Dancer Of Swords
the dancer of swords
dances with skilled practice
long years practice preparing
the dancer of swords
dances crimson dance of death
brief moments red blood flowing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
The Dance
See the picture in the hall
Framed in magic on the wall
Aint it funny how it glows
Whats on the inside
No one knows
What makes this picture
So inviting
To those who stand outside it
Maybe its the dancers
Or maybe its the dance
The dancer dances
Thousands fill the gallery
They pay their price to see a dream
They can make believe for free
Two hours worth of fantasy
Maybe they pretend
The pictures them
Or maybe they just love
To sit and blend
Tonight the picture has no frame
Colours unleash and float away
To each and everyone of you
Tonight the spirit brings the news
You become a part of it all
Thousands turn to one in the hall
You become the dancer
And we become the dance
The dancer dances
The dancer dances
The dancer dances
And we become the dancer
And you become the dance
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Way of Village
At Way of Village
At way of village
In harmony with tom-tom
The dancer dances
Putting on nose ring
Wearing anklet on leg
Lolita dances
Dance with word time
Wind parody of season
Band of joy maker
Dance with flute
Bend waist looks as snake
Dance in pleasure
Flash of lightning
Causes swinging the earth
Come make dances
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Tiny Dancer
tiny dancer, dance for me
take away every dream and memory
trick me into believing everything is fine
dance til this rain turns to sunshine
as i watch you in my hand
...heal with with your beautiful dance
tiny dancer take me away
show me the way with your ballet
dance until my heart stops bleeding
kiss these wounds so they'll stop leaking
......now shes in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
she dances with her heart and soul just so i can stand
poem by Tanesha Davenport
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The potter and the dancer
A potter made pots,
which are there after the potter has worked.
A dancer did dance,
which is not there after the dancer has worked.
God is a dancer,
Who dances from where things vibrate.
God isn't a potter
To create things and be away from it.
13.07.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dancer
Im not invited to the party
Been sitting here all night
Im all alone here at the party
Aint got no black coat
Aint got no tie
I gotta shape up now
You gotto know why
Dancer, dancer
I cant live with it Im gonna die without it
Dancer, dancer
Aint no doubt about it
Dancer, dancer
Why dont you kick off your dancing shoes
And come along with me
Youre the life and soul of the funk-tion
It took me all night
To get hold of the right introduction
Blew me out of sight
I taste your lipstick
I look in your eyes
You feel fantastic
My body cries
(chorus)
(hot space)
Dancer, dancer
I cant believe your dancing
Cant take you home, cant take your dancing
Dancer, dancer, dance the night away
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody Dance (The Dance Of The Dead)
As the sun sinks upon the horizon,
As the dark night creeps in,
The dead dance.
On the streets they roam,
Silent,
Alone.
Everybody dances,
The saints and the sinners,
Everybody dances,
To the sound of the rhythm,
Everybody dances,
The dance of the dead.
The dance of the dead goes on,
And on,
Never stops,
Never slows,
Time does not matter to the dead.
Everybody dances,
The poor and the rich,
Everybody dances,
To the cries to the babies,
Everybody dances,
The dance of the dead.
As your time goes up,
The dead dance into your room,
Filled with silent movements,
They twirl with grace,
And style
And ease.
They reach out their hands,
And you take it,
And join the dance of the dead.
Everybody dance,
The young and the old,
Everybody dance,
The music is playing,
Everybody dance,
To the dance of the dead.
C’mon,
Everybody dance,
Soldiers and lovers,
Oh,
Everybody dance,
To sound they cry,
So,
Everybody dance,
To the dance of the dead,
The dance of the dead.
Oh,
Everybody dances,
Because the dance never stops.
6/05/06
poem by Charlie F. Kane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pirate Of Penance
Penance crane:
The pirate anchored on a wednesday
And why he came to port I wonder
To see a lady so my friends say
She dances for the sailors
In a smoky cabaret bar underground
Down in a cellar in a harbor town
I know he told her love was treasure
And they would reap the fullest bounty
He only comes to port for pleasure
So when the winds of morning
Blew the curtains in she woke and found hed gone
I saw his sails unfurling thursday dawn
The pirate he will sink you with a kiss
Hell steal your heart and sail away
The dancer:
Saturday early we met in the cove near the forest
Penance:
Hell leave you drowning in the flotsam of a broken promise in the bay
The dancer:
(dancing we wakened the dawn and the birds into chorus)
Penance:
He came again to see her
Yes I think they told me it was saturday
The dancer:
(ask penance crane she was out in her garden she saw us)
Penance:
I was at sea then
I didnt see them
I dont believe what you are saying
It isnt true I hardly knew him
Is this some game that you are playing
Go ask the dancer shes the one who saw him last
The one who drew him here
He hasnt come to me since spring last year
There was a time when he would
Bring me silks and sandalwood and persian lace
The dancer:
(then came another goodbye and another please dont go)
Penance:
And he would hold me close
And tell my sailing stories by the fireplace
The dancer:
(all night I dance and all day I keep watch with my sorrow)
Penance:
I was at sea I tell you I was
Nowhere near the mentioned murder place
The dancer:
(searching for sails that dont come
And I guess but I dont know)
Penance:
Go ask the dancer
She knows the answer
The dancer:
I dont know
Penance:
She knows the answer
The dancer:
I dont know
Penance:
She knows the answer
The dancer:
I dont know
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Practice Every Step
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no sleeping for someone who has a place to go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Focus on that goal,
And tighten on your hold,
And...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Every journey taken,
Must be thought of as a race...
And,
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no other way to straighten out a crooked road,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
No matter what you're told,
There will be some doubts and woes...
But you,
Practice every step.
Yes you,
Practice every step.
Woes you hold will eventually go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kebyar Dance
kebyar duduk
kebyar trompong
created by Mario
a Balinese dance genius
in kebyar trompong
dancer plays
trompong instrument
while dances
displays of suppleness
and the virtuosity
short but spectacular
non-narrative dances
inspired by the dynamism
of the gong kebyar
a gamelan orchestra
originating from Northern Bali
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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Sweet Dancer
THE girl goes dancing there
On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth
Grass plot of the garden;
Escaped from bitter youth,
Escaped out of her crowd,
Or out of her black cloud.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer.!
If strange men come from the house
To lead her away, do not say
That she is happy being crazy;
Lead them gently astray;
Let her finish her dance,
Let her finish her dance.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer.!
poem by William Butler Yeats
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William Butler Yeats
To Helen Vendler
To accomplish the simplicity
Of words that learned how to dance
Without much support from a dancer
Who learned the steps of deserved living
From the vigor of his dancing mind.
Is it a dance or the dancing?
Is it to live or to be lived?
It was not the dancer, but the dancing;
It was not the life, but the living mind;
The truth of living found in dancing.
If he had chosen only to live,
The dance would have been much less lively.
It was the dancer who followed the dance;
The dance, living the dancer's life.
poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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The Reoccurring Dream
PENANCE CRANE:
The pirate anchored on a Wednesday
And why he came to port I wonder
To see a lady so my friends say
She dances for the sailors
In a smoky cabaret bar underground
Down in a cellar in a harbor town
I know he told her love was treasure
And they would reap the fullest bounty
He only comes to port for pleasure
So when the winds of morning
Blew the curtains in she woke and found he'd gone
I saw his sails unfurling Thursday dawn
The pirate he will sink you with a kiss
He'll steal your heart and sail away
THE DANCER:
Saturday early we met in the cove near the forest
PENANCE:
He'll leave you drowning in the flotsam Of a broken promise in the bay
THE DANCER:
(Dancing we wakened the dawn and the birds into chorus)
PENANCE:
He came again to see her
Yes I think they told me it was Saturday
THE DANCER:
(Ask Penance Crane she was out in her garden she saw us)
PENANCE:
I was at sea then
I didn't see them
I don't believe what you are saying
It isn't true I hardly knew him
Is this some game that you are playing
Go ask the dancer she's the one who saw him last
The one who drew him here
He hasn't come to me since spring last year
There was a time when he would
Bring me silks and sandalwood and Persian lace
THE DANCER:
(Then came another
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disco Dancer
Im a disco dancer
But Ive got no place to go
(Im a disco boy Im a disco boy)
Im a disco dancer baby
But my feet wont touch the floor
(Im a disco boy Im a disco boy)
Oh no
Ive been sleeping twenty years or more
I remember a long time ago
(Im a disco boy Im a disco boy)
Nya nya nya nya
Now Im back to change your mind
Now Im moving right in time
In a world thats turned unkind
I see whats going on behind my back
Im a disco dancer
I keep dancin on and on
(Im a disco boy Im a disco boy)
Oh no
Im a disco dancer baby
But I think that somethings wrong
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sestina: Altaforte
Loquitur: En Bertrans de Born.
Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he was a
stirrer-up of strife.
Eccovi!
Judge ye!
Have I dug him up again?
The scene in at his castle, Altaforte. "Papiols" is his jongleur.
"The Leopard," the device of Richard (Cúur de Lion).
I
Damn it all! all this our South stinks peace.
You whoreson dog, Papiols, come! Let's to music!
I have no life save when the swords clash.
But ah! when I see the standards gold, vair, purple, opposing
And the broad fields beneath them turn crimson,
Then howl I my heart nigh mad with rejoicing.
II
In hot summer have I great rejoicing
When the tempests kill the earth's foul peace,
And the lightnings from black heav'n flash crimson,
And the fierce thunders roar me their music
And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, opposing,
And through all the riven skies God's swords clash.
III
Hell grant soon we hear again the swords clash!
And the shrill neighs of destriers in battle rejoicing,
Spiked breast to spiked breast opposing!
Better one hour's stour than a year's peace
With fat boards, bawds, wine and frail music!
Bah! there's no wine like the blood's crimson!
IV
And I love to see the sun rise blood-crimson.
And I watch his spears through the dark clash
And it fills all my heart with rejoicing
And pries wide my mouth with fast music
When I see him so scorn and defy peace,
His lone might 'gainst all darkness opposing.
V
The man who fears war and squats opposing
My words for stour, hath no blood of crimson
But is fit only to rot in womanish peace
Far from where worth's won and the swords clash
For the death of such sluts I go rejoicing;
Yea, I fill all the air with my music.
VI
Papiols, Papiols, to the music!
There's no sound like to swords swords opposing,
No cry like the battle's rejoicing
When our elbows and swords drip the crimson
And our charges 'gainst "The Leopard's" rush clash.
May God damn for ever all who cry "Peace!"
VII
And let the music of the swords make them crimson!
Hell grant soon we hear again the swords clash!
Hell blot black for always the thought "Peace!"
poem by Ezra Pound
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How a Little Girl Danced
DEDICATED TO LUCY BATES
(Being a reminiscence of certain private theatricals.)
Oh, cabaret dancer, I know a dancer,
Whose eyes have not looked on the feasts that are vain.
I know a dancer, I know a dancer,
Whose soul has no bond with the beasts of the plain:
Judith the dancer, Judith the dancer,
With foot like the snow, and with step like the rain.
Oh, thrice-painted dancer, vaudeville dancer,
Sad in your spangles, with soul all astrain,
I know a dancer, I know a dancer,
Whose laughter and weeping are spiritual gain,
A pure-hearted, high-hearted maiden evangel,
With strength the dark cynical earth to disdain.
Flowers of bright Broadway, you of the chorus,
Who sing in the hope of forgetting your pain:
I turn to a sister of Sainted Cecilia,
A white bird escaping the earth's tangled skein:—
The music of God is her innermost brooding,
The whispering angels her footsteps sustain.
Oh, proud Russian dancer: praise for your dancing.
No clean human passion my rhyme would arraign.
You dance for Apollo with noble devotion,
A high cleansing revel to make the heart sane.
But Judith the dancer prays to a spirit
More white than Apollo and all of his train.
I know a dancer who finds the true Godhead,
Who bends o'er a brazier in Heaven's clear plain.
I know a dancer, I know a dancer,
Who lifts us toward peace, from this earth that is vain:
Judith the dancer, Judith the dancer,
With foot like the snow, and with step like the rain.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Sexy Dancer
Sexy dancer
Sexy dancer
Sexy dancer, you got my body screamin
Sexy dancer, you got me just-a-creamin
Sexy dancer, when you rub my body
Sexy dancer, it gets me so hot...hot!
Sexy dancer, sexy dancer
Sexy dancer, sexy dancer
Sexy dancer, I want your body, want your body
Sexy dancer, dance
Sexy dancer, I want your body, want your body
Sexy dancer, dance
Sexy dancer, I want your body, want your body
Sexy dancer, dance
Sexy dancer, I want your body, want your body
Sexy dancer, dance
Sexy dancer, do that sexy dance
Sexy dancer
Sexy dancer, sexy dancer
Sexy dancer, sexy dancer
Hot!
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opening Ceremony
by Michael Murphey
She's always appearing with a band of renown,
You want to go and see her when you're feeling down,
She's a breathtaking spectacle with guaranteed hope,
She'll make you feel good 'cause she's the best thing since soap,
She'll greet you in the alley with a fortified smile,
She's the original sideshow and she's got her own style.
Pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
Yes, I say, pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
'Cause she's the Oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her run.
Now, she dances on air just like Superman's child,
Like a field of sheep grazing, she's wild but she's mild,
She's more fun than Colorado and more farout than Maine,
She comes on like thunder and she's more right than rain,
She's the mother of earth and the goddess of thirst,
She's the chicken and the egg and whichever came first.
Pardon my baby, she got to have a chance,
Oh, I say, pardon my baby, she got to have a chance,
'Cause she's the Oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her dance.
Whoo...
SOLO
Oh, my, somebody get the piano player a drink of water...
Yeah, I say pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
Yeah, I say pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
Yes, she's the Oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her run,
Whoo, my-my.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Experiment
Look how these colors come together
Come with me now
Let's fly forever
And practice never falling
You've gotten carried away with this
The shaman's dance
The romantic bliss
These things must never end
It's good that he dances in circles
And spins
So we can see the begining again
And feel this in our souls
Dance the dance with furious precision
And soon we'll find
The right religion
Or perhaps a new one
Answers are so hard to find
They lie in wait
For an abstract mind
Welcome to our experiment
poem by Jeremy Michael Gregory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Indian Dances
The Indian culture is most diverse,
So are the Indian dances to traverse;
There are many Indian Classical dances,
And so are the many regional Folk dances.
A physical and visual form is dance,
It appropriates the spectator to a trance;
The colourful attire enchants the audience,
And the different ornaments amuse their sense.
The Natya Sastra by Sage Bharata was propounded,
And the Indian Classical dance on a grammar founded;
Indian culture with four Vedas itself prides,
And with Natya Sastra known as the fifth Veda, it strides.
Dances were originally performed in a temple,
Mainly to entertain Gods and Godesses and people;
Accompanying were the drums, flute and other instruments,
To synchronize with the music and the dancers ‘ movements.
The Classical dances are spiritual in content,
The Folk dances are of joy and celebration intent;
Elements of Indian dances are Mudra and Abhinaya—
The dancer's interpretation of words set to music and laya.
Many dance forms depict the moods -Navarasas,
Which are the various emotions or nine rasas;
They are Hasya, Krodha, Bhibasta, Bhaya, Santha,
And Veeram, Karuna, Adbhuta and Shoka:
Which are Happiness, Anger, Disgust, Fear, Serenity,
And Courage, Compassion, Wonder, and Sorrow respectively.
Many are the reputed Indian dance styles,
So are the many dance forms of details.
The Indian dance forms, that are popular—
Bharathanatyam of Tamil Nadu: Manipuri of Manipur:
Garba of Gujarat: Kuchupudi of Andhra Pradesh:
Bhangra of Punjab: Kathak of Uttar Pradesh:
Gaudiya Nritya of West Bengal: Lavani of Maharashtra:
Kathakali and Mohini Attam of Kerala: Oddissi of Oddisha:
Indian dances play their parts in many realms of arts—
In Poetry, Architecture, Literature and Sculpture of sorts.
Dancers with their beautiful art give us a profound feeling,
Making them appealing and our hearts stealing!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Black Morning Lovesong
In love's dances, in love's dances
One retreats and one advances,
One grows warmer and one colder,
One more hesitant, one bolder.
One gives what the other needed
Once, or will need, now unheeded.
One is clenched, compact, ingrowing
While the other's melting, flowing.
One is smiling and concealing
While the other's asking kneeling.
One is arguing or sleeping
While the other's weeping, weeping.
And the question finds no answer
And the tune misleads the dancer
And the lost look finds no other
And the lost hand finds no brother
And the word is left unspoken
Till the theme and thread are broken.
When shall these divisions alter?
Echo's answer seems to falter:
'Oh the unperplexed, unvexed time
Next time...one day...one day...next time!'
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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