerial dribs and drabs, a sidewalk canvas
As a toddler chases bubbles her mother blows
from confectionary soap,
Fluttering fluidity in spring air
Child's laugh, a mosaic of innocence, discovery and glee
Her run after each globe, unsteady, twisted gravity
Her footwork shifts in warfare wobble, no sinkhole falling
Her reach to pop each bubble, circus kerfuffle, giddy,
giggles that swing like a trapeze artist,
while a mother retrieves
unexpected memory
shards of recovery
that coat a guarded self
Neverland jester, a child's guileless glow,
routing air baubles
unconstrained by space,
untethered from fear,
avoiding a fall off the planet
to limited mobility
For sometimes life's march
doesn't start on time
Poem revised: April 19, 2021
The Jester tumbled in
with his fancy footwork
into the castle's great hall,
raising his arms, waving to all.
He's dressed from head to toe
in humorous multi-coloured attire
and red pointed shoes.
Tied around his painted clown face,
a funny pointed red ball hat with silver bells,
ringing as he pranced.
In his hand a square bird that doesn't eat
and all it does is tweet, tweet, tweets.
His fans stand up clapping their hands,
yelling with loud cheers;
a bunch of local yokels full of ale and beer.
Then, someone calls his name in a chant,
“Jester, Jester, Jester!”
They all join in.
The Jester said,
“Stand up and place the outcome of the future in my hands.”
As the minstrel's play, “This Land is Ours.”
Poor fools didn't understand.
“Let's raise the mortal alarms,
and let me wear the crown.
I promise to build a great wall
and keep all the clowns out of town."
With all the charm he could muster
for a roaring storm,
he leaps making promises he never keeps.
He dances and prances
with a pinch and a grab to their tender form.
“Nobody but I, deserve the crown
because I’m the best.
I’ll make everyone grovel
down on their knees
and have them all kiss my royal gown.
If I can't cut the mustard
and spread my seed,
underneath a heap, take heed.
I'll fire anyone that stands in my way
and replace with my family and friends in royal seats,
to accomplish all off my promised feats.
Be warned, I am here to stay."
8/10/2017
Not for the contest
As the dancer elegantly performs
This oldest classical dance heritage of India
The Bharatanatyam: A Divine dance art form,
The grace and beauty of the art,
Is enhanced by movement, mime and music.
The facial expressions and gestures of the dancer,
Her footwork and the costume,
Blend together with its intricacies to create
Delicate moves of non-verbal communication,
Through this most sophisticated art,
Initially a highly spiritual dance form,
Performed in Hindu temples of South India,
Over time, moved from temples to theatres.
The dancer uses the language of gestures
When her emotions expressing various moods
Are gracefully enacted with her hands and body,
Telling a story of love and longing,
Or of a battle between good and evil,
As the musicians envelope her with
Rhythmic musical notes and tones
That set the appropriate mood for the story.
Every action of the performer of this art,
Is a form of dialogue without words
With one's own self, with the world,
And with the Universal Omniscient force that governs us,
In a process of self-exploration and self-realization.
When all these aspects unite in harmony
And as the dancer concludes her performance
A sense of peace and contentment,
And an upliftment of spiritual consciousness
Is illuminated in the minds of
Of both the dancer and the audience.
Date: 01/06/2021
Submitted for: Podium Placing Promise (5) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Note:
Bharathanatyam: This is a major form of traditional Indian classical dance, specially originated in South India. Bharatanatyam is the oldest classical dance tradition in India. The compond word 'Bharatanatyam' signifies a dance form that harmoniously expresses emotions, music, and rhythm.
Argentina's son, a lineage to immigrants
shaped by boyhood aspirations
diminutive left foot striker
taunted "dwarf" in childhood
his growth hormone deficiency
overcome through meds and workouts
a counter to foes physically imposing
Messi's daily slog of skills
agility and balance
slow grind of mastery to mesh the skills to speed
on the football field, Messi dribbles through opponents
pivots round defenders, takes an opposite direction
accelerates
de-accelerates
takes stock of field positions
awareness like a lordly hawk that calculates its prey
a kick triggered whittles through the air
the ball's stinging centre,
flight controlled
at a goal keeper spiralling to the ground
this FIFA World Cup champion
devout in faith
celebrates goals by a gaze upward
a pointed hand to the heavens
another field of his embracing
790 - Messi's career goals for Barcelona clubs and
Argentinean glory
football awards that roll on like credits on a movie screen
on field moves that burrow into memory
through the entanglement of limbs
Messi's footwork, like a dancer's gift
his sprints to fill the field with unheeding power
midst the bulging roar of fans
a homage to glorify the footballer
before he fades
to legend
Poem written January 4, 2023