A LOVER’S DANCE
A lovers dance is patient and kind
It feeds your heart, soul and mind
It brings you joy and happiness within
Knowing that he or she will be
with you
Through thick and thin.
A lovers dance can be recaptured
Only if the partners heart has not
been fractured.
A lovers dance has no mistakes
It plays no one, not even games.
A lovers dance is slow and kind
Easy to learn but hard to find.
A lovers dance.
- by Ernsalite Menard
I met an artist,
now my days
are painted in lavender,
each hour a different hue.
I dream in watercolor,
dance in blurred tones.
With each stroke I glide,
moved by inspiration.
I am his vision, his dancer,
his impression of beauty.
This canvas my stage
as I perform for you.
- by Christy Ann Martine
DREAM VARIATIONS
To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me-
That is my dream!
To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening …
A tall, slim tree …
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.
- by Langston Hughes
DANCE ME TO THE END OF LOVE
Dance me to your beauty with a burning
violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m
gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my
homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
- by Leonard Cohen
COLORED TOYS
When I bring to you colored toys, my child,
I understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water,
and why flowers are painted in tints
-when I give colored toys to you, my child.
When I sing to make you dance
I truly know why there is music in leaves,
and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the
listening earth
-when I sing to make you dance.
When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands
I know why there is honey in the cup of the flowers
and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice
-when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands.
When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling,
I surely understand what pleasure streams from the sky in morning light,
and what delight that is that is which the summer breeze brings
to my body
-when I kiss you to make you smile.
- by Rabindranath Tagore
LOVE ONE ANOTHER
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup, but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone.
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart.
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.
- by Khalil Gibran
RHYTHM OF AFRICA
Dance, dance!
With the muse of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the rhythm of Africa;
Moving your body and,
Moving your steps;
To the sounds and cultures of the various tribes of Africa.
Dance, dance!
To the rhythm of Africa.
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
To a continent of nature’s muse,
To a continent of muti-languages,
To a continent full of colours!
From North, South, East, and West;
Come to Africa and see things for yourselves.
Rhythm of Africa,
Rhythm of various customs and cultures,
Rhythm of the various countries in Africa,
Rhythm of the animlas,
With the beauty of nature as seen around.
Dance, dance!
Dance with the steps and shake your body;
To the rhythm of Africa touching your heart and soul.
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
Rhythm of Africa!
With the muse of various races in Africa;
Expressing their cultures and customs to the muse of the rhythm of Africa.
- by Edward Kofi Louis
POETS DANCE
Poets dance in the heart of rhythms
Discussion spoken in the pen
Energy being tampered within the music
Limitations rarely occur in audio-silence
Artist writes from the heart of rhythms
The poets are dancing
Flaming hot ink drips from the pen
The paper it’s a sacrificial victim
It just seems to lay still
there’s no escape when the poets dance
Rhythmic heartbeats offset the
confrontation
of clumsy feet
To tap dance on paper is a joy one must
experience
to fully appreciate
It’s not for the faint-hearted.
- by Tonelius Oliver
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