Long Song dance Poems
Long Song dance Poems. Below are the most popular long Song dance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Song dance poems by poem length and keyword.
I was nineteen that summer
when I met him at a buck-out,
and I was totally smitten
by all the Cowboy charm he had.
I thought that he was rugged,
(and undeniably handsome),
then that bull slammed against the fence
and busted him up pretty bad.
I was surprised when he showed up at the dance,
he was battered and bruised but smiling,
and I heard him talking and laughing,
still high from the rush of the ride.
He said “You gotta’ pay the fiddler
if you want to dance to his tune”,
then he drifted across the floor,
said “Let’s dance” as he reached my side.
Mama told me I’d be sorry
if I ignored her and took up with him,
and I really hate to say it,
but I guess that she was right.
But when I review my memories
I know I’d do it all again,
for that “Eight Second Feeling”
of our first long kiss that night.
We used to dance for hours,
in the kitchen and on the porch
and laugh about owein’ that fiddler
and what his pay would be.
But lately there ain’t been no dancin’,
just long strings of awkward silence,
as his eyes look far and distant
and not so much at me.
Seems his spirit has grown uneasy,
as I listen to him talking
and realize it’s still Rodeo
that truly holds his heart.
Oh, I don’t mind coming in second,
heck, life is like that sometimes.
But knowing I’m invisible,
well, that’s the hardest part.
I suppose I should be angry,
but I just can’t find it in me,
‘cause I know what it’s like
to love something just that way.
I felt it when I first saw him,
in the arena and on the dance floor
and I still feel it sometimes
when I watch him walk away.
I’ve helped him struggle to pay the fiddler,
and it breaks my heart to see him weary,
so I stand in silent acceptance,
as I watch him pack his things.
I understand his leaving,
I know he won’t be coming back here,
our life together, a lesson,
one that time always seems to bring.
I walk out past the horse pens,
pull the gate shut…and I lock it,
hear my mare start to nicker
as the trailer pulls away.
I’d like to say I’ll miss him,
his past still holds my heart.
But we danced to the fiddler’s tune
and the final payment came due today.
From a reddish horrifying gloomy cloud which brings upon a frowning
beast~ I shall overcome and finally a smile shall bring me peace—poet :)
Smiles are weapons against pain
Armor protection for depression or hate
Diffusers for an opponent’s attack
Antidotes of dopamine and cortisol
Smiling eyes are the windows to the soul
some say, yet smiles can be deceiving
A player uses his charm that sweeps you away
An enemies leer stirs unspoken innuendos,
mouth is smiling yet dead eyes defy
A ghoulish grin denies it's upside-down smile,
scornful cinnabar smears, spanning ‘cross the lips
from cheek-to-cheek as fingers paint
when tears deny a petulant pout
‘Tis what makes me frown
What makes me smile can be admired in;
Arts colorful paintings, ancient and new
Fashion Design, Egyptian hieroglyphics
Poetry, witty with a bit of whimsy
humorous Limericks with mindful tricks
Animals and a child's innocence
a baby’s giggle, a kitten’s purr,
a puppy’s warmth, a bird’s chirp
Musicals songs, Movies Rom-coms
Theatre recites, the Opera excites
Dances that mash up with Western music, high energy
fusion of styles global, multifaceted technique
Bolly-Hop, Disco-Funk, Tap! Is sheik
Music's nostalgia, classical is golden
Nature's moonshine, sunshine, a stolen starry night
Red bourbon rosette, blue violet, fragrance flowers
From land to Ocean, to the crystalline sapphire sea
Food and drink, Antipasto, mint Iced Tea,
Tapas and Sangria, Hors d’oeuvres and cognac
Finally and most of all what makes me smile?
Love of life, so free-spirited, it gives love back
Inside my mailbox late last month; nine packs of seeds - a mystery!
I hadn't ordered anything, but curious was I to see
what might become of planting them. So grabbing trowel, hoe, and rake,
I set about to till some soil; a little garden plot to make.
To my delight, the plants grew fast. I'd saved the packs to see each name;
though Latin isn't my first tongue, I'd know each blossom as it came.
Each flower shape was like a quill, which I then took back to my room
and onto paper, words would spill from every seed's enchanted bloom.
The packet labeled "Clio Phlox" was my first taste of mystery:
the quill-shaped flower wrote and wrote a tome of Roman history!
"Euterpe Hyacinth" was next: this writing didn't take as long.
Within ten minutes, written down were lyrics of a lovely song.
Then "Terpsichore Ranunculus" - after it drew a five-line staff,
composed a lively dance tune for the song lyrics - it made me laugh!
Speaking of laughter, my next bloom; the "Thalia Agapanthus" wrote
a stand-up comic's funny script - a joke or two I'd love to quote.
"Melpomene Nasturtium" was the one I needed tissues for:
as tragic words came pouring out, my teardrops splashed upon the floor.
"Urania Hydrangea" wrote sweet poetry of sun and stars,
of comets, and alignment of the moon with Jupiter and Mars.
"Erato Rosa" wrote some rhymes of kisses under stars above,
some ballads of infatuation, some of unrequited love.
"Calliope Plumeria" wrote fast and long: one poem came -
a tragic tale of epic length, it put poor Beowulf to shame!
"Gardenia Polyhymnia" wrote Psalm-like hymns, I said "amen".
My eyes were reverently shut, but when I opened them again -
I realized it was a dream! Nine muses came in flower form.
I woke, and quickly wrote this down (believe me, this is not the norm!)
//Note: The Nine muses of ancient Greece were:
//Clio - History Euterpe - Lyric Poetry Terpsichore - Song/Dance
//Thalia - Comedy Melpomene - Tragedy Urania - Astronomy
//Erato - Love poetry Calliope - Epic poetry Polyhymnia - Sacred Hymns
//... the remaining Latin words are names of some of my favorite flowers
written 12 Aug 2020
Unknown Nothings
Infinite amounts of prophecies
philosophies
sciences
ideologies
ideas
dharmas
karmas
and dogmas of
beginnings
endings
afterlives
heavens
hells
nirvanas
enlightenments
salvations
damnations
repentances
reincarnations
meanings
purposes
life's suffering
trials and tribulations
creators and creators' adversaries
over-exaggerated
over-analyzed
over-interpreted
over-exhausted
over-excerted
epic poems that have been canonized and turned into sacred texts and turned in religions spiritual philosophies
mythologies
folktales and fairytales
promisings of estimated non-testable hypothesises through the Scientific Method but by faith and fictitious facts alone without any substantial evidence
instructions on how to live
who and how to worship and who not to worship
who to give praise, sing, dance and play music to
who to not give praise, song, dance, and play music too
explanations claiming to know every answer to every question that mankind had ever asked especially in the grey areas of life because it's not just black and white all of the time
selling speculations of so-called truths
claiming to be the one and only absolute truth
promising absolute certainities
revelations
visions
visitations
communications with invincible beings
forcefully feeding non-believers their truths in hopes of converting them over
controlling
coercing
manipulating their believers into doing whatever they are told to do
executioning non-believers
inquisting non-believers
promising to solve all of your problems
promising to offer you hopes
comforts
meanings and purposes
promising you eternal salvations
promising you eternal Nirvanas
promising you eternal happiness
promising you eternal joy
proselytizing and catechizing their truths to the world
each of these things supposedly offer everything above and so much more but the truth is that nobody truly knows any truth about anything mention above and so much more
isn't it funny mankind has come up with and even made up so many answers to everything but there are still people who doubt everyone of them and don't know why they think that they are the one and only truthsayers?
Form:
Inspired by Iron Maiden’s song Dance of Death
When the transiting sun shined enchantingly,
spreading color spectrum in the chameleon sky,
I saw once the masked figures of ingenious craft,
walk with me enticed on the broken garden path.
At nightfall, I didn’t hear their footsteps prancing,
while their masks dissolved in the depth of darkness,
I saw their shapeless hollow faces
that chilled my spine immobile.
In the desolate domain of eerie milieu,
under the ebony shadow of the opaque sky,
on the murky hideous landscape desolate,
the nocturnal creatures danced lifeless,
stalking me as sinister night riders,
that slithered in the sly from the creepy forlornness
of the scary wild where I followed them entranced.
With the arcane image of death concealed,
as feral creatures of deceptive charm they lurked.
Like the sordid silhouettes of lethal menace
they stealthily sneaked with the shadow of dark danger
into the quintessence of my placid life.
They sipped my soul’s nectar from the chalice of squalid night,
enticing me to join them in the dance of death.
After the party ended in the middle of the fatal night,
the shapeless figures left one by one.
The psychedelic lights dissolved into gripping darkness,
the spiteful wild air rippled with the cadence of death.
Then I saw the figures return, floating in the rhythm of ballet.
Chiseled from the blocks of deadly darkness
their fragile frames configured from the vicious void
assembled to fill my lonesome emptiness
that danced to the music of death.
I sensed me sinking with my morphed essence
within the flowing trance of the mystique night.
I heard the distant bell toll faint for me,
the music of life’s violin stopped in an instant
within the time transcending depth of silence.
When my time flowed to the stilled past, I wanted to relive,
I felt the invisible cold grip take away my last breath,
until I emerged from the spell of trance,
when my soul arose from the fathomless unknown depth,
where I had been hypnotized,
making music in infinite solitude for the dance of death.
this is a song as yet to be set to music---it's to be sung by a lady so anyone who knows how to sing and write music take this and run with it...i don't want anything except to know someone found it worthy and had the inclination to do something she was born to do:
TAKE A SPIN IN CRINOLINE
Do you tango?
Do you dance a lot,
my Sir Lancelot?
Do you cha-cha?
And like me you sure are hot?\
Do you mambo?
Do you Lindy Hop?
Do you slow dance?
And does dancing make your champagne pop?
Do you rumba?
Do you shake your butt about?
Do you do the twist?
Now does it make you scream and shout?
This girl must dance as she must breathe
A two step done from two steps away
A breath apart and ready to dance
Wanting to wiggle and set to sway
Does the band believe in you,
The way that it does me?
Is the music your only muse,
And does the music make you free?
So again I ask you……
Do you tango?
Do you dance a lot,
my Sir Lancelot?
Do you cha-cha?
And like me are you hot?
And just like me, baby, are you hot?
CHANGE MELODY
So do you want to quick step, Mister?
With me in silk and crinoline
Don’t peek under my dress demure
As you watch me begin to spin
We can rumba and drink some rum
We can ch-ch-chance a cha-cha or two
Put your hands forcefully around my waist
Because Mister, I’m ready to dance with you
You can lead and lead me anywhere
Places you may have seen before
per chane the bar and back again
But I won’t leave this here dance floor
No I won’t leave this here dance floor
Do you tango with your cheek near mine?
And lips so close we share one taste
What is that Mister dancing man,
you don’t dance, oh what a woeful waste?
Yes what a woeful waste
So you don’t tango the way that I do
And your slow dance has slowed to a halt
Well Mister, the fact that you can’t dance
Hell, honey, that ain’t this young chick’s fault
No baby, that ain’t none of this young girl’s fault
No, that ain’t no fault of mine
But let’s not call this love to a halt
Because I said, Mister Mister,
that just ain’t....... that just ain’t my faultttttttttttt!
© 2012…copyright PHREEPOETREE ..~free cee!~
All conversations,
like harmonic music,
practice rhetoric's resonant reconnection
with communicating hope,
spirited intent,
re-ligioning faith;
panentheistic love.
All revolutionary integral spirals
practice nurturing naturally healthy trends
with spirited hope,
mindful intent,
embodied creolizing faith;
and within Great EarthSystemic climaxing devolutions,
still small voiced sad-theistic love.
All divinely humane re-creators
nurture open-loop polyculturing re-ligions,
emerging local healthy
through global wealthy hope
reweaving positive empowering intent,
economic enlightened faith;
and, inter-religiously,
nurturing nature-spirited indigenous love
of organically sentient root systems
panentheistically savoring landscape re-development networks,
both on- and off-line,
with arts and craftsy non-ZeroEgo EcoCommunion Zones.
All verbal discernment practice
LeftBrain dominant language communion
with re-ligioning mind hope
for active body climaxing love,
faith in Gandhian nonviolent communion wealth
of nondually co-arising win/win healthy outcomes.
All reiterative information strings
within communication networks
organic and/or digital
practice co-arising/co-gravitating flow
Positive synergeticMind/synapticBody
AND DoubleNegative dipolar aptic,
with hope for less felt dissonance
and pathological absence
of primal LeftVerbal-thoughts/RightNonVerbal-feelings
bipartisan synergetic re-ligioning communication.
All love-sentience practices sacred communion
re-connecting healthy multiculturing ego-faith
within wealthy polyculturing eco-religion
EgoAnthro Left spoken
inside EcoEarth's unspoken Right
to live Tao balance proportions of symmetry,
Tipping MidWay Points
gleaming sunlight's reflection off Earth's transparent skin
toward Alpha OneSun Light through (0)Mega EarthPower
neuro/eco-woke bicameral bright
displaying Ego's mind/body stage
for song/dance
re-ligious health campaign wealth events,
each interdependent aria/aura
comprising EarthTribe's ReLigioning Opera.
I was taken from this life
in the black night, blindfolded
to be clubbed to death
so that I
might be born again
in spirit song, dance and name
given by my great ancestor
who, ten thousand years ago or more,
crossed the Bering land bridge from
Siberia to Cowichan and the Salish Sea
warm land of the raven,
the black bear and the salmon.
I have suffered
four hundred years
of dislocation of the soul
in this barren culture, nameless
but for “primitive squaw.”
I have lost
Tamanawas, the sacred ritual dance
the Potlatch feast of giving and
my children and my language.
I will endure
four days and nights
confined and cold and hungry
while all around the rhythmic pulse
of elders’ drumming, chanting
guides me back in time and space
to voices still resounding
stories of a dancing flame
light upon the earth
And I will rise in cedar forests
and walk the clamshell middens
feel our language on my skin
and see with startled eyes new life
the Soulfire I’ve been given.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was for the Shaman's Way contest but I think I missed it.
Cowichan --used to be pronounced coWEEchan now it's usually said like, Cow i chan.
The Canadian government outlawed many Coast Salish practices until the 1960's--the Spirit Quest, Potlatch feast and
Tamanwas dance among them. Children were placed in residential schools, away from their families, and were forbidden
to speak their mother tongue. More recently, the spirit quest ritual has been revived as (loosely) described in the
poem. However, it is also now used as a form of "intervention" to help address an array of problems frequently
attributed to colonization (e.g., drug and alcohol misuse). So, where in the past, young people would go off into the
forest voluntarily, it is now often the case, (at least in Cowichan) that young people are taken from their beds in the
night. Initiates are first symbolically "clubbed to death" then "reborn" after multiple days of ritual practices.
To all of you who read the first song, I thank you-and to those of you who went to CJBELL.NET I thank you exponentially
TAKE A SPIN IN CRINOLINE
Do you tango?
Do you dance a lot,
my Sir Lancelot?
Do you cha-cha?
And like me you sure are hot
Do you mambo?
Do you Lindy Hop?
Do you slow dance?
And does dancing make your champagne pop?
Do you rumba?
Do you shake your butt about?
Do you do the twist?
Now does it make you scream and shout?
This girl must dance as she must breathe
A two step done from two steps away
A breath apart and ready to dance
Wanting to wiggle and set to sway
Does the band believe in you,
The way that it does me?
Is the music your only muse,
And does the music make you free?
So again I ask you……
Do you tango?
Do you dance a lot,
my Sir Lancelot?
Do you cha-cha?
And like me are you hot?
And just like me, baby, are you hot?
CHANGE MELODY
So do you want to quick step, Mister?
With me in silk and crinoline
Don’t peek under my dress demure
As you watch me begin to spin
We can rumba and drink some rum
We can ch-ch-chance a cha-cha or two
Put your hands forcefully around my waist
Because Mister, I’m ready to dance with you
You can lead and lead me anywhere
Places you may have seen before
Like to the bar and back again
But I won’t leave this here dance floor
No I won’t leave this here dance floor
Do you tango with your cheek near mine
And lips so close we share one taste
What is that Mister dancing man,
you don’t dance, oh what a woeful waste?
Yes what a woeful waste
So you don’t tango the way that I do
And your slow dance has slowed to a halt
Well Mister, the fact that you can’t dance
alas honey, that ain’t this young chick’s fault
No baby, that ain’t none of this young girl’s fault
No, that ain’t no fault of mine
But let’s not call this love to a halt
Because I said, Mister Mister,
that just ain’t,
that just ain’t this hot chick's faultttttttttttt!
© 2013 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
HANDS OFF THE MERCHAN-PRICE
Boys, the price is now ten dollars a dance
Due mostly to this country’s inflation
But if someone said you get more than a dance
Mister, you got some faulty information
I can do almost any dance you request
I can dance like a seraph, a sprite or an elf
When it comes to dancing, man, I am the best
But mister, you had better keep your hands to yourself
I’ll jiggle and wiggle and I might even giggle
And there ain’t a dance that’s opposed to me
Hold me tight while you spin me around
But mister, keep your hands where they’re supposed to be
I can adapt to most any dance you might choose
A tap dancer or a hot hula dancer, honey I can be them
I’m adept at adapting to anything you may want
But mister, keep your hands where I can see them
Boys, the price is now ten dollars a dance
Due mostly to this country’s inflation
But if someone said you get more than a dance
Mister, you got some faulty information
I will shake it and make it a dance worthwhile
And it will be my curves that you will ponder
It will be the best ten dollars you ever spent
But mister, don’t coerce your hands to wander
Ten dollars will get you the dance of your life
But only if you are able to meet my price
The two of us can dance the whole night away
But mister, keep your hands off the merchandise
It’s only a dance, and that’s all you will get
Gimme ten bucks and you can take my hand
But honey, don’t expect extra for your money
Okay, a peck on the cheek will cost you an extra grand
But don’t forget that I’m married to a man in the band
Because I am married to that drummer in the baaaaandddddddd!
© 2012…copyright PHREEPOETREE ..~free cee!~