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What I feel for you is akin to how the floorboards hug the wall at the corner of the ballroom.
Smothered in gleaming tile, I lie beneath, fighting to breathe at the very seams, so close to you.
I am worn, and old, and my nails are ripped to shreds as I claw my way through the throng of porcelain pink people to you.
The touch of me against the very smallest part of you is enough for me to fall still and gaze not at the dancers in their gowns but the unassuming dark corner towards which I endlessly reach.
Bhill May 9
It's been so so long
It's been so long since I saw
Since I saw life dance

Life dancing the bop and jitterbug
Life dancing to rock and roll
Life dancing to country and ballroom
Life dancing to anything
I'm sure we will experience the dance again

Brian Hill - 2020 # 129
Find your life dance.
Matthew Jan 2019
Lively and Jumping
A vibrance felt
in a Bright display
of Human Beauty

Its lights beckoning
One step forward;
Dead Darkness
Isolating me
From them
The second life lived
in the small Room
Haunting Ballads
Drag me closer
Insidious, blighted
It is forever
I'm trying to convey unsure emotion
Madeline Harper Oct 2018
As these forlorn cadences await- unfold
To compose a disbanded vow
Yielding unto harrows of gates untold
Charms death to disdainful plow

Death is plowed to a forgiving halt
While silver moonlight and whiskey dances remain
Glittering gold in this crimson vault-
Feeble souls conjure grace as graceless minds abstain

Counterfeit conceits ravish this open cellar
As the night’s last dance ceases to a disgraceful plea
The dweller’s disdain is akin to my killer
And heaven yields blood to salt the earth for thee

Come away now with your anguishing defeats
Seek not a jagged spike as the heaven’s conspire and wake
Glory and gold may turn us black as deceit
But deception admonishes the dancers in their quake

Spellbound nuances of this reality await at every turn
Mourning and fighting the finality of this grave
Orchestrated knives are rosined like honey, beckoning our blood to burn
At last, a burning reckoning comes to ravage the brave

But refrain, oh killer- host of this crimson vault
Enlist a memoir for our sins
Recalling the pieties of our gracious faults,
Enough to make this blood go thin.
This poem was abstractly written to describe a scene of death among ballroom dance and the last dancer responsible for the tragedy.
Meg Howell Mar 2018
Fragile hands,
Weathered and cracked,
Grasping onto the neck of the swan
They are tough,
Yet, all the while, their reach is gentle,
And they glide with the swan to the pond’s lively middle


Up they go

   Ricocheting off the dancing beads of
       doing the tango,
         the salsa,

            and, at last,

Charleigh Huston Mar 2017
There upon the ballroom floor;
Lights shone down -
On the couple of the evening grand -
With a choir singing their Love,
And eyes illuminated in beauty,
With stormy hearts ablaze;
That night may forever restore.
When you visit your prom this year or your next slow dance, I hope you find love within your partner's eyes. <3
mark john junor Sep 2016
frostbitten by our heated words
in the parking lot
walked home together in our separate way
along the narrow path with
a universe of silence between
you with arms folded tightly in
your ballroom gown
me carrying our plunder
in t-shirt and jeans
we steal glances at each other
where we used to steal kisses
we miss each other already......
so my words reach out to you
you take my hand
in that small gesture we once again
find the warmth we love
our souls embrace
we drift the summer night as
one starstruck heart
we tangle into each other romantically
one tender kiss as we open
the door to our home sweet home
we are one joyful laughter
we are one smile
we are lovers in our ****** bed
once again
dvalentines Aug 2016
Chatters under shimmering chandeliers
The females all made up beautifully
The males dressed to a tee
Wine glasses clinking gently

Her wavy hair flowed
Framing her face nicely
Her lips with a gentle tint of pink
Her hazel eyes scanning the scene nervously

Everyone complimented her rare femininity
Often not seen on usual days
People said
Behind those casual boyish clothes
Hid such a tender beauty

She smiled thankfully
However, unable to focus
For she was waiting to see
The one she dressed up for so zealously

There he was...
Decked in a handsome suit
His tie so neat
His hair styled the way she loved it
The smile he wore on his face
Ever more charming

Her heels clicked carefully
As she walked closer to him
Her heart raced
As the music played a slow melody...

*She saw his hand, reaching out
But it wasn't for her...
It was for another...
The girl he dances with, every day
No matter what

As the dance started
The chandelier lights dimmed
Like her heart
And she left the ballroom
Never turning back
Cyrus Gold Apr 2016
Eleven Fifty.
I see a nifty reporter fixing his tie,
Sipping in a teacup, drinking Chai.
He surveys the room for that moment of magic,
Not forgetting that the nature of his story is tragic.

He tells others that the invitation was a welcome gift,
Providing him the chance to debunk a particular myth.
The castle halls were filled with chatter and laughter
Spills of wine from wine glasses were happy disasters.

Eleven Fifty-two.
Night sky projects its color downwards,
Painting the city blue.
Stars mysteriously align with illuminating glow
As the chatter dies down, readying for a show.

With midnight approaching, beautiful words begin to appear,
engraved on the castle walls;
“you are the stars that ignite in the darkness of night.”
“…to where we stood.”
“I wish it was me.”
“I wish it was me.”
Recorded history of infinite love is all that I could see.

Eleven Fifty-Four.
A certain “Morty” is devouring shrimp to my left.
Ordering forty more, he's clearly satisfying his heft.
Our eyes meet for a second, my head nods
As if it’s a secret of his that I’ve already kept.

Eleven Fifty-Six.
It’s raining, a condition for her to “be”.
“Ooh’s” and “Ah’s” in the crowd but I can’t really see.
Time has stopped as the dance floor clears,
Anxious about this myth as midnight nears.

Eleven Fifty-Seven.
It’s not a myth at all - there she is! A living angel from heaven
Gracious in presence, magnificent in beauty,
We're staring at the star of a wonderfully vivid movie.

She’s wearing a silk-woven concoction of a crimson red dress,
A mask covering her face, necklace bears a family crest.
Legend says the people will witness her choice, hence
Her index finger points with a high-pitched voice.

Deafening silence for a moment… and then…

She picks a gentleman. That lucky *******.
Envious women are criticizing her; “Husky. *****. Witch.”
The man looks honored, almost intimidated
With her by his side, he clearly appears vindicated.

He takes her hand, and presses her body with his
And stares deeply into her eyes,
But what he saw staring back
Was a tragic tale he didn’t realize.

The music brings the Midnight Princess to life
As their spirits move in unison, like husband and wife.

They dance, and in that small infinity, I'm lost in awe
Her lovely waltz on the floor moving without a flaw
Beautifully elegant art in motion
Is all that everyone saw.

Eleven Fifty-Nine.*
*This man is running out of time.
He needs to convince her to stay
Before she vanishes away.

The myth supposedly goes like this:
If rain continues to pour past midnight,
That gentleman hopeful would be futile in his fight
For her heart, blinded by her gracious and kind sight,
Not wanting to regret his actions in hindsight.

He holds her tight, their union a great show,
But he only had a minute, forty seconds ago.
The ballroom rallies in hope for this man to catch her by his glove
As he promises her tomorrow, and proclaiming his love.

The rain is heard from inside the castle corridors
The clock strikes midnight, chiming in three sets of four
And she fades, with the audience awe-struck by the gleam
Convincing us all she was naught but a dream.

We wished it were him.
We wished it were him.
Hoped he would lift the curse.
She left him feeling worse.
They looked perfect together, but
She deserves forever.

It’s an experience witnessing magic without a fault
And she sadly hadn’t been seen ever since.
I pray she returns to dance an endless waltz
With her one and only fairy tale prince.
Dedicated to a fellow poet friend.
Nath Rye Jan 2016
Isang pinto ang nasa aking harapan.

Pintong gawa sa kahoy. Limang tao ang lapad ng pinto, at dalawan' tao ang taas nito. Dahan-dahan 'kong hinawakan ang nakausling parte.

Hinila ko. Ang bigat.

Isang engrandeng *ballroom
ang itinatago ng pintong aking pinasok. Ang una talagang mapapansin ay ang magarang wallpaper na yumayakap sa pader. Sa pinakaharap, may hagdanan na tila hari't reyna lang ang maaring gumamit. Sa bawat dulo ng hagdanan, may mga nakapatong na gintong mga dekorasyon- mga anghel at mga hayop na makikita lamang sa panaginip. Pero, mapapatingala ka talaga sa larawan ng Diyos at mga anghel na sumasakop sa buong kaitaasan ng ballroom.

Ang amoy naman, amoy ng mamahaling pagkain.
May mga lamesa at mga plato para sa mga nais kumain

Ang unang yapak ko sa loob ay sinalubong ng mga tingin mula sa mga tao sa loob. Lahat sila'y magkamukha...

magkakambal kaya?

Nilapitan ako ng waiter. May dala-dalang alak.
"Ser, gusto niyo po ba ng-"
"Bakit magkamukha kayong lahat dito?"
Lumabas lang ang mga salita sa aking bibig. Di na ako nakapaghintay.

"Ah... ser, kung gusto niyo po ang kasagutan sa tanong niyo, sigurado akong may makakapagpaliwanag sayo nang mas maayos."

At sabay siyang umalis.

Inikot ko ang ballroom. Kinausap ko ang mga tao. May mga sumasayaw, may mga kumakanta, at mayroon pang mini magic show. May mga nakabarong, iba nama'y naka tuxedo.

Naging masaya ang mga usapan, hanggang itinanong ko ang tanong ukol sa kanilang pagiging magkamukha. Pinapasa-pasa lang nila ang tanong sa mga ibang nasa ballroom. Ika nga, "hindi nila mapapaliwanag nang mabuti."

Ano naman ang napakakumplikadong paliwanag na ito?

Lahat ba, naitanong ko na?

Nanlaki ang aking mga mata. May nakita akong nag-iisa sa dulo ng kwarto. Mukhang matalino. Nilapitan ko.

"Sarap ng pagkain."

Binigyan niya 'ko ng tingin ng pagkagulat.

Makalipas ang ilang segundo, nagsalita na rin siya.

"Ganyan ka ba talaga nagsisimula ng isang conversation?"

"Di eh. Pero masarap naman talaga. Kinailangan ko lang ilabas ang matinding damdamin ko para sa handa."

Tawanan. Pero desperado na 'ko. Gusto ko nang malaman kung bakit.

"Bakit magkamukha kayong lahat dito?"

"Ah.... ikaw ay tulog ngayon. Nananaginip ka lang. Ang bawat tao rito'y indibidwal na parte ng iyong sarili. Ang iba't-iba **** personalidad, nag anyong-tao."

Ginagago ako nito, ah.

"Subukan '**** kurutin ang 'yong sarili. Di siya masakit, di ba?"

Tiningnan ko ang braso ko. Kinurot ko, yung masakit talaga.

Wala akong naramdaman.

"Gets? Ako ang parteng nais tumulong sa iba, sa kapwa-tao."

".... Maniniwala muna ako sayo, ngayon. Pero, ibig sabihin ba'y ang lahat ng personalidad ko'y pantay-pantay?"

"Hindi. Ang mga taong nasa itaas ng hagdan, sila ang pinakamalalaking parte ng 'yong sarili. Kaya sila ang mga pinakamakapangyarihan dito sa ballroom."

"At pwede akong umakyat doon?"
Gusto kong umakyat.

"Handa ka bang tanggapin ang iyong sarili? Pa'no kung puro mamamatay-tao pala ang mga nasa itaas? O magnanakaw? O sinungaling?"

"Edi ok, tanggap ko naman na di ako perpekto."

Pero sa isipan ko, natakot ako. Nakakatakot makita ang mga masasamang parte ng sarili mo, na naging sarili niyang tao.

"Edi umakyat ka. Panaginip mo 'to. 'Di akin."

"Sige, salamat pare."


Inakala ko na ang huli niyang sasabihin ay may relasyon sa pag-iingat, o pagkukumbinsi na 'wag na 'kong umakyat. Pero dahil sa isang "geh" na sagot niya, nahalata 'kong wala na akong makukuhang impormasyon kung di ako aakyat.

Nasa harap na ako ng hagdanan. Kung nakatayo ka pala rito, parang nakatitig ang mga gintong dekorasyon sa 'yo.

Isa-isa kong inakyat ang mga hagdan, at sa taas, may nakita akong apat na tao.
Yung tatlo, nakikinig at tumatawa sa biro ng isa.

Wala naman akong ibang masabi, e.

Bigla silang tumahimik at napatingin sa 'kin.
Alam na siguro nila kung sino ako, dahil nilapitan nila ako at nakipag-kamay.

"Alam mo na ba ang lugar na ito? May nagsabi na ba sa 'yo?"

"Oo. Sabi sa 'kin ng isa na kayo raw ang mga pinakamalaking parte ng aking personalidad."

"AHHH! Mali siya! Nasa impiyerno ka na ngayon. Masama ka kasi eh."

Napatingin lang ako sa kanya.

"Joke lang, 'wag naman masyadong seryoso. Edi madali na lang pala! Sige, pakilala tayo!"
Ngumiti naman ang apat.

Nauna yung tatlo.

"Ako ang parte **** responsable. Alam mo ang mga responsibilidad mo, at maaga mo tinatapos."

Wow. Responsable pala ako.

Ang pangalawa.
"Ako naman ang parte **** madasalin. Malakas ang tiwala mo sa Diyos, kaya mahilig ka magdasal."
Grabe, banal pala ako?

Ang pangatlo.
"Ako naman ang parte **** mahilig sa sports. Mapa-boxing man o swimming, o basketball. Lagi kang handa."
Parang yung bodybuilder ko lang na klasmeyt ah. Napatawa ako.

At ang pang-apat, at ang lider:
"Ako ang parte ng sarili mo na nais makatulong sa ibang tao. Handa kang magpatawa kung kailangan, pero kaya mo naman ring magseryoso. 'Di ka nang-iiwan. Tunay kang kaibigan."

Pero yung tao kanina yung nais makatulong sa ibang tao.... baka ito yung sinungaling. Bahala na.

"Kayo ang pinakamalaki? Natutuwa naman ako."
Nagtawanan lahat.

"Pero may isa pa. Ang pinakamalaki talaga sa lahat."

Saan nga ba talaga?

"Dito. Halika. Bago ka magising. Para makilala mo."

Pumunta yung pang-apat sa isang dulo ng kwarto. May pinindot siya. May maliit na butas na nagpakita sa pader. Madilim. Nahirapan akong pumasok. 'Di na sumunod ang apat.

Sa gitna ng kwarto, may isang tao. Isa. Nag-iisa, kasama ng mga libro at papel.

"Ikaw ang pinakamalaking parte?"

Tumingin lang siya sa 'kin.

"Ikaw ba talaga? Ano naman sinisimbolo mo?"

"Ako ang katahimikan. Ang katahimikan sa iyong loob. Matatag ang puso mo, at kahit marami kang kinakatakutan, hindi ito nagiging hadlang sa 'yo. Ako ang nagbibigay buhay at enerhiya sa lahat ng mga personalidad mo."

*At ako'y napatahimik. Katahimikan pala ang pinakamalaking parte.
It's 3:44 am woooooooo I started at 3. ps this is in tagalog/filipino. thank you
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