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Rebel Heart Oct 2017
Poems aren't simple raps
About money or ***
Nor a contest
To see how many words you could rhyme
With time or chime or slime or crime
Like the crime I'd be committing
If I confined these words to such a small pool
Of what society deems poetry to be...

Poetry is a being
Born from freedom
Risen from the tides
Of emotions that ran so deep
It cut into a person's heart and soul...
So I guess I'm just trying to understand
When it became such a dreary concept
Taught in the confines of walls
As rigid and cold
As the useless rhyme scheme of words
Released into the world for a simple test
When in reality, poetry was meant to be sown with care
And grow into something beautiful...

The real beauty of poetry
Comes from the way
The letters dance and flow together
Into the head and to your heart
Binding us all together
Cherishing our differences
In the same rhythm it holds
The entire universe
With all its secrets
In the space between them
A response to a teacher RH and I had years ago that I found in the lost files of her (RH's) poetry journey... I guess at the time I, like the others, despised writing in general as much as that teacher of ours, but RH's love for it never dwindled and I hope it never does... Almost crying thinking about all these memories though it has nothing to do with the poem so before I turn this into a rant, enjoy and leave your comments below.. ~BM
Ryan Holden Oct 2017
mark all my words
it's not absurd
to be deterred
from how I flirt,
if you prefer
lady, this stirred?
take this hand - dance with me my pearl,
deep breaths we twirl,
a voice unheard
unspoken birds
loose shoes, loose shirts,
loose dress, loose skirts,
and us poets
know which way - you would have preferred.
Just a quick silly write. Enjoy. 4-4-4-4-4-4-8-4-4-4-4-4-4-8.
it was a long 2 hours of the homecoming dance
the sweaty bodies bobbing up and down
the yelling and singing ringing my ears

with the girls showing more and more skin throughout the night
begging for attention wherever they can find it
with whoever will give it to them
losing all dignity, drunk on ecstasy

where the boys sneak hits under the chaos
just to throw it on the concrete as they make their way to the car
to get behind the wheel or on top of a girl

while the rejects go outside
and the couples find a space
with the teachers watching on
with mind of safety, curiosity, or perversity

the pounding of the music sending shocks through my body
all i do is look on
to the things that most disgust me
to what I will not become

and i see this pattern that goes round and round
a dying world, a failing world
filled with the weak and void of the strong
i stare on in silence with the few by my side
watching humanity slip further from this dance
just some observations
Kinsey Williams Oct 2017
Her wrists were meant for music festival wristbands and scars
At least they weren't wounds anymore
Just memories of a girl who lived there before

Side to side; crooked
As if done carelessly
I knew her movements weren't careless
They were precise

Dancing
Boy, could she dance
Pretending her thoughts were light
Like the skirt flowing out around her

Her wrists were meant for music festival wristbands and scars
Because she knew she needed to heal
Whisper Yes Oct 2017
Flow
Burst
Keep moving
Let the momentum take me
Go inward
Don’t judge, don’t think
Keep moving
Flowing
Bursting
Dance
Dance till it becomes real
Until I understand
All the pain and insecurity
All the beauty
All the not understanding
Don’t have to understand
Just keep moving
Keep dancing.
Atoosa Oct 2017
Passionate negotiations
Twirling truce in the battle of the sexes
Drama dancing in every dynamic phrase and flourish
Questions posed in angles answered in curves
Skill balanced on a razor's edge
Try to turn away - magnetic forces will pull you back
Returning with fierce vengeance to hard earned harmony
Drawn to this dance since I first saw it as a child.......mystery and tension, passion and grace....and all the tapestry of the Tango
Mary-Rose H Oct 2017
I'm a wounded dreamer
turned willful cynic
who rejects
the stained and shattered ideal
that anything earthly can be perfect.

And yet...

that night
under the lights,
those
mere
couple of minutes
in your arms
swaying to the music-
nothing could have made that moment better
which sounds an awful lot like perfection
to the ears
of this
wounded dreamer.
Fumbletongue Oct 2017
Groove, move, dance around
When I'm lost I am found
The rhythm is the only sound

So far in, I'm beyond
Take my hand, let's abscond
Heartbeat meter correspond
Fumbletongue Oct 2017
Look at me
So carefree
Frolicking in the flowers

Skip around
On the ground
In the lushness of the bowers

Here we go
On tip toe
Dancing in the breeze

Arms out wide
Nature's bride
No better days than these

From day to dusk
I do lust
For your grand display

Orange and pinks
Days last wink
A vibrant color soiree

Then I sneak
To the creek
Splashing with delight

Mistress moon
I do swoon
In your beams of soft moonlight
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