Prancy Poems | Examples

fancy dancy rooster cha cha cha

Fancy dancy rooster with a cha cha cha
Strumped up like a prancy peacock, with a fah lah lah
Suit jacket was custom made by Dior himself, of course.
Daisies on the lapel are much too much said the horse.

The barnyard was messy with manure and stuff.
Fancy dancy rooster got splashed, stalked off in a huff.
Acts like a male peacock too, a peahen said.
The hens agreed that everything went straight to his head.

This Reindeer was Prancy Dancy

This reindeer was almost too prancy-dancy,
Way too eager to look pretty and fancy.
I did not know what to tell my neice Lancy.

I doubted that he had any interest in her.
Too pretty, too neat, organized, too pure.
This reindeer hourly combed up his fur!

Lamb Loved Her New Swim Cap

It is not that Lamb did not like her new flowered swim cap.
She loved it, and it fit her, making her feel snappity snap.
But the rest of the lambs were bleating about it in mean ways.
Don’t worry, said her friend Lucy, it gives your face a raise!

It is chic and sleek, and the petals are engraved just right.
To me, when you wear it, you are kind of “out of sight”.
So with confidence Lamb wore her new cap to swim.
It gave her a jazzy feeling, increasing her prancy dancy vim.

Cat Full of Catittude

That prancy cat is full of cattitude! 
His growls toward us are truly rude!
We are the ones who provide his food.
He hates us, said the annoyed dude.

I will take the cat, I said.
I have a dog who lies in bed.
This will give them both something to do.
Matter of fact, I ‘ll take your parrot too.

A Joyful Prancyness

A joyful prancy-ness about.
I am in the rhyming mood without a doubt
The words are doing a funny little jig.
I follow them closely like a pot-belly pig.

A happy feeling envelops me in all ways
This is a great way to spend one of my days.
The sentences are typing themselves and quickly.
I like it when the poems prance forth this slickly.

Living As Book Characters Daily

On Tuesday I was a prancy, dancy, pirate queen, 
On Wednesday I was a velvet-clad bohemian traveling fancy lady, 
Yesterday I as a native American who had been done wrong by cowboys.

I am on a Treasure Island today.
The youngest son in Swiss Family Robinson.

My personas are found promptly when I pick up well-loved missives.

Last week I was Jo, the heroine of Little Women, 
cutting off my hair and selling it
to help my family.
More often than not I am Pippi Longstockings, living alone, 
without parents, taking care of me and my monkey.
There is truth in every book I stick with, for in that book I find a sliver of myself.

Books where I see no inkling or believable bare hint of me hold no interest.
They are not the ones I return to again and again, relishing in my glory days.
Slashing my sabers, showing the world what I can do with a bit of fantasy.

Let's Revolutionize and Modernize

Let’s prioritize,
Revolutionize,
Synchronize,
Synthesize,
Modernize,
Electrify,

Excitement mounts in the mob.
They love the words.
They sound fancy, prancy, dancy.
They vote for the man.
At least it’s not a woman.
We can’t have one of those yet.

People are ready.
Want a change.
Except not a woman of course.
Never a woman.

Not realizing
All they really need
Is a house in the country,
With flowers, and a garden.

Dancin Nancy--

The dancer shudders at the exciting girlfriend;
He wants to leave but she wants the front end;

As I look up into the skies I'm praying;
As I take up into the pitches I'm staying; 

Whether tap or ballroom fancy prancy dancing;
Or showing off those moves foot loose chancing;



6/23/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019

Glowing Gleaming Orange

Fire sparks, dragon scales, Lucy's hair
If I were limited to seeing and wearing one color
it would be orange

Bright vivid neon orange in paisleys or polka dots
Not the orange of tabbies, but the glowing gleaming orange
of the most vivid leaf you have ever hoped to see

Orange dazzles my eyes out. If I could find orange underwear
In my size 9's, I would run around lifting up my gypsy skirt 
Orange in my jewelry, orange in my shoes. Orange, orange, orange!

Sure, you say. She is probably lying. Come see my house.
It is done up in Oranges, yellows and pinks, and if I had to lose two
Of these colors, sorry yellow and pink, but you would have to go

I want fire engines to be orange. I want stop signs to be orange
I want the whole wold to be the color of prancing, angry hot flames
Orange I say. Orange I yell! Orange I am. Prancy, dancy, orange.

Come In Said the Spider To the Fly

What kind of prissy, prancy, fanciness is afoot?
I look down, afraid my wizened mouth might reveal something
I truly have nothing to divulge, but I act mysteriously coy.

She looks like a Cheshire Cat, someone whispers within my hearing.
None of them know that I have dog-ears; only my friends know.
Who? 
I hear my name. 
Two or three co-workers who rarely speak to me
Come into my office,  under weirdly suspicious pretenses,
acting like buddies, four minutes apart.

I gloat in my spider’s chair, thinking of how I would
devour them if I was a praying mantis, wishing I was actually.
“What is new?” one asks me. 
I pretend indifference. “You tell me,” I say.

I have never had this much attention.
I guess I should have my buddy, the police officer,
stop by daily, and shut my door.
She seems to have stirred
great interest.

Maybe they think I am more
than a pirate, a criminal?
I put on my poker face for 
another round, loving my web today.

Scramble Ramble Damble Boo

Scramble, ramble, damble, boo.
Amble, gamble, jamble, moo.
I like rhymes that are prancy and good.
The ones that remind me of my childhood.

Bibbity Bobbity Dibbity Doo.
I am in a child-like mind, how about you?
Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein have taken over my brain.
I want to be serious, but simply cannot refrain.

The sheer happiness of their marvelous rhyme
Kept my younger self in stitches, much of the time.
Red flower, green bush, cumulous clouds, and sky of azure blue.
It is my attempt at two unusual words. How did I do?

My Go-To Color Is Neon Orange

Orange is my go-to color because I look smashing in it
Not anymore, but I used to when I was twelve
I had the most darling orange sweatshirt 
Probably disintegrated now after being sliced, washing cars.

I am an artist; and neon-orange is in every single painting
I am glancing around at my walls now to verify.
Yes, even the teeny rabbit painting has orange in it.
Actually orange is the main color of that rabbit, cows, cats, etc.

You thought a lady bug could not be orange?
Think again. It is my dancy-prancy-happiest color
I do not hesitate to wear it, mold it, and poetize it.
Obviously...

Amphibian Me

I am an amphibian
Living in and out of my own truth
With you one day,
Totally against you the next.
Personalities swirling inside
Staring into a mirror wondering
Will we like me today?

Will we be kind to this face?
Will we have positive self-talk?
Will we be able to salvage any kind of love for self?
You look old, I think. Not a good start.
Is that a skin tag?
Dhram!

Worse start now.
What about trying to like ourselves today?
One of my personalities begins to whine.
I hate whiners.
Are we even going to try? Another personality inquires.
I turn away from the mirror, but not before thinking I look old.

My hands are old too.
Grandma hands.
Spotted. Freckled more than my face ever was.
A face I used to like.
Come on! One of my selves pleads.
Let's be our prancy, dancy self today.

Shall I call in sick? To play in my art studio?
To write my poetry? To salvage my joyful side?
I look back into the mirror. I look younger. I see my twelve.
I am excited now. The possibility of having a mental health day.
My muse is twirling and swirling, dancing.
Amphibian me laughs, as we reach for the phone.
I love it when my bliss comes out to play.

Create What Will Become a Teensy Bit of Me

It began as an idea.
Hopped up on my dendrite highway.
Zoomed through my wide-open interstate and took me on a ride.
I was holding on as hard as I could.
 
A smile turned into a flat out worldwide laugh.
Idea one turned herself into upside down girl,
Flatulent gorilla, chameleon on a stick.
A poem? A canvas? A play? A book?
A novel? Possibilities overtook me
And threw me into a soft nap.
 
Ideas do this to me sometime.
To percolate prettily while I sleep.
I never color inside the box,
Because I do not see a box,
I always see a diamond or a star.
 
My hazel eyes on the prize, I took out my favorite glitzy paints and began to devour myself.
On a canvas, on the wall.
Drew the brush swiftly onto the wall and down onto the floor.
Never stopping, happily, zanily  out of control, abnormal to some,
Completely normal to me.
 
Beginning once again to create what will become a teensy bit of me...

Fully into the 
Kingdom of “be yourself” which my dancy, prancy muse and  I will leave
In my wake at my wake. 
Furiously creating a non-final me.

Written 12-14-2019    Contest: Creativity in Visual Arts
Sponsor: Line Gauthier

Color Me Happy

Color my day magical, paint my day lavender.
Throw in some glitter, some glitz and some fun.
A day with good friends, who laugh at the right times,
Who know when to hug, and know when you need to cry,
Staying silent, standing helpfully, lovingly by.

Color my day joyful, and enthusiastically prancy.
I know my friends are coming, so I am feeling quite dancy.
Color my day exciting, color my day glittery with acrylics and neon.
Paint it in fun, wholesome and spectacularly freeing and fine.

Color my day.
Paint it lavishly with oranges and purples.
Throw in plenty of pink, of the hottest and happiest hue.
Color my day magical.
Color it marvelous.
Color it wonderful.

Here are my friends.
Let’s paint them,
But save some of the color
For me, as I want to be as magical
As possible. Rainbow me up. Be daring and wild.
You cannot hurt me; I am a rainy-day child.

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