Dance poems that glorify this great art form through poetry. This collection of poems capture an array of emotions that are related to dancing. Poems where dance becomes expression, or a metaphor of free spirits, where dance portrays happiness or the celebration of pain. The perspectives poets have gives to this art form are unique and beautifully placed. You are sure to love all these poems on dance and dancing. Because life is a stage and we are all performing our own different dances to the beat of the breath.
Poverty constrains, To take the risks, Hunger forces them to bring, Their innocent daughters, On the streets of hungry men, The girls under thirteen, Not yet an adult, Exploiting and exposing, Their boy like bodies, With a long stick in
Ghosts dance dark in hallowed places, see them wear familiar faces? With their art my calmness chases and I can quit them not at all. Whirling to some music haunted, dancing while my mind is taunted I bolster but they
Hindsight of the past 3 years, Reveal the growth of a new face. The first instance of accidental “touch”- Perhaps Fate knocking on our doors. There onwards, The pages of my journal Were crusted with memoirs That stirred the soul.
This is mine not yours I control every force. Take it easy and share Selfishness is not fair. Greedy declare Ownership, to build Castles on sand. Waves smoothly Shave castles and run. Systems of a fool Abide by harsh rule.
Rainbow-colored butterflies fluttering around- And shades of spring, are the kimono girls Dark like blackbirds and ravens are their hair Fair is their skin, round like the full moon Their eyes like stars of Arabian nights glow Their dance gentle
Dance of the Cobra In the shadow of a Supernova Somewhere in the Mist of the Sea Desire encircling You and me The smell of you is Intoxicating and has me Rising to the occasion Tonight as do Your eye’s
Life, Who can’t dance to your tunes? Today you make us smile, Tomorrow the pain is unbearable, The day after that, We are filthy rich, A month later, We cannot afford three meals a day… What game are you playing
Ever close close together ever fast in our embrace. We have lived lived a lifetime always danced at life’s fast pace. Danced to tunes tunes remembered that for us will never fade. Knowing now our time is ending yet, come
She drags her tired heels across the tainted floor Her poise held taut though her back is sore She holds on her face a cold marble stare A hard life engraved upon cheeks once so fair Her movements; once grace
On a cloudy day The grass plants were dancing with the air, laying on the green carpet of grass while travelling within me Pain wave origin from heart Like a deadly storm in a desert The crushing waves of pain
Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Music of September, I still retain. We met in the greenery, A wet, lovely scenery, A teen age romance, The music and dance. Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Magic of September, Your shyness,
He jumps, engages in acrobatic feats Drunken by coded chants and drumming Enraptured beyond mortal realm His ego tickled and heightened Gleefully he responds to each call Awed onlookers shudder and wonder At this creature with a monstrous aura With
She’ll only dance as long as you don’t watch her a heavenly symmetry in the distance between elbows, knees. Gravity is only a suggestion while she progresses through nameless steps, her unplucked body stepping across thresholds billions of sisters have
A cold deserted alleyway, dark as a desolate grave, away off in the distance dogs howling their dismay. A winter wind is gathering, blowing old papers away, with tired forgotten faces and news of yesterday. Discarded cans and bottles clatter
Down memory lane I traveled, at the first corner of endless street I met almond eyes dimpled cheeks silk soft tresses My First Poem –She!! further down at the second corner nostalgic charm lyrical beauty simple smile My Second Poem
A fire of passion Burns inside me Eyes twinkle in mischief Longing to explore The bond of unknown. Heart pounds within As the lost soul Awakens the love From pain to delight Of my lively self. The pulse of passion
Enchanted little twig Sweet bundle of happiness With twinkles in your eye The darkness fades off from my world With rosy glitters of your cheeks My worries floats upon the breeze With sweet music of your giggles Waves dance inside
Death; The Dealer of the final deck of life. No hidden agendas, just a cold slate to wipe. With hand and sword or with rock and stone, with shaft sailing deadly through grey skies, alone. The smarter the weapon, the
The incessant lapping of ripples, Sounds of waves that swell and fade, Mask all the murmurs and whispers Of amblers on the moonlit promenade. The hovering darkness of the night, Ignored by the roaring sea outright, Rising and falling to
The warmest place is where the heart stays Where sweet memories abide This house of old, creaking timber and leaking roof Where in the courtyard stands my trusty friend Its boughs swaying in the path of the north wind And
Desire says -Want to be a free spirit, live life like a snippet, sing a carefree lyric, be an inspirational lithic. Desire says-Want to fly high, in the seamless sky, be happy to soar far away, cross miles with no
I feel the tiredness of my years, those quiet times when breath appears in melting mosaic imagery, upon the mirrors of a sea that only calls so many names, through pious sunlit tortured flames that scrape themselves away from light,
The heart of a male romantic expresses his feelings born from his own pen rather then purchased in a card He is moved to comfort the one who holds his adoring gaze He will make her feet float softly on
We often wear the masks to hide, To fit in more, to better survive. Hide behind the complicated smiles, Confident, no one would catch our lies. Nothing seems a bit real now, Even the shadow now takes a bow. We
Descending schools of clear droplets wash away yesterday, Thunder bellows and shakes …stirs thoughts adrift in the distance, trickles of fine creeks merge on the bedroom window pane. ..and I reflect back to a man…an essential friend… His last night.
The pages of a book, the leaves of a life. Pictures of a love overcoming strife Moments in time, captured for posterity Reminders of a past filled with love and hilarity Memories are all that the pages now hold Dreams
Happiness; It surfaces daily, in no definite forms. A kind act, a warm touch, A gurgling child, a day without qualms! A satisfying meal, a coffee past din, A melody that touches the core, A distant voice of a close
Sitting in a cushioned chair in his living room, absurdly comfortable, while he reads Georg Trakl’s late poems, the old man, himself a poet, drifts into a shallow sleep. He is alone in that place of Being, where desire and