there was a sort of waltz to the seasons in the San Juans.. the music was dictated by the rains and the tides….high/low; up/down. It was an unhurried dance at once sexual and not.
i like to waltz, especiallly, on one off those long parties my family is involved in. because my mother was always alone at those parties(meaning my dad was somewhere else) I was forced to learn and waltz with her among all the other “important” people my mom had to work with.
well, I get the feeling at about this time in the evening that if i have to smile politely at one more person then i’ll just start upending the tables and stamping out the place, shouting about the god damn politicians or something – whatever, anything that doesn’t make enough sense to mean anything. And then the partners switch one more time and there’s Maggie in pearls and skirts up the side of the corridors and-
Beautiful dance between a couple dressed to the tees in gowns and tuxes. Swinging around the dance floor to a 1 2 3 step holding each other close and looking into each others eyes.
to waltz is to float above the vagarities of life – adrift in a world of romance and possibility. to waltz is to leave the real world behind and dream.
A waltz is a dance I’ll never get to do. Lonely is the word for me. I’d love to waltz but I’m uncoordinated and a doofus. Who would ever dance with someone so fumbling and invisible? A pretty dance.. one I’ll never get to do.
sometimes when my father and i would have a chance to go out without my many brothers and sisters, he would take me to a place called “Friggers”. Here, he taught me how to waltz. I am proud to say, I’m a beast now.
it was a cold night but she didn’t care for she was on the deck of a beautiful ship with the love of her life. He took her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist as they began to waltz, two silhouttes of love on the deck of the san franando steam boat.
step to the left step to the right… dancing is just a part of life that every one experiances wheather its dancing for freedom, life, or even just for pleasure always remember to never look down. Keep your head up
dance dance dance i dance all day i dance around thoughts in my head spinning weaving dodging dancing my life is a calculated dance each step is plotted out meticulouslynow to find the plotter
waltzing around
befuddled
amazed
in awe
i don’t know how
someone like you
could ever exist
sure, you might have a
little bit
of a past,
but you’re just perfection
now.
around a giant ballroom, the lights down low and romance all around. Outside, the crickets are quiet and the night air is still. The couple in the middle of the room are slowly dancing to a melody. This is their evening.
I like to dance but I’ve never waltzed before. At least I can’t say I’ve waltzed with the intention of waltzing. I’ve been in my room along and moved to music in my head of 2/3 timing, as well as pretended there was a partner by holding up my arm in the air to just space while moving around.
the waltz was slow and beautiful. we swayed back and forth as smoothly as the waves crash into the sand. over and over the music moved us around the floor until we felt the rapture of exhuastion take over and we crashed into our bed together. the waltz brought us together like never before.
One-two-step, don’t step on toes..please don’t… “Ouch!” he said with a laugh, “Sorry, sorry I’m trying!”
“It’s fine here,” he lifted my chin so that I was looking at him, “keep your eyes one me.”
“..okay.” I said feeling my self blush as I looked into his blue eyes. One-two-step, one-two-step. I counted in my head, my eyes still locked on his. Soon I found myself getting lost in his eyes, I was sucked into a world where it was alone me and him. I was completely oblivious to the fact that there was other people in the room. I was faintly aware that the music had stopped and yet we were still caught up n our own waltz. The waltz of love.
trip me round this room,
laden with candles and old men’s capers,
the drift of something a hundred year ago
has seeped into your hair,
has seeped into your clothes
step forward,
echo backwards
clutch me within your parameter
counteract the worlds rotation
and the clock’s hands
but just dont trip me.
I once waltzed with Anastasia the pirncess of russia. She was beautiful in a long blue dress. She smelt like paradise and she looked up at me and begged me to take her away. She knew what was coming.
to waltz is to dance is to go through life. waltzing through life is wonderful its not to fast and not to slow…and it is a very sweet dance through life. so i shall not meander throught life but i shall waltz.
there was a beautiful ballroom in a castle on the hill. There was to be a party that night. They were going to waltz and tango and dance their hearts out. That night was not to be. Sadly enough, that night was to be destroyed and life as they know it was going to change.
I don’t know that I have ever used the word waltz in a conversation. My parents probably did, “don’t come waltzing in here like that” or “did u see the way he just waltzed in here”. Hmmm, interesting word. lots of rhymes if you are into that too.
To dance.
To hold his hands.
I close my eyes and spin.
Round and round goes the world.
And the butterflies.
My stomach turns.
And churns.
BLARGH!
Never let alcohol waltz with your heart…or your stomach.
We waltz and waltz around each other but it’s not romantic, just time-consuming and meaningless. An extended goodbye. An excuse to not make conversation.
The triplets: in time with my shallow lungs’ breathing. I’m a little perplexed, but mostly unsure as to why this so conflated and got out of hand. You need to be a little more careful with the way you spell my name, dear.
I don’t understand the need to have organized dance moves. I mean, it just seems so pointless. Music plays, your body hits a certain stride, and it’s intuitive. Granted, people that practice their entire lives put on amazing displays of physical expression, but that dullard who takes some lame two-step class with his girlfriend at some community college?
One.Two.Three.Four.One.Two.Three.Four.”Dont look at you feet”he says”look at me.I raise my gaze to his warm brown eyes and I realize I would be perfectly happy to stay like this forever.With his eyes locked on mine,his arm around my waist and our feet perpetually beating out that strangely soothing rhythm.One.Two.Three.Four.One.Two.Three.Four
we ran through the arcade locked in ourr arms, swaying from side to side inbetween the stalls, as if in some crazed walts. i never moved like that before, so animalistic, so primal, such rhythm.
I think about really romantic dances with other people that you love. It reminds me of old timey stuff, like a grandfather clock or something. I wish we still did things like waltzing and went to balls and stuff. I wish our time now was more romantic. Things wouldn’t be so artificial. More meaning to everything.
Waltz? Like the dance? I never got to learn how to dance, but I always wanted to. I was always really jealous of the people who could. I would spend hours watching real dancers and trying to mimic them. I failed. In my senior year, I was really excited about the dance class everyone was supposed to have, but it got canceled for football. I really hate football, and now it’s even worse.
I was dancing and I did the waltz it was pretty amazing sense I have no idea how to do the waltz. But sense the shrooms I had eaten started to kick in everything seemed just right as if I new how to do this dance from the moment I had been born. But the sound of the music made me trip harder.
Hello, my name is Mr. Waltz. I am a teacher at Coconut Creek high. All the kids in school hated me and brought my name Waltz to everyother kids attention not to get in my class. I’ve been known for a bad reput
I would be waltzed by you, if you would only show up and do the asking. I would follow you, box-stepping, one-two-three, one-two-three, around the dance floor. And baby if you would waltz with me, I think I could breathe easier, smile quicker, laugh louder. I’m just waiting for you to do the asking, so we can begin the waltzing, and I can stop my waiting, and life can finally begin.
there was a sort of waltz to the seasons in the San Juans.. the music was dictated by the rains and the tides….high/low; up/down. It was an unhurried dance at once sexual and not.
i like to waltz, especiallly, on one off those long parties my family is involved in. because my mother was always alone at those parties(meaning my dad was somewhere else) I was forced to learn and waltz with her among all the other “important” people my mom had to work with.
well, I get the feeling at about this time in the evening that if i have to smile politely at one more person then i’ll just start upending the tables and stamping out the place, shouting about the god damn politicians or something – whatever, anything that doesn’t make enough sense to mean anything. And then the partners switch one more time and there’s Maggie in pearls and skirts up the side of the corridors and-
Beautiful dance between a couple dressed to the tees in gowns and tuxes. Swinging around the dance floor to a 1 2 3 step holding each other close and looking into each others eyes.
to waltz is to float above the vagarities of life – adrift in a world of romance and possibility. to waltz is to leave the real world behind and dream.
A waltz is a dance I’ll never get to do. Lonely is the word for me. I’d love to waltz but I’m uncoordinated and a doofus. Who would ever dance with someone so fumbling and invisible? A pretty dance.. one I’ll never get to do.
sometimes when my father and i would have a chance to go out without my many brothers and sisters, he would take me to a place called “Friggers”. Here, he taught me how to waltz. I am proud to say, I’m a beast now.
it was a cold night but she didn’t care for she was on the deck of a beautiful ship with the love of her life. He took her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist as they began to waltz, two silhouttes of love on the deck of the san franando steam boat.
what can you say about the waltz. a passionate, loving embrace in dance. a three beat honour to engage. a blessing.
step to the left step to the right… dancing is just a part of life that every one experiances wheather its dancing for freedom, life, or even just for pleasure always remember to never look down. Keep your head up
dance dance dance i dance all day i dance around thoughts in my head spinning weaving dodging dancing my life is a calculated dance each step is plotted out meticulouslynow to find the plotter
waltzing around
befuddled
amazed
in awe
i don’t know how
someone like you
could ever exist
sure, you might have a
little bit
of a past,
but you’re just perfection
now.
around a giant ballroom, the lights down low and romance all around. Outside, the crickets are quiet and the night air is still. The couple in the middle of the room are slowly dancing to a melody. This is their evening.
I like to dance but I’ve never waltzed before. At least I can’t say I’ve waltzed with the intention of waltzing. I’ve been in my room along and moved to music in my head of 2/3 timing, as well as pretended there was a partner by holding up my arm in the air to just space while moving around.
the waltz was slow and beautiful. we swayed back and forth as smoothly as the waves crash into the sand. over and over the music moved us around the floor until we felt the rapture of exhuastion take over and we crashed into our bed together. the waltz brought us together like never before.
One-two-step, don’t step on toes..please don’t… “Ouch!” he said with a laugh, “Sorry, sorry I’m trying!”
“It’s fine here,” he lifted my chin so that I was looking at him, “keep your eyes one me.”
“..okay.” I said feeling my self blush as I looked into his blue eyes. One-two-step, one-two-step. I counted in my head, my eyes still locked on his. Soon I found myself getting lost in his eyes, I was sucked into a world where it was alone me and him. I was completely oblivious to the fact that there was other people in the room. I was faintly aware that the music had stopped and yet we were still caught up n our own waltz. The waltz of love.
tennesee waltz
trip me round this room,
laden with candles and old men’s capers,
the drift of something a hundred year ago
has seeped into your hair,
has seeped into your clothes
step forward,
echo backwards
clutch me within your parameter
counteract the worlds rotation
and the clock’s hands
but just dont trip me.
I once waltzed with Anastasia the pirncess of russia. She was beautiful in a long blue dress. She smelt like paradise and she looked up at me and begged me to take her away. She knew what was coming.
to waltz is to dance is to go through life. waltzing through life is wonderful its not to fast and not to slow…and it is a very sweet dance through life. so i shall not meander throught life but i shall waltz.
beautiful dancer, slow and quiet dance, elegant, graceful, both in love. Gazing into each others eyes. Only for each other
you waltzed into my heart
dazzling me with your gaze
and your gentle holding of me
in front of your chest
strength exuding from inside
you waltzed into my heart
a melody I sweetly enjoy
one that’s recognizable
as I step in sync with you
our bodies connected to the rhythm
there was a beautiful ballroom in a castle on the hill. There was to be a party that night. They were going to waltz and tango and dance their hearts out. That night was not to be. Sadly enough, that night was to be destroyed and life as they know it was going to change.
I don’t know that I have ever used the word waltz in a conversation. My parents probably did, “don’t come waltzing in here like that” or “did u see the way he just waltzed in here”. Hmmm, interesting word. lots of rhymes if you are into that too.
To dance.
To hold his hands.
I close my eyes and spin.
Round and round goes the world.
And the butterflies.
My stomach turns.
And churns.
BLARGH!
Never let alcohol waltz with your heart…or your stomach.
We waltz and waltz around each other but it’s not romantic, just time-consuming and meaningless. An extended goodbye. An excuse to not make conversation.
dancing the night away. floating on air. expressing emotion through moving. feeling the music set me free.
dancing nonstop. competing against other dancers. Being one with the music. Letting my feet do all the talking. Expressing emotion through movement.
there will never be
anything more beautiful
than dancing with you.
Dancing, whirling, spinning. Heels click on the smooth wood flooring and make a patter of sounds, music to accompany the silent dancers’ movements.
The triplets: in time with my shallow lungs’ breathing. I’m a little perplexed, but mostly unsure as to why this so conflated and got out of hand. You need to be a little more careful with the way you spell my name, dear.
I don’t understand the need to have organized dance moves. I mean, it just seems so pointless. Music plays, your body hits a certain stride, and it’s intuitive. Granted, people that practice their entire lives put on amazing displays of physical expression, but that dullard who takes some lame two-step class with his girlfriend at some community college?
I will never learn to waltz. but I would waltz with you…
One.Two.Three.Four.One.Two.Three.Four.”Dont look at you feet”he says”look at me.I raise my gaze to his warm brown eyes and I realize I would be perfectly happy to stay like this forever.With his eyes locked on mine,his arm around my waist and our feet perpetually beating out that strangely soothing rhythm.One.Two.Three.Four.One.Two.Three.Four
we ran through the arcade locked in ourr arms, swaying from side to side inbetween the stalls, as if in some crazed walts. i never moved like that before, so animalistic, so primal, such rhythm.
I think about really romantic dances with other people that you love. It reminds me of old timey stuff, like a grandfather clock or something. I wish we still did things like waltzing and went to balls and stuff. I wish our time now was more romantic. Things wouldn’t be so artificial. More meaning to everything.
Waltz? Like the dance? I never got to learn how to dance, but I always wanted to. I was always really jealous of the people who could. I would spend hours watching real dancers and trying to mimic them. I failed. In my senior year, I was really excited about the dance class everyone was supposed to have, but it got canceled for football. I really hate football, and now it’s even worse.
I was dancing and I did the waltz it was pretty amazing sense I have no idea how to do the waltz. But sense the shrooms I had eaten started to kick in everything seemed just right as if I new how to do this dance from the moment I had been born. But the sound of the music made me trip harder.
Hello, my name is Mr. Waltz. I am a teacher at Coconut Creek high. All the kids in school hated me and brought my name Waltz to everyother kids attention not to get in my class. I’ve been known for a bad reput
I would be waltzed by you, if you would only show up and do the asking. I would follow you, box-stepping, one-two-three, one-two-three, around the dance floor. And baby if you would waltz with me, I think I could breathe easier, smile quicker, laugh louder. I’m just waiting for you to do the asking, so we can begin the waltzing, and I can stop my waiting, and life can finally begin.