I don't go to these places where there are belly dancers and this and that.
quote by Jeff Goldblum
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Belly rub
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
Gonna catch that freesby,
then bring it right back to you.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you feed me steak, ill jump in
the pool.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you let me sleep in your bed,
ill protect you from demons and
ghost.
poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For My Dog Amber Who Died A Year Ago
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
Gonna catch that freesby,
then bring it right back to you.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you feed me steak, ill jump in
the pool.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you let me sleep in your bed,
ill protect you from demons and
ghost.
poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All our yesterdays
Dusty shelves within our minds
Dark labyrinth of passageways
Memories stored like aging wine
Where we keep… all our yesterdays
Moments… treasured, … forgotten pleasures
snugly tucked, in private places
Daydream fodder, and even odder
Private portfolio Of forgotten faces
Far off look…into empty spaces
Seeing sights of other days
Tasting memory’s wine, of other places
Divinely, takes your breath away.
Shadow dancers on the wall
memory’s vault in which they lay
Private…inviolate… memory hall
Where are kept… all our yesterdays
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul Dance
I will dance with you
It will be the dance of my soul
I will be open and honest
Show you my inner being
I will trust you
Take you to places in my soul that have been broken and restored
Places that cause pain and healing
Places that have hated and loved
Places I have forgotten and remembered
Places I have not visited in a long time and places I go every day
I will dance with you the dance of my soul
And feel your soul dance with mine to those same places in yours
poem by Mandi Ducroq
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uniformed Expression.
I mute the remote and watch the program in TV,
For the reasons known to them, you and me,
The hula-hula dancers from Hawaii shake the hips with wild wink,
The hip dancers from Middle East cover not their breasts,
The movements are swift and beautiful as the dancers,
from all around the globe. When the eyes are rotated,
from left to right to show the love, anger and fear,
the facial muscles are pulled, puffed and twisted,
to show the surprise, disgust and contempt,
the necks are moved in the same way as the other,
from Europe and Africa with their unique dance steps,
How is it possible that human have picked up,
The same method to express the emotions,
Even a silent movie tells us a story, visually.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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When I Touch Your Belly
When I touch your belly tears of amazement run down my eyes.
I am so amazed that inside your womb a life lies.
A child that was created all from our love;
God, I can’t believe that in a few weeks you’ll give birth to our miracle of love.
When I touch your belly with my ear;
I can’t believe the heart beat I hear.
It like a little drum beating a message to me;
In the sounds of the beat I swear our child is saying hi daddy.
When I touch your belly I caressing you as well as our child;
I’m caressing you to say thank you for carrying our child.
I could not have chosen a better mother then you.
These are all the things I’m saying when I touch your belly.
The hungry belly and the full belly do not walk the same road.
Melancholy wintertime thoughts
Its cold outside and the fire
Crackles in the hearth, sends forth
Merry sparks to conceal you from
the dark.
You will not let the fire dim,
Because you know they will come in
All the wonderers in the dark.
All the dancers in the dark all the lonely
And the old, those from before who are
Here searching through the dark.
The peikko and the shamleg the journo and the ancient one
who slides on his belly, seek refuge in the dark.
The beast with many horns and he who
sleeps the day seek refuge in the dark.
So draw near to your little fire, throw on
A log or two. Think not of the beasts of winter and
they wont care for you
Again Those Dancers Bleed
Accusatory.
And historically dancers,
Who prance around accountability.
Choosing to place their responsibilities,
On someone else's shoulders.
To free themselves of reality!
And again those dancers bleed,
Anyone who sacrifices integrity.
With a wish to lead with honesty.
But those represented,
Seek to have their delusions accentuated.
Caring less how their created mess is addressed.
As long as truth from them is arrested,
And not publicly debated.
With a deflation that escalates,
Their addiction to achieve unquestionable waste.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tropicana
Dancers for the 'Tropicana' in Cuba,
Training with outfits to win the very hard way!
But the muse of their nakedness is what they share to the public,
And without any othere alternative to move forward.
Tropicana, Tropicana!
Dancers to entertaqin the public;
But they have to go through the hard way! !
And it is all about this dance in Cuba.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Can be a servant
Don’t feel being a servant
In the family of your son
If it is for your belly
For you had been a servant
At your will to bring him up
With no return for your belly.
06.05.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Alabaster Cave ~ A Villanelle
Inside the belly of the whale
He left her to construct her fate
A conduct far beyond the pale
A darkness like the pit of hell
She slipped and tumbled upside down
Inside the belly of the whale
Skeletal hands with sharp toenails
That clung to alabaster walls
And onyx wing-beats flapped pell-mell
The mousy guano rained and fell
Laying eggs inside her hair
Inside the belly of the whale!
She looked to hide to no avail
He'd plowed ahead and left her there
A conduct far beyond the pale
No handholds, twas like reading Braille
He'd doused the green light lamp telltales
Inside the belly of the whale
A conduct far beyond the pale
poem by Sara Fielder
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A Blue Bird...
THERE is a blue bird
nesting inside my belly
there are butterflies in
there too,
THERE is nothing that
comes out from my belly
there is nothing that
flutters in there
nothing flies away
there is nothing
that comes out from
my mouth
THERE is only a blue bird
in my belly
the butterflies do not
last
only the blue bird
yes
this blue bird
this silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Bar Dance
My Bar Dance
ha! ha! !
In my bar dance
Perpetual is romance
People from home and France
In dancer's eyes spirituality glance
ha! ha! !
It is an eternal dance
It's not a game of chance
You fall in love at first glance
Vast its dancing floor's expanse
ha! ha! !
In dance the divinity glitters
In dancers drink bowls no bitters
The dancers' lives without jitters
Their hearts are divine transmitters
ha! ha! !
Come and join my bar dance
This Christmas joyous trance
poem by C.P. Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Places in the Heart
There are places in the heart,
that are still unmarred by
understanding -
those places that we have
kept hidden for so long
from all those prying eyes,
prowling in the darkness -
There are places in the heart,
filled with childhood memories
of laughter and joy,
hope and new beginnings,
those places that we revisit
secretly and tenderly,
those places that make us
feel alive again -
There are places in the heart
that know no boundaries,
no limitations, but unrestrained
happiness of a smiling child,
filled with wonder and love
for the world, feeling both
godlike and tiny, overtaken
by the invisible presence
that permeates the moon
and the countless stars -
There are places in the heart,
where life is filled with miracles
and questions lead to more
questions, prompted by infinite
curiosity and the desire to know
the essence of things,
there are places that only
you and I know,
those places that remind us
who we really are -
For we are the essence
of life's joy and discovery,
truth and beauty, love and
tenderness, that penetrates
the cracks of a fractured world,
we are those places in the heart
that know no end and no beginning,
but love and only love,
that sings through us like
warm summer rain.
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Erotic Lullaby For Bedding, After Roethke
Belly belly the hard boiled egg.
I map out of a dream.
Love a long necked boy.
Dance lips! Leaves of legion.
Jelly, yard dog! Leap to June.
Suckle me, honey,
long necked, boney onion.
Why cry when peeled?
Count the rings of a tree,
the circles of a breath.
The nose is a love.
Press me, press me.
Iron me soft.
A breath leans,
nape of jeans falling.
Wedge me, wedge me.
Be an ax.
Clap me, trunk of calcium,
bone of need.
Sing, throat, puller of weeds,
secret coronations.
I day your arbor.
You arbor my seed,
belly belly
egg of sway.
Falter me,
long necked, naked boy.
Lather I'd rather thee.
All egg is joy.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eighteen Isn’t Long Enough To Live
I remember how we played on the playground
Giggling as we ate our big stash of candy in the fort.
I remember how we jumped off the big ferry boat
Thinking we were the worlds greatest divers
Even when we did a belly flop.
I remember when we danced to American Bandstand
We all thought we were the best dancers ever.
I remember when you helped me find my Easter basket
When no one else would.
Or you shared your candy with me from Halloween
When mine was all gone.
I remember when you stood up for me
Taking my side
Whenever someone hurt my feelings.
I remember you were the only one I would talk to
When I was having a breakdown,
Because I knew you would listen to me.
Eighteen isn’t long enough to live.
I still don’t understand
Why there is gang violence
And why you were in the wrong place
At the wrong time.
I miss you my brother.
poem by Connie Webb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Poverty..
How will the poor man raise his voice,
Without food in his belly?
He is willing to work,
But wishes he had the energy.
Like many things in this universe,
This cycle too has been reversed.
He will have to become someone,
So as to feed his belly.
He will have to ignore his hunger,
If food he wants to see.
poem by Sameer Daniel Gardner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Hidden Sweetness Is There
217
What hidden sweetness there is in this emptiness of the belly!
Man is surely like a lute, no more and no less;
For if, for instance, the belly of the lute becomes full, no
lament high or low will arise from that full lute.
If your brain and belly are on fire through fasting, because of
the fire every moment a lament will arise from your breast.
Every moment you will burn a thousand veils by that fire; you
will mount a hundred steps with zeal and endeavor.
Become empty of belly, and weep entreatingly like the reed
pipe; become empty of belly, and tell secrets with the reed pen.
If your belly is full at the time of concourse, it will bring Satan
in place of your reason, an idol in place of the Kaaba.
When you keep the fast, good habits gather together before
you like slaves and servants and retinue.
Keep the fast, for that is Solomon’s ring; give not the ring to
the div, destroy not your kingdom.
Even if your kingdom has gone from your head and your army
has fled, your army will rise up, pennants flying above them.
The table arrived from heaven to the tents of the fast, by the
intervention of the prayers of Jesus, son of Mary.
In the fast, be expectant of the table of bounty, for the table of
bounty is better than the broth of cabbages.
The Numbers
i think i am beginning to know the numbers
their meanings
inside the big dome the dancers are practicing
the steps are numbered
and the whole day the leader keeps the count
one two three four
five six
seven eight nine ten
eight seven six five
four three
two one
four three two one
five six seven eight
eight seven six five four three
two one
the whole day for the whole week for the whole month
these numbers are counted like
one two three four
five six
seven eight nine ten
eight seven six five
four three
two one
four three two one
five six seven eight
eight seven six five four three
two one
i am standing by the door
looking at the dancers jump to the count of
six five four three
two one
they run and stop and run again
and stamp on the left and on the right
and point and slash
and jump and
kick and sway and
stand and kneel
and kick and slash
eight seven six five
four three two one
four three
four three two one
numbers indeed
are numbing
they make us numb
they are making us dumb
five four three two one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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