Quickstep Poems

Put Your Dance Shoes On

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!

Misplacing China

I've almost forgotten it.
It got too big -
holes appeared,
entire towns fell through
my memory.

The Forbidden City
is a convoluted red and gold ribbon,
my mind cannot now untangle.
Images float off the ink
of curling maps.
Snapshots flutter
like flags in a desert sky.

I recall in parts and pieces:
middle-aged couple’s street dancing,
no revolutionary strutting,
just Quickstep, Foxtrot,
and Bossa Nova.
The young watching,
taking notes, as if
studying for an exam.

A small one-armed boy,
riding a peddle bike,
weaving through traffic,
four black cormorants strapped to his back,
their necks craning out of their wicker cage,
like sight-seeing dogs.

A quick look at Mongolia
through a hole in the Wall.

China got loose,
it escaped the hotels,
the tour buses, the itinerary.
It went down a crowded alley,
draped with roast ducks,
and paper lanterns.

If I were now to follow it,
it might lead me,
to a restaurant in London,
San Francisco, or Toronto,
or like today
come together again,
in the eyes of a girl
who sells me a smart phone.

The eyes of Texas

A blindfold is taken, removed clean away
A guvenor is standing.' As bidens mouth goes astray
He needs help in the matter, thats just all that it is'
As his mind goes to quickstep, as its all his old biz
Yet his minds beyond recall, like the young men who cross
Thats causing anxiety, its seen right round the world.'
There are reasons, and dis-reason' it seems the state flag got furled
Got some dust on its colours' yet thats blown clean away Its flying, through the whole state, where brave still; live today!
And a nation is choosing  maybe while it still can'?
Enacting lawful state perrogatives moving women and men
To awaken, and to actions' to repulse and repair.'
Maybe gain more real leaders? the type that really do care.'

Wilder and Wilder Dancing

Frenzied, melodic tunes are playing, in the lime green forests,
In whistles, croaks and chirping, where jade growth is lawless,
And nature is humming and dancing, all over the azure world-
Then colors dance on even skies, where sunset lately swirled.

Stars and moon gaze all nighttime, at the never ending ballet,
With its sudden leaps and easy jumps, while the crickets play,
And when morning returns, they are doing the lively quickstep,
To magenta, dawn singing, and as always, there is no misstep.

The Last Dance

While careening with Carene,
a boogie-woogie with Wanita, wow!
Then, a whirl with Pearl,
a jiggy jig with Jacqueline.
At intervals rhumba with a Rosalie.
An experimental ballet
with Bonnie, Bob, and Blaire.
Thanks, Charlie, for the Cha-cha-cha!
A quick shimmy with Shailene,
disco with a duchess
prancing with a prince,
and quickstep with a queen.
A charleston with Cherise
before long, samba with Sabrina,
a quick jive with Jennifer,
followed by a tango with Tasneem.
Pole dancing with Priscilla,
Poppy, Penny, and Pandora.
Kuchipudi with Kahini
and kizomba with Kabibe.
Conga with a coven
flamenco with old flame,
what will be my last dance?
Danzón with the Devil, I expect.

The Last Dance Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish 
Date wrote: 13-July-2021

Dance Party In Summer

dance party of summer

blue waves rock and roll
 seashore tides shimmy and shake ~
  sunlight tap dances

white clouds pirouette
 delphiniums deep plies ~
  ebb tides grand jettes

meadows slowly waltz
 forests polka with raindrops ~
  breezes minuet

willow trees tango
 sunflowers skip jump and jive ~
  moon does the hustle

butterflies slow dance
 ladybugs groove in two-step ~
  surfside twists and shouts

shooting stars moon walk
 tide pools salsa dancing ~
  birch trees swing and sway

dandelions stroll
 fields of daisies jitterbug ~
  long days zydeco

swift rivers rumba
 rapids mambo in quickstep ~
  starshine at the hop

Storm Dance

We danced quickstep before the storm
 my pups eager -- eyes wide
 we raced in the rustling grasses
 the early winds whispering beware to the trees
 then the rushing air and the sky drumming began
 the crows watched cawing hidden in the pines
 the birds chirped and swore as the wind began to roar
 the trees swayed and beat against each other’s limbs,  
 near the thundering waves of the east cliff drive
 the ocean whipped its greenish blue hue into white foam
 there is thumping on the roof now
 as the ice blue sky becomes cobalt electric air
 the birds grow quiet hiding in green sanctums
 there is moaning, and a fearful snapping of the boughs
 oh the howling winds  
 the dogs and I now silent in the house  
 in awe hiding in the most distant space

I Never Danced

I never danced not a stride
 hard as I tried
the rhythm and the songs
 pushed two left feet along
ever turning to the right
 but I watched you in the midnight light.

A spin, a twirl
 along the wood dance floor
while others watched
 I eyed the clock
your shoes never touching down
 and my efforts more like a clown.

The music played a quickstep, waltz, and foxtrot
 but the rhythm escapes me the dancer forever not
so I sit, a wallflower, waiting sad face
 observing the melodic rhythm flow to your taste
but when the night is over and done
 it's me and you alone the lover won.

Misplacing China

I've almost forgotten it.
It got too big -
holes appeared,
entire towns fell through them.

The Forbidden City
is a convoluted red and gold ribbon
my mind cannot now untangle.
Images float off the ink
of curling maps.
Snapshots flutter
like flags in a desert sky.

I recall in parts and pieces:
middle-aged couple’s street dancing,
no revolutionary strutting,
just Quickstep, Foxtrot,
and Bossa Nova.
The young watching,
taking notes, as if
studying for an exam.

A small one-armed boy,
riding a peddle bike
weaving through traffic,
four black cormorants strapped to his back,
necks craning out of their wicker cage
like sight-seeing dogs.

A quick look at Mongolia
through a hole in the Wall.

China got loose,
it escaped the hotels,
the tour buses, the itinerary.
It went down a crowded alley,
draped with roast ducks
and paper lanterns.

If I were to follow it,
it might lead me
to a restaurant in London,
San Francisco, or Toronto,
or like today
come together again
in the face of a girl
who sells me a phone
at Radio Shack.

The Bluebell Wood

Green velvet-covered limbs rest 
on carpet of azure and amethyst.
Chandelier light spilling out
golden shards, illuminating
figures dancing a quickstep.

Orchestra on the wing, melodic,
worshipping delights of Spring.
Whispering of huge, ancient oaks,
fluttering green foliage, re-birth,
emerging from winter’s long gestation.

Tall, strong trunks, feet entrenched
in earth, covered by nodding heads.
Arms reaching to the sky, forming
a haven, an umbrella, a shelter
for all who stay or just pass by.

Sit awhile, listen, these giants
have wisdom, ancient sages.
Breathe in scent, absorb the hues,
let nature’s beauty calm the soul,
with more power than human remedy.  


Ruth Mawdsley
29-4-18

Me

 
Me
Written: by: Tom Wright
5/8/99

Webs of deceit "Me" does weave
"Me" gets his way while others grieve.

"Me" appears void of all understanding
The more we do, the more "Me” is demanding.

Quickstep world, to "Me” is drumbeat today
There's a right way, a wrong way, and "Me” is way.

Tell "Me" another logical way to be
other than in lockstep with "Me"?

"Me" finds no I in TEAM you see
But correctly spelled would be teaME.

I Can Make You Dance

I can make you dance
 hum to songs sang soft or loud beneath the setting sun,
 tap and clap to the quickstep jumps and turns and runs;
 you could spin and twirl and glide along the weathered floor
 feet tapping and clicking begging to do a little bit more
and as the music changes from waltz to tango
 or to ballroom extravaganza sambos and salsa fandango, 
 even disco raptured jive or the east coast swing
 you would giggle and chortle at the foolishness of life's lost spring;
but as the years slip by, quick twisted turns rocking away
 you would churn and align the dancing squares at play
 and then we'd rest these old brittle bones
 making our way together along the journey home
or you could watch 
 and I could do it,
  I could dance
   and forever keep you laughing with every stance.

Quicksand Quickstep

Sugar sand deserts
Birds flocking to mirages
Black holes' blind tango

Where I

Where we run
Where we slide with ease
Where we push forward rapidly
Where we dare to be something we most possibly could not
Where we hope in view of real failure
Where we dance
Where we scream 
Where we gaze into the heavens
Where we quickstep to the side
Where we eat and drink with thankfulness
Where we release our energy unto the world
Bright, sparkling, shining, wondrous

Where we love
Where we spin and swirl into the tornado that is endless passion
Where we swim in warm flesh
Where we can sink into one another

Where we fly
Where we soar
Where we are strong and sturdy
Where we are Spartan
Where we feel Gods energy slam into us
Where we burst forth with laughter at the gift

Where we breathe
Ever so slowly
Ever so gently
Where we hold a hand
Where we wipe a tear
Where we wrap arms around another
And pull sorrow away
Where we are noble
Where we are majestic
Where we are the purest of creatures created

Where I remember
Where I reclaim
Where I am reminded of truth
Where I am witness to giving
Where I sway with the trees
Where I attack
Where I retreat
Where I forgive
Where I let go
Where I close my eyes
Where I pause
Where I stop

:)

It’s nice to be back to where I belong. Oh, how I missed the quickstep of poetry!

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