Poetry Blogs (Dance)

When people see a spectacular dancer,
They say, “Oh, that’s poetry in motion!”

And then they might see a moving painting,
And say, “That painting says it all—It’s like a poem!”

And good musicians are just considered poets.
I mean, Bob Dylan won a God-damned Nobel Prize
In literature, didn’t he?

But it doesn’t stop there. I’ve heard motorcycle
Races described at “pure poetry in action...

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NO MORE CHANCES TO WIN 

GAME IS OVER, MY DEAR 

THE CHANCE IS ONLY ONE 

YOU MISSED IT LAST YEAR 

NO MORE TIME TO PLAY 

SAME GAME FROM THE BEGINNING 

I DON'T WANT TO STAY 

TO WATCH YOU, MY DARLING 

NO NEED TO WAIT FOR THE END 

NO MORE CHANGES TO COME 

GOOD BYE.. SEE YOU MY FRIEND 

NO DANCE WHERE NO "DRUMS" 
 

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Nancy comes in my dreams 

Like a fairy of Disney Land 

Have two wings and song 

Touch hearts with no band 

Nancy comes from the moon 

Where the lovely stars shining 

Calls me to join the song 

And to share her in the dancing 

Nancy, I love you so much 

Can you call me only once? 

Don't keep me in dreams 

Just come in real to dance 
 

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How do you help
loved ones that
insist on 
tap dancing
with the demon 
of addiction?

I want to scold
them like a child
for their own good,

but I know it 
would fall
on deaf ears.

I want to hold them
tight, tell them
everything will
be alright, but
they aren't buying 
that lie.

Is my only option
to waltz around 
my candy-coated world 
and watch them
self-destruct?

I...

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Preamble: for this Saturday's theme of DANCE.

I hear music. The beat begins.

It taps gently at my consciousness and slowly enters in.

It slides through my skull like the lift of warm caffeine

Raising pulse, slowing thoughts, it’s as if I’m in a dream…

Step by step I’m vanquished, it takes over my brain

It numbs my higher functions, until nothing remains

But the essence of...

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Sycamore leaves dance

In only the lightest breeze

They never turn askance

Like leaves on other trees

Sycamore leaves flair

Within their perfect ballet

In just the lightest air

Blowing up the valley

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Its midnight

And all we are going to do is dance

We can’t drink anymore

We drank until we

had our fill

Now the beat of the music controls us

We couldn’t be still even if we wanted to be

The rhythm has us in its grip

And all we can do is dance

Just dance – moves our bodies in time with the tune

Its to loud to make conversation

And there are no words that we need

...

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They dance in the shadows
Made by the trees
Branches stretched out
With long fingers
Claw like, grabbing
Taking a hold
And ripping at the soul
They dance
On the beaches
As the waves
Wash over them
Dragging them under
Taking their breath away
Saturated, sodden
Soaked to the skin
They dance
On a knife edge
Broken glass under feet
Bloodshot eyes
Roses and chocolate
A torn tapestry
...

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I have a face

But it’s not my face

It’s a face with flawless skin

And I have eyes

But they're not my eyes

Lined in black

With upraised wings

And the glitter and gold above them

Is not mine either

Shimmering and throwing light

When I blink

And I smile

But it’s not my smile

A practiced smile framed with bright red lips

That are not mine either

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The flower grew within, the fumes were fornicated. Bastards grew on paper, spilt ink spread their legs to the core of chaos. Thus the evil brewed bombs. You don’t see a shadow in the dark docile day. Only when it burns you can see your damned skin and the fire. The shadow of a truth turning grey, sat beside by the yellow day!

PC: Unknown

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All around me the fog dances 

I look on to see as it tests its chances 

Waiting for me to open the gate 

It waits 

I stare at it as it does the same 

I take a step closer it watches 

I take another 

It's eyes slightly bigger 

I stop 

I open my mouth to speak 

Nothing comes out 

The fog whispers do not 

I stay where I stand  

Not daring a step 

It's fingers...

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Pavane

When I am a sculptor, famed

in the shadow of Moore or

Hepworth, I shall fashion

in black marble an image of eternity;

Aphrodite shall dance a slow pavane

without her customary passion, and

shall shine within the foaming waters

of this brutal and ungodly Earth.

Chris Hubbard

Budapest

2016.

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The @Facebook/DreamAcademy trying to persuade ,one not to believe in fickle dreams changing from moment to moment. No, theirs is a slightly more challenging Powermove , they came to restore the magic of the wonder found in every waking moment ,every step in the amazing footwork ,the flips and windmills etc all captured forever in the mind and heart of our magnificent, hauntingly creative , "too co...

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We wade though the bright grass

Tired, footsore, happy

Hearing a bird calling by the reeds

Notes curling amongst themselves,

Spinning through the warm air

Distantly, traffic busies itself,

Here, tranquillity reigns,

After a full night dancing,

We walk.

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Dance Dance

I may when the sun comes up

To the worlds glorious rise

To her chant, her breath, her freedom

Her nurturing boundaries

Such nectar,

Dance Dance

I may when the sun comes up

In the evening I shall rest

Rest inside her sweet surrender

Contented to my soil rich roots

For the world has been my playground

Dance Dance

I may when the sun comes u...

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One day I'll meet you In that place!!

I don't take drugs

I tried a couple times

So I can tell you what it feels like

I don't drink

Probably all the sips I've ever had

Could amount to 2 glasses of white wine and those sambuca shots when I was 17yrs old!

I love dancing

I don't seem to do it much 

But I love moving 

That I do everyday with Yoga

I love fashion and...

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Sway to the winds

Hoover over the plains of unwritten avenues

Brush away all misconceptions

Death to ifs and maybes

Lay with me in this tornado gliding to the designated mark that is love

Dance with me

Join me in my pursuit of you…of us

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You come and you go

astressed with the trade winds

Tiny ghost dancer

flows to my head

clear and timed

tastes of sparkling ciders melt in my eye

attempting to leave no trace

I hold the proof of our a-cult

reforming love 

vitalizing movements seize life

breath exits as I consumed you

as glass inherits my soul 

timed and clear

breakable in an extraterrestrial se...

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Had a prompt from our writing group last time of "

If you dance to the music, you’ll find yourself…" so I thought I'd give it a go, although I've not mentioned the prompt anywhere in the piece!

If you dance to the music, you’ll find yourself…

I can’t dance.

Anyone that takes a glance

Will see me prance and realise

That I can’t dance.

My Macarena is more macaroni

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the cuckoo waltz

two men

dancing  around

each other

their movement

smooth and fluid

Instinctively

knowing

where the others

feet, hands, eyes,

words, gestures,

will land

one will lead

then the other

a steady

interchange

juxtaposition

of fool, clown,

idiot, hero

a knowing look

a fleeting glance

of shame

...

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The Ballad Of Billy Nomates

You were bigger than a bus,

with a face as red as Martian dust

and a neck that started somewhere in your crown.

I was small and insecure,

as I approached the guarded door,

knowing that you were about to put me down.

You were giving me that look

that said you couldn’t give a fuck

for my need to get beyond the ticket box.

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12/1/12

Ripples in the water. Forever bouncing. The transformation from Sea to Land. The water. a Constant Surge. Pulsating Tides. those Building Blocks. Keeping a foundation grounded. The motive behind the pen.

_______----_____________-----_____________----_____________----_______

Are we all just words in a pictionary born again to have meaning? The reality I belong to ...

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The beginning is timid
time has not any limit.
magic movements are slow,
we dance the tango of love.

It's the music of feelings,
bliss and passion revealing,
dance of flight and explosion
of hidden love.

When we part it’s only for a moment
Dance of love will never end, be sure.

The beginning is timid
and it's not so vivid,
then it turns into wild
and grasping dan...

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We’re pleased to announce the following promotions for our 24th September OpenMind event at Fuel Cafe Bar.

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Take a look at the poster for our OpenMind: Slamming September event at Fuel on Monday 24th September.

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I met a woman at the Blue Nile.

Our first encounter was her attempting to kiss my face. She seems to be in her mid-late fifties/early sixties. She began to tell me that she is okay, over and over again. She began to cry. She told  me her sun died. He OD'ed at 39 years old. She watched him die, with his head between the toilet and the sink. Her other sun blamed his brother's death on her. Sh...

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I like the moment when my hand
opens up a window to the unknown

polar winds, a vintage of lifetimes and stories,
now caressing my combusting skin.

For an instant, we are sand: constrained and
docile to the invisibility of our surroundings.

A neon moon brings me in touch with my
most primitive instincts: claiming ownership of

the next wrong step and a turn that is a season too late.
Cha cha cha... Your h...

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£10 POEM

Things got too far after I had 2 cans at home and three pints in various pubs.                                                           

Five pints in the pub made me merry.                                                                                                               

So when a dickhead in a light blue denim shirt opened the door of our car I was like...

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