Short Castanets Poems
Short Castanets Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Castanets by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Castanets by length and keyword.
limp scarecrows slumber
a darkened cornfield crackles
moonlight castanets
7/2/2021
Bite Size Poem #10 Poetry Contest
Castanets blazing, she twists the dress in dangerous ways
Feeling eyes on her, she is compelled to be a bit more provocative
I keep silent that she is my mother
To the rhythm of Spanish castanets
The tempestuous autumn wind
beat the mosaic of colorful leaves
into a twirling, swirling flamenco dance
© Brenda V Northeast rewrite- 24th 2012 - 26/05/08
Around fires of desire -- danced she
Dark-eyed beauty captures his soul
Castanets and stormy feet
Flailed to fiery beat
Encountered heart tones
Chords--Unrobed heat
Guitar strings
Kissed by
Song
Her lightning fast moves mesmerized me
she’s the fastest flamenco dancer in Seville someone whispered
well practiced whirls of pinks and oranges captivated her audience
without fans, shawls or castanets
ruffled high-heeled, high-haired
the Mexican diva begins the dance
her partner concentrating on her beauty
stepping automatically to the best music
welcome to the flamenco, with castanets
and jazzy snapping happy feet
Bull-black boots
stamping
like beating skin-tight drums
steel capped
with arched hands
clanking castanets
with crimson coronations
like a goldfinch neck
A guitar's fevered fret
crescendos
a rite of spring
kicking dust from bloodied boots
stomps off the romany's yoke
Autumn waits on the back of September’s wings /
transforms her green to enviable hues /
the castanets of crickets like shamans sing,
chant to the moon ~ their hallowed muse.
Original date: September 19, 2022 revised on Sept. 22, 2022 for contest
For: September Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Placed 3rd in contest
I hear the crackling beat of
Castanets and fast strumming guitars
As autumns blustery storm lifts
Fallen red, yellow and orange leaves
Twisting and twirling them like a Gypsy girl’s skirt
As she dances around campfire flames.
Autumn Splendor -contest by- Russell Sivey
© Brenda V Northeast – a rewrite 30/08/2012 - (first written 26/05/08)
Clap your hands and move to the music,
bang the castanets and sway
back and forth with the rhythm.
Hear the music and take part
in the dance
don't you hear it?
Let's dance again
one more happy moment
before the night comes to an end
and we say that final goodbye
let's dance again
just one more time.
just three simple lines
everything you do Haiku
fishing for foibles
a dog and three pigs
coated in a wallow coat
awaiting the rain
worms, hula dancing
tiny umbrellas shield them
SPF 50
a lonely sand crab
dances with castanets
as seagull’s tango
an old pond
a cricket jumps
the sound of Basho’s frog
John G. Lawless
©2/10/2023
showers of castanets
on a tin roof
a stop-over for the night
on the longest hike
a bushel of owls
in each drip of rain
aftershocks of mice nibbling through
the wires of a sleepless mind
listening
through ear shaped microphones
pigeons scrabble overhead
then clatter as they take off
the rain softens toward dawn
to a ten second splish
time to move on
Harps cling to clicking castanets, swinging Latino takes a flip.
Acoustics aspire delirium, you treat me like Salsa and shake a hip.
Rainbow across the sky appears, six years become a sixty more.
Saccharine sweetens with your friendship, with good times together spent galore.
Having iced tea on lemon grass; watching your graceful dancing flair
A rickety chair sways my aged bones, finally should I lay my soul bare.
.
thuh percussionists
each beats
theirn
bongoz
castanets
harps
theirn pluck
your
hips mine
'gainst
stuck'd
The rain dashed itself against the asphalt.
Angled, silver, shards, pummeled the pavement,
Pelted puddles in a staccato rhythm.
Rapidly expanding and contracting circles,
Cha cha-ed to the sound of castanets.
Drain grills gaped and filled gurgling.
Geysers erupted from the centrifugal spin of tires.
The din of tin-tapped metal brightened the air.
And with the lushness of life and rebirth;
A spring day dawned.
Yes, I am frightened.
I am frightened of being frightened.
My unsound mind,
dwells among dark shadows quaffing silence,
where the quadriplegic dead beckon,
a sea spewing out skeletal remains
of ancient swimmers.
Sounds of calcified castanets haunt my dreams.
Accusatory cranial eyes stare at me
and bony fingers point in my direction.
My crimson blood turns blue.
Oh! The fear, the fright that one day
I too will become unfleshed like them.
Happy Birthday,
Chiquita Bonita,
you’re so rare ,
with your arms up high and a clap,
striking the castanets,
dancing in tempo striking the floor with flair.
You still have your true youth,
with a few gray hairs and not a care,
but still have the kids.
So a bouquet of Yellow Roses
for this girl that lives in Texas…
and a
Happy Birthday
before she’s making her getaway……
10/7/2016
Spanish Night
Dance through the flames
Flamenco blood flows through her veins
Wear the Spanish red dress
Piano black hair and burgundy red lips
Dance in your black heels, footwork and guitar
The Flamenco dance is what you are
You are the melody in the matador’s red cape
Dancing wildflower and sparkling red flames
Castanets twirl in your hands like a bright sword
Beat your tambourine, stump your feet and clap your hands
Spanish night, Flamenco blood flows through her veins