Best Dance Poems

If you die before me
I would jump down into your grave
and hug you so innocently
that angels will become jealous.
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To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
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In Hawaii they Hula
They Tango in Argentina
They Reggae in Jamaica
And they Rumba down in Cuba,
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I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue busses,
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Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
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When I bring to you colored toys, my child,
I understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water,
and why flowers are painted in tints
- -when I give colored toys to you, my child.
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With two white roses on her breasts,
White candles at head and feet,
Dark Madonna of the grave she rests;
Lord Death has found her sweet.
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Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult.
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.
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Poems without readers
Are like lonely wallflowers
On the wide dance floor.
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Then Almitra spoke again and said, 'And what of Marriage, master? '

And he answered saying:

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
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Dance, dance!
With the muse of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the rhythm of Africa;
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You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
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But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming,
In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,
In pits and dens and shades of death, in shapes of torment and woe:
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Dance little baby, dance up high,
Never mind baby, mother is by;
Crow and caper, caper and crow,
There little baby, there you go;
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I walked through a Forest, beneath the hot noon,
On Etheline calling and calling!
One said: "She will hear you and come to you soon,
When the coolness, my brother, is falling."
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Poets Dance in the heart of rhythms
Discussion spoken in the pen
Energy being tampered with in the music
Limitations rarely occur in audio-silence
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A little black thing in the snow,
Crying 'weep! weep! ' in notes of woe!
'Where are thy father and mother? Say! '-
'They are both gone up to the church to pray.
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The flowers bloom all days and nights long
Spread sense enchanting sweet perfumes,
The butterflies fly on their colorful wings
And sit on the petals to suck secretions;
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A crippled child
Said, “How shall I dance?”
Let your heart dance
We said.
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Since thou readest in her what thou thyself hast there written,
And, to gladden the eye, placest her wonders in groups;--
Since o'er her boundless expanses thy cords to extend thou art able,
Thou dost think that thy mind wonderful Nature can grasp.
...

the fibres give in to your starry warmth
a lamp is called green and sees
carefully stepping into a season of fever
the wind has swept the rivers' magic
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The age demanded that we sing
And cut away our tongue.

The age demanded that we flow
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My little heart, my little girl.
Dance with Daddy; dance, my pearl.
Hold my hand; dance with feet.
Sing a little song; dance with beat.
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Maiden-poet, come with me
To the heaped up cairn of Maeve,
And there we'll dance a fairy dance
Upon a fairy's grave.
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THE cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
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Spatial depths of being survive
The birth to death recurrences
Of feet dancing on earth of sand;
Vibrations of the dance survive
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Now shall I walk
Or shall I ride?
"Ride", Pleasure said;
"Walk", Joy replied.
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But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming,
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What's greater, Pebble or Pond?
What can be known? The Unknown.
My true self runs toward a Hill
More! O More! visible.
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Looked forward to the Saturday Night dance
We did, all dressed up to 'shine',
With winkle picker shoes, and layers of net
In our petticoats. We felt divine.
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Come, my darling, let us dance
To the moon that beckons us
To dissolve our love in trance
Heedless of the hideous
...

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'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity,
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THE girl goes dancing there
On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth
Grass plot of the garden;
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I remember I put on my socks,
I remember I put on my shoes.
I remember I put on my tie
That was painted
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Danny O'Dare, the dancin' bear,
Ran away from the County Fair,
Ran right up to my back stair
And thought he'd do some dancin' there.
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The birds sing with lyrical affluence,
The butterflies dance in thrilling indulgence,
The breeze whistles in frisky cheerfulness,
The spring rejoices in her own opulence!
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Go little book,
To him who, on a lute with horns of pearl,
Sang of the white feet of the Golden Girl:
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I met you in a poem, dark leaves fell.
Sun rode the swift tide of November fields.
Gray power enclosed the music of the form.
White trees startled the rhythm of quatrains.
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It was hot, so hot, before the eunuchs came
To dance, wide skirts going round and round, cymbals
Richly clashing, and anklets jingling, jingling
Jingling... Beneath the fiery gulmohur, with
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At the hole where he went in
Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:
"Nag, come up and dance with death! "
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When I bring you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there
is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are
painted in tints-when I give coloured toys to you, my child.
When I sing to make you dance, I truly know why there is music
...

dance the river is there to rise
dance touch me and close your eyes
dance the winds will touch your feet
just dance and dance feel the beat
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In a beautiful valley
With snow on a mountain top
flowing spring between the trees
meadows grazed by horses and sheep
...

Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-grumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
...

Snowflakes are falling like a gift of white.
The classic landscape burns incessant, bright.
Old panes picture, literally, scores of frost.
No single note of music has been lost.
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WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.
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As in one's hand a lighted match blinds you before
it comes aflame and sends out brilliant flickering
tongues to every side - so, within the ring of the
spectators, her dance begins in hasty, heated rhythms
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The Mountains
A land of sombre, silent hills, where mountain cattle go
By twisted tracks, on sidelings deep, where giant gum trees grow
And the wind replies, in the river oaks, to the song of the stream below.
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The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.
...

in my last birth
i was all in all
a tagore...a bharathi
all in me...an all in all POET
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At last! I am alone! Nothing can be heard but the rumbling of a few belated and weary cabs. For a few hours at least silence will be ours, if not sleep. At last! The tyranny of the human face has disappeared, and now there will be no one but myself to make me suffer.

At last! I am allowed to relax in a bath of darkness! First a double turn of the key in the lock. This turn of the key will, it seems to me, increase my solitude and strengthen the barricades that, for the moment, separate me from the world.
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When Summers blue sky fades to grey
And swiftly ends the shortening day,
When coldness takes the flowers away
Ill dance the dance of winter!
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I am not a danseuse but a dance,
I am not a singer but a song,
I am not a poetess but a poem,
I am not an artiste but an art!
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Aphrodisiac zebra dance
silence……………..> on-no into tune twin
Aphrodite mood in love!
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'Will you walk a little faster?' said a whiting to a snail,
'There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
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Well hey Miss Go-Go won't you stop for a minute
Cause the song you dance to it got somethin' in it
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Poetry is another world
Like the sea and the ocean
Some learned to dance
With its rhythm and mysteries
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I dance for the love

I dance even when I feel pain
I dance knowing there's something to gain
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Exquisite poetry rendered
In music gripping the heart
And dance eloquent
Merge par excellence.
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O You Educators! ! !
Teach not a flyingbird to swim

Ask not a bird to burrow
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Dance unto the light,
Sway to the sounds of time,
Watch the angels bright,
As they dance within your mind.
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Go to that impenetrable realm
That death himself trembles to look upon.
There plays the fountain of love
With swans sporting on its waters.
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Party in the sky

You are invited to a splendid party, high in the sky
It is the best of the season you cant deny
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The fishermen on Lake Michigan, sometimes,
For kicks, they spit two hunks of bait on hooks
At either end of a single length of line
And toss that up among the scavenging gulls,
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I ride on your thighs, and I embrace you with my both hands
The wind scraps our deep love dance off with the sudden gusts.
Our swift flicks it several times, its tip just touching the wet sand.
The sky is blue and leaves of our tree are covered with orange rust.
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The cool breeze of spring

Does not annoy anyone
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Dewdrops and starlight
danced in my being,
deep down in the valley of my soul.
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Only ate one drumstick
At the picnic dance this summer,
Just one little drumstick--
They say I couldn't be dumber.
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Freedom is what you all seek

And freedom will you have
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Lets Dance To The Tune Of Lust

The world says hush
It's not the time to rush
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Oranges and grapes refuse to grow in the cold.
Today I sing and dance, refuse to grow old.
Yet all the same, time is tyrant and ruthless,
Unfolds my wrinkling years, it is relentless.
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Don't say you're not important, it simply isn't true,
The fact that you were born, is proof that God has a plan for you.
Live your life not because you need to but because you want to,
For once don't think of others think of you.
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When country fiddlers held a convention in
Danville, the big money went to a barn dance
artist who played Turkey in the Straw, with
variations.
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A land, as far as the eye can see, where the waving grasses grow
Or the plains are blackened and burnt and bare, where the false mirages go
Like shifting symbols of hope deferred - land where you never know.
...

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Wow---
I have found my rhythm
I have escaped from the dungeon
I hold in my hand pure sunlight
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The tongue, in dance
Vibrates the air molecule
To run as a wave.
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There is a land
where Dreams dance
in tremendous joy.
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Evening shadows
play last symphony to say
goodbye to the sun.
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THE INDIFFERENT.

COME to the dance with me, come with me, fair one!
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These grand and fatal movements toward death: the grandeur
of the mass
Makes pity a fool, the tearing pity
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Forget the dancer.
Kill ego.
Go to the core of ego.
Become humble.
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let me write to you a love poem
then i will make you its hero
i just wanna know when can i write it
coz when i am with you
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Dance with the red beauty
Splendid ‘Salvia Splendens'!
Dance with the cool breeze,
Sprightly, bubbly and wavy!
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The most popular and and the most old dance
Ancient Kalinga Kingdom has gifted to the world,
This is the Danda Nata, the dance festival of people,
In this season of Danda Nata monsoon of music flows
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Like the wet grass

Moist with the downpour
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Seventeen years have passed,
Since you made your transition, dearest Mom!
From this world of earthly pleasures,
Far, far away from me, and your family!
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When spring season is on
and when the birds are singing songs
When buds are ready to bloom
And bees start hovering
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Because of what you have done
every dawn can be as this one—
as fresh, as clean, as full of expectancy and color.
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My Humble Tribute
For Your Happy BirthDay, Dearest Dr. Geeta Ji

As the Prologue i take some themes from your Poem Mohiniattam 1:
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Atop the lake today splayed a dancing
Net of flickering sparkly bright gems, the sun
And breeze playing duet, I stood entranced
As water teemed alive. Light, having fun
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Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air,
Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair,
Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot,
And murmur soft 'She will, or she will not.'
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Dance!
Dance!
The priest is yellow with sunflower meal,
He is yellow with corn-meal,
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Respected poetess madam
Legend Star (किंवदंती सितारा)Valsa George

[Note: This review letter is World Poetry Day Special Comprehensive Review published on date 21st March 2019 and Gift given on Occasion of Happy Holi Celebration for date 22nd March 2019]
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Fragrant summer blooms
Come in captivating crowds
Sweet butterflies dance.
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Dance,
these boughs and branches
sway,
revelry at the midday,
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The poplars in the fields of France
Are golden ladies come to dance;
But yet to see them there is none
But I and the September sun.
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A dance is a poem
Gestured through
The body language
And its signs and symbols,
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