Short Flamenco Poems
Short Flamenco Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Flamenco by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Flamenco by length and keyword.
Tania
There was a young lady named Tania
Who wanted to dance in Espania
She really let go
Doing the flamenco
And her whirling, it nicely did fan yer
There was an old camel from Bahrain
who sought adventures far off in Spain.
He made plans to sightsee
and ordered cups of tea
then danced the flamenco on the plane.
maria valdez, ultimate flamenco dancer
wearing her mother’s embroidered satin dress
dazzling us with ruffles we had not seen for twenty years
no one loved it more than her mama
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
A flamenco dancer in Spain
encountered a nun in the rain.
He shouted,' Olé.'
Her fingers astray,
she grunted, 'I'm coming again.'
Just some silliness, written today for Andrea's limerick contest
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
It was not a night for work
the moon was at the full
high over the sea
erotic and disturbing
l could hear the gypsy singer in the tavern below
self assured as usual she had a slightly distant air about her !
It was not a night for work
the moon was at the full
high over the sea
erotic and disturbing
l could hear the gypsy singer in the tavern below
self assured as usual she had a slightly distant air about her !
Charcoal sky and wandering wind
branches bend and strain
leaves gently glide toward solid ground
misty rain drops dance
as a morning flamenco on glistening blades of grass
an eternal dance of dawn's awakening
Benny was a high living’ bon vivant
Who ran around with his crazy old aunt
They traveled many countries afar
Playing Spanish flamenco guitar
Until she married a man named Ben Brandt
written September 30, 2021
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
Limerick : Once a Senorita from Sevilla – 5
Once a Senorita from Sevilla
Learned Flamenco to strut at Feria
Eyes flashed to kill gallants
Bitten by red hot ants
Now at ferias she sells tortia.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
That sassy young lassie from Savannah
She wound up in Cuba's old Havana
Playing fine flamenco guitars
Rolling pricey high-class cigars
And shacking with men in her cabana.
written June 23, 2021
Dancing on the fringes
waltzing through the fire
Tango once the step of choice
driven by desire
Life a dark flamenco
words to not intrude
Motion trumping conscious thought
—foxtrot interlude
(Dreamsleep: August, 2022)
the owl-eyed cat
sleeps quietly
near my
Spanish blue guitar
while one eye
peeled open
to watch the
gray mouse afar
that dance across
the six tender
nylon strings that
clap the castanet
in both hands
as she performs
that old Spanish
flamenco dance
Written by Gail DeBole
January 20, 2020
A flock of Flamingos so pink
Had feathers that made people blink.
They group-danced with heads high
In a Flamenco style.
Ate shrimp, algae, and water to drink.
Author's Note: The type of food affects the color of the feathers.
Joy and sorrow in staccato
Feet strike the floor
Heel and toe
Pounding from the knee
Kicking up the skirt
Hips sway
Spine arches
Arms encircle the body
Wringing and unfurling
Elbows raised
Wrists and fingers twist and rotate
Hands fling high
Eyes cast down
Cante and compas
Toque and palmas
In passion and anguish
Duende
the rain is
now dancing
on my roof
sounding
like
flamenco
but i want
to with you
dance a tango
a rose
in my teeth
a rose
in my arms
as well as
in my feet
dipping you
down
not
wanting to
bring you up
but
rather let
you slip
down
to the ground
where we will
dance
romantically
tangoing on
the floor
Form:
Three doves,
In the caress,
of evening,
One dove,
In the grove,
Dancing,
With flamenco flair,
With a lovely lady,
One dove,
In a maple tree,
Caressing,
A nightingales song,
One dove,
In the moonglow,
Its wings like champagne,
Waxing its luminous dress,
Three doves,
In love,
In the damp vibrant shores,
Of evening
Reynaldo Casison
I miss you, beautiful Granada
Your snow-capped Sierra Nevada
Your fountains and sweet sparkling water
Your olive groves at the foot of Nevada
And orange trees all over Granada
Your history is like no other
The view of the splendid al Hambra
High up on the hill is preciosa
Your flamenco is more flamboyant than the lambada
Oh Granada, Granada
When will we meet again Granada!
Spanish guitar music tape
murmuring hands on a lap
rises to cuddle a ringing tone
intone spanic delusional red rown
flamenco dancer in a paint'd gawn
canary islands inherited thrown
an a mild sadness in th' music rhyme
takes beyond thou memories line
to a place that's calm, gentle an fine
keeps your eyes open an kind
to finally get up an bind
a puff of wind of cherry rind
A juerga with flamenco guitars,
With fires blooming like red flowers,
Corpses dancing in moonlight
The dance of wounded souls,
Vibrant red dresses
White shirts like birds,
Falling shawls,
Dancers,
Sky,
Claps,
Cubic
Movements of
Color, music's
Seeds, hands being wings
In shadows on the wall,
From soul detaching passion's
Lights, motion vibrating the string,
Resonance for a new dimension.
Oh, such amorous flamenco
A bailaora who whirls fervidly
Nascent paltriness, a winged coo
Unruffled yet sways seamlessly
To grasp is to grin and bear it
To ace is quite an arduous drill
To master is to act with grit
And delectate the peachy whirl
One oblique pennant of breath
Suchlike to humane multitude
Defiance from old shibboleth
A vagueness of life’s certitude
09.23.17
He plays his guitar under moonlight
The stars align and she arrives
In her long red dress, with a rose in her hair
Emerald eyes, Long black hair
She takes his breath away
She starts to dance to his rhythm
With each step and gesture, Passion fills the air
His heart beats faster
As her eyes gaze upon him with a smile
They play and dance to each other
For they speak the language of their love
The language of Flamenco
In a long red skirt, with a great big smile,
Our young senorita danced,
Doing all the moves in Flamenco style,
For third graders, quite advanced.
Though we watched on screen, it was pure delight
As they clapped and stomped and moved.
That six lessons (wow!) led to such a night,
To my mind (and others) proved
That when those in charge have the kind of smarts
And the funding to expose
Kids in school to various types of arts,
The results are too joyful for prose.