Long Leotard Poems
Long Leotard Poems. Below are the most popular long Leotard by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leotard poems by poem length and keyword.
Planned a pretty picnic, yet didn’t predict
Pigs begged - please eat us
Allocated table had laid out a feisty feast
Mince never been seen since
Rolled in crackling casing, their fatty flesh
Confused cuttings, garnish
New sensations buzzed about, fly nuisance
Neurons zoomed zealously
Hogs hounded by horrifying hallucinations
Leotard clad dancer retarded
Twisted vertebrae a violation, tongue flicks
Countdown to lard liquidation
Psilocybin sunny yellow yolk binds reason
Lumen shed no light of lantern
Mazatec ritual melted musk pink muscles
Slow motion mushroom sprawl
Mummified corpses crept out of deep crypt
Afternoon amber amplified fate
Fast forward formula filter, little pigs fiction
Scramble like crabs in a bucket
Baked brick brains, barbecued by voodoo
Vulgar misogyny bursts, a bulb
Blooms dubious blue in Voyria voyage void
Wolf at their door signals doom
Serpent slithered through halved heart rates
Shot of short sighted reaction
Spastic synapses jerk erratic, far stargazing
Scatter, decant into galaxy icy
Frozen bones form a crucifix in farmer’ stall
Fable of table where food served
Sustenance, except the hex that halted them
Bode their badges vanish in ash
21st May
A tatterdemalion
Demonstrates haste
has a bad taste
Homeless make tracks
Unashamed, I stay
WAITING FOR THE MUSIC TO PLAY*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
she’s poised on her tiny stage
waiting for the music to play
she wears a pink leotard and white satin tutu bordered with lace
waiting for the music to play
she stands en pointe in perfect form
waiting for the music to play
she is perfectly still on her shapely, porcelain legs
waiting for the music to play
she looks around never moving her head
waiting for the music to play
she sees her perfect body and slender lines in the stage mirror
waiting for the music to play
she is a beauty with delicate, alabaster skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair
waiting for the music to play
she yearns to twirl around with style and grace
waiting for the music to play
she patiently bides her time, her legs never quivering
waiting for the music to play
she dreams of her future, reflects on her past
waiting for the music to play
she’s eternally destined to remain on her toes
waiting for the music to play
she cries a single tear letting it stream down her face
hoping someone will turn the key
*Note: I originally published this poem on Poetry Soup on June 8, 2025, then deleted it. (poetrysoup.com/poem/waiting_for_the_music_to_play_1737655). This is my original poem.
Inner child’s state of rebellion
Forced to endure ballet class
At heart I am complete hellion
Pirouette ended flat on my ass.
Reluctantly wear pink leotard
Scrapped back hair into bun
Out of my depth this is hard
Seems like mother has won.
Competitions are nightmare
Leotard swapped for white tutu
Three judges blank eyes stare
Feet frozen to floor like glue.
Real desire my secret dream
Hold it close to soft young self
Like to be in warm smelly stable
Happily grooming best friend Elf.
Your Inner Child
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
By
Chantelle Anne Cooke
01-09-2021
I’m a Master of the universe
I fly from star to star
If you catch a glimpse of me
You might think I’m bizarre
I fly around in my cape
Hoping that you’ll see
Could it be!
I’m superman or even Hercules?
I put things right, when they're wrong
So girls you mustn’t stare
Even when my flights are long
I still have time to share
I saw a cat stuck up a tree
So I came to its rescue
Now I’ve torn my leotard
And you can see right through
I’m the one who fights for justice
Loyal, great and true
If you call my name aloud
Then, I’ll fly straight to you
One day whilst I was flying
I saw my bride to be
As I turned to shout hello
I flew into a tree
My boots are really shinny
And my thinking super sharp
I move so quick, I’m rather slick
And boy, I look the part
The trouble is I fell in love
And put away my cape
Now I find, she’s not my kind
So, I need another date
I tried to get my power back
And began to flee
but as I jumped, from the cliff
My flying lacked you see!
I hit the ground with a mighty thud
And hurt my pride and joy
Now I've given up this caper
Because it won't deploy
© Copyright 18th August 2013
K.C.Leake
All Rights Reserved
Hair straightened,
A slick back bun,
Each follicle - has a part to play,
Silence -
Not one hair out of place,
If they were she would be called a disgrace
Makeup done -
To perfection,
Before she performs,
She will face inspection,
The other girls with skin so fair,
Don’t have to deal with treatment so unfair,
But the girl with dark skin -
Knew she would never win,
For they were very critical of her blackness
Her body,
Tightly squeezed into -
A leotard two sizes, too small,
And a tutu, that swallows her whole,
They gave it to her,
Because they said that her thighs jiggle,
And that for her age it was unnatural,
She was a black girl,
And all the other girls were skin and bones,
It’s not her fault she looks ‘grown’
She couldn’t complain otherwise they would label her non compliant
This all happened before her performance,
And, yet she outperformed all the white girls,
And just like her skin - her medal reflected gold
Le Cirque Bleu
The spotlight is aglow through the gloam
The light an indigo ink modifying color
She swings her body with agility thrusting backwards
upside down, with unseen wings,
an acrobat aerials amid the roar
She looks pretty with her fan in one hand,
long tresses flowing loosely
A circus horse made of jade below
makes eye contact and an interconnection
Without movement they are in an eternal trance,
In the deep dark yonder the golden helio appears
Fiddle and banjo play for the opening adagios act La Nouba
Her leotard tightly invokes, red with flower imprints
Statuesque, still in time showing off her physique
and impressing spectators from below the fliers' pedestal
From above the nets, with ease, she imagines a
world where gravity defies, and animals and objects fly
Flights of fancy within the flying trapeze
flights of fancy an indigo trapeze ~ from above jade nets, an ease
an inner conflict dust brew
within this scribe, who offers ye to chew
(like sweet treats metaphorically) thee do
tee incumbent, when Doomsday clock
counts down minutes few
according Al Gore rhythm
unstoppably ticking,
when life gets turned to global goo
tenderized viz Doctor Zeus
if not Horton Hears Hoo
then most definitely The Lorax
(couching urgent morals underscored
by satellite photographs
showing melting icecaps or igloos,
which planetary sos, sans in extremis
requires joint effort of Gentile and Jew,
plus every other sectarian credo,
dogma, ethos...knew
clear family, and whatnot
to become linkedin with Linda Loo
yes, we moost not forget
Old McDonald with his moo
moo there bovine creatures
agedly hobbling along, or new
lee born, cuz juiced one day
per three hundred and sixty five
(six with leap year -
to appease ghost oh Rachel Carson
imagine dragons festooned leotard
with brand name Oroblu)
or poor ole Whinny The Pooh
eternally stuck in Rabbit's
hole sum Hutch as a queue
doth loosely form dreaming up and rue
mien hating solution
(burning the midnight oil) true
lee trying to remedy plight
of said bear character,
perhaps unstated message being woo
king in tandem solutions to resolve
wretched condition of world wide web
possible by bridging differences
between me and you, and you, and you...
~Jules~
(Free Verse)
Jules was a French circus performer who lived a long time ago
He performed the first mid-air summersault in the year 1859
Thus at the tender age of twenty-one he became known all over the world as the
"Daring young man on the flying trapeze" and that for him was just fine!
He love the circus life but more than anything he enjoyed to perform
Doing summersaults was one of the greatest achievements that he did
But it seems that every time that he went to perform up there in mid-air
He thought that the clothes he wore to perform with was truly not good
What to wear during his performances was all the time with him in his mind
After a while soon enough he came out with the right answer to all of his care
He invented for himself a close-fitting one piece suit that he could wear so well
Something that he could wear comfortably all the time when he performed up there
Today acrobats and dancers of all ages still wear it and this is history a true fact
And still we called it a "Leotard" too and this hasn't changed can you believe it
This is in honor for the one who invented it more for more than a whole century ago
"Jules Leotard" that's his name, "The daring young man on the flying trapeze! And that's it.
That's a fact!
Dorian Petersen Potter
ladydp2000
copyright@2006
January,02,2015
Shebang Squirrel was the fastest most frolicking squirrel in the yard.
She could outrun pitchforks, farmers, and toddler in leotard.
Her reputation soon came to the attention of the Squirrel Queen.
Who watched her gathering skills, and saw she was never mean.
Shebang Squirrel shared her pile with the entire squirrel town.
She was generous, and polite, and enjoyed hanging upside down.
She could take a bird feeder apart with one paw behind her back.
For every squirrel quality, Shebang surely had a terrific knack.
One day Shebang was invited to the palace high up in the oak.
At first she thought this must be a weird, cousin Lim kind of joke.
Lim assured her he had no ideas at all what this summons could mean.
She fluffed her tail, and picked up a walnut to take to Squirrel Queen.
You share your stash with the commoners, the Queen said right away.
Scared Shebang's squeaks froze up. She did not know what to say.
You are here, Shebang, for you are going to be my successor.
Queen snapped her fingers and said to her staff, “Please re-dress her!”
I am a common squirrel, Shebang said to the queen in her humble way.
Of course Queen had been looking for such a squirrel every single day.
She agreed to try it, and the whole Squirrel Village rejoiced and sang.
They all loved her new role, their darling generous Queen Shebang.
A professor of difficult sums
Who led a simple and useful life
Till he met Big Bertha from Beverley
And took her to be his wife.
It was a convention of difficult sums
On the logistics of long haul
Followed by a civic dinner
Down the road in Hull Guildhall.
The cabaret was wresting
Big Bertha the main bout
And she and the Professor met
When her opponent threw her out
To land on him four square, sending
Him consciouslessness to the floor.
He awoke in her arms and
Fell in love with what he saw,
A fine figure of a woman
In puce and purple leotard
The emotion was also mutual
As she fell for him equally hard.
Now he's the second in her corner
And she's champion of the North West
And he works at difficult sums
Two hours a week at best.
Theyve been on the TV
And there’s talk of the silver screen
And Big Bertha and her professor
Recognised wherever they're seen.
They've had butties at the palace
Cos Camilla’s a wrestling fan
Fascinated by the story of how
Big Bertha got her man.
It's the wrestling code she said
Of that there's little doubt
Three falls, two submissions
Or a single knockout.
Now they live a life of pleasure
Taking everything as it comes
And just to keep his hand in
He's teaching her difficult sums.
Between rounds shes in her corner
A look of ecstasy on her face
Contemplating quadratic equations
On the nature of time and space.
A professor of difficult sums
Who led a simple and useful life
Till he met Big Bertha from Beverley
And took her to be his wife.