Dance Metaphor Poems | Examples
These Dance Metaphor poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Dance. These are the best examples of Metaphor Dance poems written by international poets.
Through shattered glass, I see my past
Reflected fragments of what didn't last
Like ripples on a midnight sea
Each piece reveals a part of me.
The phoenix rises from the deep
Where shadows dance and secrets sleep
With every step, I claim my ground
Between the worlds I've turned around.
In cosmic depths, I find my voice
Where darkness meets the inner choice
To rise above the breaking pain
And turn my scars into wings again.
The mirrors crack, the pieces fall
But in their shards, I hear it all
The whispers of my deepest soul
Guiding me to make myself whole.
i sit behind the bodega counter,
breath trapped in wax and soft flicker
watch the old men tap pockets
for lotto dreams and loose change faith.
they light me when the landlord knocks too hard,
when the roaches dance too bold,
when the rent feels like a knife under the door.
i swallow the prayers like chiclets
sweet for a second, gone before dawn.
abuela calls my name over simmering beans,
tells the kids hush, hush, he listening
like i’m some holy wire tapped
straight to god’s ear.
i ain’t no miracle, mija.
i’m just borrowed light
a warm lie to keep the dark outside the door.
i hear the gossip slip under mattresses
baby jesus under titi carmen’s springs,
rats chewing faith at the corners.
i smell the cigar smoke floating up
promise carried in every puff,
sin curled soft in the ashtray.
still, i burn.
still, i stand watch
over scratched lotto slips,
over prayers paid in quarters,
over soft curses when the numbers don’t hit.
i ain’t no savior.
i’m just a borrowed saint,
a Harlem hush, a flicker in the dark
holding your secrets safe
‘til morning comes knocking.
Present
Flowers
Before
My hours
Fall in
Darkness
Rightly
You watch
Idly
Come near
With songs;
Sweet drink
Calming
Lightly
Hold back
These parts
From him
Who hides
In wind—
Hunter
Seeking
Close by,
Black eyes
Tighten
My heart
Repines,
The beat
Creaking
Saracen princess,
Blackened corridors bathed in honey hold you in high esteem as you dance in flickers, eyes raising the death toll every time you envision your body against your next casualty. It pleases me greatly.
Could you cross into that other world with me? Our souls have traversed the morning sky, searching for the cure to this hallucination, masking horripilation with lust and ambition. It would please me greatly.
I am the son of the soldier who was the grandson of a soldier who was the great-grandson of a chief. My mother tells me my grandmother believes she's a queen. It pleases me greatly.
I will bring you every world. The corridors of my heart flicker, masking the morning sky with visions of blackened soldiers, horror hollowed by a honeyed queen. You please me greatly.
little piper, little piper
oh how fast you skip away
as the morning tide crawls in to taste the beach
briny swishes bring your breakfast
while you prance to greet the day
and they never seem to wet you
like you're privy to a chosen course of each
little piper, little piper
such a ballet you perform
when you twirl and pirouette your dainty feet
darting in-and-out the sea foam
just to keep them dry and warm
all with perfect form and motion
so as not to warn those little things you eat
little piper, little piper
you're the bane of every clam
watching closely for their bubbles in the sand
oh, the hermit crabs are missing
each-and-each now on the lam
and the hot sand gently hissing
as you try to sate your hungry chick's demand
little piper, little piper
all day long your work persists
as your tummy and your wee one both are fed
so with food enough to sleep on
'midst the creeping twilight mists
and as purple shadows deepen
comes the time to sing your little one to bed
little piper, now you dance in dreams ... instead.
A SUMMER BALLET
In shade and cool winds,
tree green leaves and pink flowers,
joyfully ballet:-
ANGIE, that last slow dance in smoky haze—
you slipped UNDER MY THUMB like twilight’s ache.
The Rolling Stones crooned fate through tangled days;
I tried to PAINT IT BLACK for mercy’s sake.
But YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT—truth stings—
just loaded TUMBLIN DICE in neon towns,
chasing HONKY TONK WOMEN on borrowed wings
while WILD HORSES dragged dreams to thorny grounds.
O RUBY TUESDAY, ghost in sequin sheen,
your laugh a roulette wheel’s bright, spinning sound.
The jukebox plays what might-have-been,
where every win was loss, and lost was found.
Stones still roll… but honey, in the end,
the house takes all. Even diamonds bend.
I watched a leaf release its breath,
A golden sigh upon the air.
It tumbled softly into death,
A quiet dance without despair.
The wind, a gentle funeral song,
Caressed it with a lover’s grace.
It drifted, weightless, swept along,
No bitterness upon its face.
I thought of all I’ve had to leave,
The hands, the homes, the hollow years.
I thought of how we choose to grieve,
Of all we bury in our tears.
I saw myself in autumn’s fall,
A fragile thing, a fleeting name.
Each chapter closed, each silent call,
A softer ending than I claim.
I let the stillness speak to me,
I let the branches bend and sigh.
I let the leaf teach how to be—
To let things go without goodbye.
The leaves fall not from spite or fear,
But from a life that must renew.
Their fading paints the earth sincere,
A quiet blaze in every hue.
I whispered thanks to every breeze,
To every stem that dared release.
I whispered as the shadows seized,
And felt within a tender peace.
The leaf, the loss, the letting go—
All part of something vast and kind.
A truth the autumn leaves still know:
We lose, we fall, we rise, we find.
The sun and the moon,
dance an endless cosmic dance...
to raise our spirits!
I look on, reciting lines, reacting, responding,
the lights are dim, the stage is cold.
I dance across the scene, choreographed to my solitude,
hurt, tired, done, but I never stop.
Tears roll, screams echo, but I never stop.
I almost collapse, I can't go on, but I never stop.
I'm dead, my body rotting, but I never stop.
I look to my audience, my muse, my purpose,
I can't deny them, I have to please them,
Regardless of consequence, the show must go on.
I have been reduced to a corpse that has been revived,
revived for entertainment, for their amusement and amazement,
I can't refuse, I can't disobey, I am a slave to the arts.
I can still hear her, although I left her behind,
I can hear her, sobbing, pleading, begging me to stay.
Begging me to stay with her, to leave the cult in which I am trapped
I can still hear her, haunting me,
"The theatre is dark, the seats empty, the stage silent- so why are you still acting...?"
Lights now off,
Yet the room stays bright—
With a lamp
Still aglow,
Chasing the dancing harlots
From pillar to post.
Contest: Spin a shardoma Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
Date: June 2nd, 2025
Placement: Second
Know ye thy No-No’s, mark 'em well,
Lest their folly trap thee in their spell.
Lick ye not the pie before it be cooled,
For hasty tongues are so easily fooled.
Pluck ye not the fruit that dangles too low,
For ease of pick, may a sour worm bestow.
Nor partake ye of the fig from Eden’s tree,
Lest thou nudity be pricked by destiny.
Dance not with drunks past midnight’s chime,
Lest thy foot tippy-toe tap in Devil’s time.
Nor jest ye too late in yon darkly shaded room.
For such livid indulgence leads to doom.
Sing ye, call ye, all thy No-No’s, out loud!
Like ravens canoodling, wailing to the cloud.
Their lessons learned in wine, sin and woe,
Of tales so true, of what those no-no's told ye so.
Be wise my friend, 'Know ye thy No-No’s' guise,
For sirens oft sing out in sweet disguise:
"To be or not to be, now that's my question be?"
"Come live with me, be my love; share thy no-no's with me."
“Tea”
Steam pouring forward, perhaps captured with the cold air of time
To be forgotten and lost
Blown away too quick to be tangible
Gentle momentum but me
Not so
Not even the steam ringing from hot tea
Whiskers of cinnamon promise fulfillment
Spikes of ice hot cut it short
Forevermore longing to be
Something more then hot tea taken on an unforgiving night
Bound for nothing
Bound for black and quiet
Only for a moment to be thought of a graceful dance guided with wind
And even I
To be known only to be lost
And to have been something
For it to lack with the persistence of time
Afore loved is always a burden that carries deep into the roots of a being
Although to be named cold air
Is still to be named
Carries with it a reluctance to reminisce
The cold air
We beat our drums to the sound of the bell
But we can not copy the sound
So we'll dance, and sing in celebration
For peace has finally come
With the fog cleared up
We can see the truth
Together we wait
For the islands' singing voice to sing again
When the bell tolls
The story will repeat again
Over and over again
As we sing till our voices reach the sky
We will learn how to harmoniously dance this new dance.
May misstep each other's feet but we can break the tense trance.
Eventually we will learn our reasons to happily prance.