Long Salsa Poems
Long Salsa Poems. Below are the most popular long Salsa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Salsa poems by poem length and keyword.
Put on your dance shoes,
come take my hand,
We’ll Waltz through dreams in a ballroom grand.
Tango! calls with a fiery chase,
Two hearts meet in a bold embrace.
Salsa! spins in the tropic glow,
fast feet flash as the trade winds blow.
Rumba! sways with a warm desire,
slow steps burn in a tender fire.
Foxtrot! smooth as a silver stream,
cool as jazz in a midnight dream.
Quickstep! kicks with a bright, loud cheer,
flying feet as the crowd draws near.
Paso! proud with a stamping beat,
Swing! where laughter makes life complete.
The music’s here the night’s still young,
put your dance shoes on let’s join the song!
~The Rise of the ZUMBIES~
The Zombies are finished we squished them away
They won’t be back eating brains on any other day
Sucking the life out of all that they meet
The undead are dying and now admit defeat.
Not rising from the ground; the undead are now gone
There is though a new group that we have to take on.
Just as dangerous in a new way, to suck you in they pray
Insidious and strong so watch over you shoulder each day.
Hips wiggling, thigh strengthening, they have burst onto the scene
The child of the Zombie is here and crying out as a newborn will be seen.
A wiggle of the hips, the child rises from the fate of the Zombie
Be not afraid and don’t throw a thrombi.
The child of the Zombie is now called Zumba
The reanimated dead are with here but with new agile lumbar’s
Hips that wiggle, bits that jiggle and dance their way fit
Thighs so strong, legs seem long; it makes you want to go try it.
From Meringue to Salsa to Mambo and Cumba
This new threat is rising and it’s called the Zumba
Those that could not move of lift their feet in dance
They are rising from their chairs they are given a new chance
Flamenco is hot, bingo wings are not, and new strength is given to the knees
This new craze abounds, the Zumba is here so watch out for the new found Zumbies.
They will try to entice you with their wiles, they want you to dance your way fit
Be careful it’s a ploy, a new undead toy, and you may be the next they will pick.
©
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.
And For Supper Tonight...
The Missus Prepared Her Trademark Tortilla Pizza
Hmm...yum...after a hard
days night of reading Hebrew,
though I do not know a word,
nonetheless taking leftist to right
correspondence course tubby guru
hoop fully coaxing posthumous fame and glory
detailing mundane epistles about this Matthew,
yours truly indulged in delicious comestible eschew
wing noncombustible vegetarian ingredients,
asper supp pur ream culinary
innovative eats, she whipped up anew
(similar how mine late mum did construe
tasty dishes to buzzfeed famished motley crew),
anyway thee wife comprised something new
microwaved cooked, (the stove off limits),
yet savory extemporaneous hodgepodge
usually delightful originating predicated on Jew
whoosh heritage, sans unpredictable menu
within fount tin head,
where earlier this evening she drew
forth, the above titled nonpareil zesty
substantial adequately satiating
me tummy, which uttered
(rather incoherently) halloo
since supercalifragilous expialidocious impossible
mission to verbalize
with full mouth, relishing anew
analogous when just a whippersnapper,
viz teenage mutant ninja turtle lapping stew
wickedly bubbling cauldron warming Inuits igloo
thawing this adventure seeker,
when a mere hatchling shew
wing fearlessness, I unwittingly got shell lacked
(became nearly homeless) sent askew
enroute rescued courtesy Mister Magoo
aforesaid Eskimos he knew
nursed me back to health
shaman donned as a "FAKE" kangaroo
accompanied by apprentice
trumpeting on Taj Mahal miniature didgeridoo,
which nostalgic "FAKE" memory
spouse poked das man
i.e., dozing papa awake asking review,
regarding Tortilla Pizza comprising:
whole wheat tortilla, dairy free vegan cheese
organic mild salsa
meatless crumbles
cubed eggplant.
i wanna dance the mambo,the cubin cuba mambo,
i wanna dance the cha cha,hip movements with the cha cha!
or maybe try the salsa, sensual is the salsa.
i wanna dance the samba,the fun brazilian samba,
or maybe the lambada,brazilian hot lambada!
argentinian tango,intense erotic tango,
or maybe the flamenco ,passionate spain flamenco,
may even try the polka,high energy in polka,
the czech bohemian polka
i wanna go and party,good time dancing the rumba,
latino americano,cubano,africano.
i wanna do the hip hop,hip hop hip hop don't stop
dance reigns in the ball room,
i will dance the Ball Room,under and above
with you i dance the Ballroom ,classic dance of love.....
are you ready partner?
-------charma
Patriots and Seahawks, today head to head
Will wear the helmets; tooth and nail fight the day
University of Phoenix stadium, the beautiful Grand Canyon state
Sweat and blood will spill on cactus bed.
Hard training, pain, dedication and rivalry
Let it end today in guts, honor and glory.
“The Star- spangled Banner”, the sweet little song
That’s the way to start the game on
The Red, White and Blue, waving in the air
Jet planes stripe the sky in white smoky flair.
It is half time show; Katy Perry will soothe the ear
Lenny Kravitz will tear up our fear.
Time to have a drink baby
Cold beer, pinot noir or tequila savory
Let’s dive deep in some dips
Velveeta, salsa and tortilla chips.
Enjoy the platter of, hot wings, blue cheese and dill mayonnaise
Add some green olives, carrots and crunchy celeries.
Slices of pizza or meaty tacos, gasp my sigh
A bowl of chili, or even a chicken leg fry
Everything will go just fine
When we are all football high.
Forget all work, qualms and quarks
Keep your whining and politics inside the drawers
Let’s all watch the Super Bowl on this Sunday
And hold dear a simple pleasure in truly American way.
Dancologist needed here
fix these up
From the Desk of D.B. Alcuna
frowarded to the Dance Department
Groove Center
Slide in your slide
catch the groove and Grind
let the music play
aint no nevermind
watch the dancer groove
smeeze: bust a move
bouncing all around
shimmy ya'll gone doo
I know you like the song
I see you boop and Prance
all i wanna know;is can I watch you jam
Dance: Dance;Dance
Woah Renegade
twirl move that you made
gyrate;oh go behave
let me see you Dance
let me see you Dance
I see can Groove
I seen you drop a move
I like it when that song
make that Phat thang move
Dance
dance
dance
gone and Dance
ya'll wanna
Dance:
Dance:
Dance
Gone and Dance
Samba,
Salsa,
Flamenco,
or groovin slow
when the song is over
holla back for more
I wanna see you Dance
I wanna watch that Phat Thang Move
watch drop it down
moving to the groove
dance
dance
dance
gone and dance
Swagg Prance
Groove and Bounce
shake your groovey Thang
shake it all about
Dance:
Dance;
Dance
Go on and dance
The bad news is we have yellow jackets in our yard.
A colony of which I whole-heartedly disapprove.
The good news is these yellow jackets showed me…I can still bust a move.
A quick fact about yellow jackets…if into their nest you drop…
Yellow jackets start stinging…and yellow jackets do not stop.
I felt a sting on my finger…and at this point foolishly thought their attack was complete…
forgetting it takes a little longer to feel pain from my legs and my feet.
It was when the pains met in my brain…one unlucky happenstance…
that I being to panic…and I began to dance.
It was as if M. C. Hammer’s ‘You Can’t Touch This’
was emanating from speakers in the ground…
My arms were flailing…my feet were kicking…I was jumping all around.
Another quick fact about yellow jackets…I imagine it’s part of their upbringing…
They are relentless…even after they chased me off their nest…
they kept coming…they kept stinging.
Once inside the safety of my house with Benadryl in my system
and ointment on my sores…Deborah smiled at me saying,
“In all they years I’ve known you…I never saw you dance like that before.”
“You were a blend of dances.” She chuckled. “Ballet, Tango, Cha Cha…
and you made the dances overlap…a little Samba…some Salsa moves…
why I think I even saw some tap.
“Do you think the neighbors saw me?” I asked.
Deborah smiled, “Oh, without a doubt…not only were they watching…
but they had their cameras out.”
Seeing a smile on my face that evening Deborah asked what I was thinking about
“Oh,” I said, “not much.”
I was just thinking how some yellow jackets showed the whole neighborhood…
I still had dance moves…You Can’t Touch.
This is where the story ends
A young man fallen in his own mischief
Times I shouldn’t have
But I really adored my friends
Forty days, is forty or more sins
This is where my story ends
Not a whole lot of spiteful
Spiteful, unused energy
A headache is simply adding integers
Past chances is blown wind
Reassure my friends
That this is where the story ends
Cole street
No gravel below my feet
Fifty silverware a person
The next hour of continuous cursing
Pregnant hostess
With an infant that needs nursing
Waiter/slash/server
She spoke
But I never once heard her
Chips and salsa
That mistake is going to cost you
IOU’s with bronze coins to spend
I wish this was where the story ends
Do you miss me
I’d kiss you
But for twenty minutes now
I’ve been observing you
Through a glass lenses
Nineteen years
I’ve fallen before broken amends
When I held tears above my chin
Sadly this is where my story ends
My “Honey” Makes
“Sweet” Salsa.
My “Honey” has a green thumb
Her lovely garden, how it grows.
It seems she gets a good return
From every “penny” that she sows.
Each summer about this time
Her tomatoes start to blush
As they start to “pile up”
She’s in her kitchen, in a rush.
She got this wonderful recipe
From a preacher’s wife we know
Of course she’s “tweaked it”some
That’s how “family” recipes grow.
She’s got her “system” down
To produce this wonderful stuff.
To have a season pass me by
Would make my life real tuff.
She picks and peels tomatoes
Plumb & red, now sliced & diced
She grabs a lovely onion with
Some peppers, nicely spiced.
That’s as fine a recipe detail
As I’m allowed to share.
I keep her secret for myself
Cause she just wouldn’t care.
I want to feel this salsa
Is “special” made and just for me.
Cause it’s the very greatest
Anyone’s salsa could ever be.
So now I’ve shared my story
It’s made me long to dip a few
And if you lived a little closer
I’d share a fresh scoop with you.
Written by oldbuck Aug 8, 2015
After his “Honey” had just finished
making a fresh batch of her salsa.