Short Castanets Poems

limp scarecrows slumber
a darkened cornfield crackles
moonlight castanets

7/2/2021

Bite Size Poem #10 Poetry Contest...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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
...

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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...

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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)...

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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....

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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...

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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...

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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....

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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....

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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...

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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...

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