Tag Archives: Dance

Come, Baby

Come baby and let us make love,
passion flies like the holy dove;
come baby and survey the scene
of beauty streaming so serene.

Come baby and let us dance slow,
time’s cold fist cannot land a blow;
come baby and regard my eyes,
pools of light netting a surprise.

Come baby and let us speak soft
words kneading fears in the mind’s loft;
come baby and let us hold hands,
steadfast mast on life’s fragile sands.

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Filed under Philosophy, Poetry, Thoughts

I Love The Way You Dance

It’s true I love the way you dance;

The grace and poise blows me away,

Let’s not leave anything to chance.

 

I may often sit in a trance

But don’t let this get in the way,

It’s true I love the way you dance.

 

And your steps do beauty enhance,

Clotting what I would like to say;

Let’s not leave anything to chance.

 

Even beyond the furtive glance

Thoughts unspoken always betray;

It’s true, I love the way you dance.

 

How can I give wind to this stance?

These lines blow and dare to convey,

Let’s not leave anything to chance.

 

If you think this poem a prance

I hope the clear gist may outweigh;

It’s true, I love the way you dance

So why leave anything to chance?

 

 

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Filed under Poetry, Thoughts

Self-Portrait on the Squash Court

SquashPortrait

 

All set for dancing on the court

I hear waltzing is a new sport,

Painting shots with undisguised glee,

Remembering to seize the “T”.

 

If body and mind worked in sync,

How smooth without having to think;

Alas, the racket has its say

Causing shock when one dares to play.

 

Yet, there are those moments that thrill,

Granted they do not overspill;

Where the ball lands as intended,

Ghastly errors quickly mended.

 

A nifty nick or well-judged lob,

Balletic boasts secure the job.

Ah yes, squash is like chess with sweat;

Deep thoughts, while the feet pirouette.

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Filed under Philosophy, Poetry, Thoughts

Dance

Take this hand

My pretty lady,

The world is spinning

And the urge is whirling

To cover the dance floor

With fleet-footed steps.

I can’t promise

What comes next,

When so much of what

I know from years observing

Is free-form at best.

 

So, just go with the flow

And who knows,

This foxtrot might just –

Grace permitting –

End up being,

With a touch of panache

And a pinch of pizzazz,

A rather touching prance

Or perchance a new kind of

Syncopated dance.

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Filed under Music, Poetry, Thoughts