Tag Archives: dancing poems

Ballroom Intervention: Trod Upon Blues

Ballroom Intervention:
Trod Upon Blues

This gratuitous violence that you insist is dancing
insures that there will definitely be no further prancing.
I don’t intend to be the victim of your future trodding.
My toes can’t take another night of your infernal plodding.
If you must sashay, my dear, I think it would be fine
if you took a few lessons to insure that you will shine
when next you ask a girl to dance, lest your skills depreciate
to a level where the least of us will not appreciate
your extended hand out to ask us for a dance.
I’m afraid not one of us is willing now to chance
damage to her Manolos, let alone her toes.
We’ll simply have to get along with more accomplished beaus.
So with most loving intentions, we’ve all chipped in to buy
a coupon for dance lessons for our favorite clumsy guy.
We hope that you will take it in the way that it’s intended,
and that you won’t be angry, downhearted or offended.
Please accept these lessons, dear. After just a few
instead of asking us to dance, we’ll be asking you!

 

 

Prompt words today are night, sashay, gratuitous and shine.

 

  1. uncalled for; lacking good reason; unwarranted.
    “gratuitous violence”
    sinónimos: unjustified, without reason, uncalled for, unwarrantedunprovokedundueMás

  2. 2.
    given or done free of charge.

Unfortunate Fashion Choices

Unfortunate Fashion Choices

The dancer wore a tube top, for a hat, flowers with pot.
His partner was a pistol freshly fired, really hot.
She didn’t get his outfit. She didn’t groove his vibes.
Wherever he had touched her, she soon broke out in hives.
The moves that he suggested were not what she desired.
Instead of feeling challenged, she just felt merely tired.

He found he could not lead her, so he followed her instead—
reading her faint signals, going everywhere she said.
When the stereo instructions told them to embrace,
she did a dive under his arm to evade his face.
She danced herself around him and directed him to kneel,
and when she jumped up on his back, she speared him with her heel.

All-in-all,  total disaster, for when he dipped her down,
her bodice ripped asunder. Parts popped out of her gown.
He quickly pulled his tube top off and pulled it o’er her head.
Pulled out his pocket sewing kit—his needle and his thread.
He sewed up her damaged bodice and she retired to the loo
to change her top and do whatever girls in bathrooms do.

He waited there bare-breasted with the soil sifting down
from the damaged flower pot, turning his shoulders brown.
When she returned, he took her home. The blind date was a flop.
He should have worn a derby hat and a different top.
His good-night kiss rejected, he stood on her veranda,
ruing the fact he’d styled himself after Carmen Miranda!

 

The three “things” are: flower pot, stereo instructions, dancer and the link to the prompt is: https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/08/24/three-things-challenge-24-august-2018/

Double Snap!

Double Snap!

“Clap hands,” they said, “Clap hands
to the music,” and we all obeyed
that 50’s and 60’s band
that we might have followed anywhere–
out the door and across the street into the ocean
like geriatric children following a Pied Piper.

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As we had when the music was new,
we gyrated and sweated,
bumped hips, jitterbugged,
did swing and wild improvisation

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at Palapa Joe’s.
Joe himself barefoot at the keyboard,

a bookend to Denise at the drums.
And we? We are as hot
as this February night.

“Oh to be young again” is not in anyone’s vocabulary,
for we are teenagers again below the Tropic of Cancer.
In the ocean or in front of it,
sipping the sunset from tiny cobalt glasses,

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watching children move toy trucks down sandy roads
of their imagination

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and teenagers elfin in the surf.

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The sun falling falling farther northwards every day
until that March day we waited for every year when it sank
directly behind the offshore island.

Snap. It is gone.
Double snap. So are we.

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Here’s more of a photo story about Palapa Joe’s if you are interested:
 https://judydykstrabrown.com/2016/02/28/last-open-mike-of-the-season-at-palapa-joes/

The NaPoWriMo prompt was “double” and the WordPress prompt was “snap” so I combined them today…Here are links to those prompt sites in case you want to play along:
http://www.napowrimo.net/day-fifteen-2/
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/snap/

The Dance

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The Dance

Cheek to cheek and toe to toe,
whenever graceful dancers go
smoothly passing while I stand by
feet motionless, with dancing eye,
jealousy may rear her head
as I wish that it were me, instead–
held securely in my partner’s arms,
guided surely away from harms
of other dancers’ straying feet
or jutting elbows I might meet.

Steered through dangers into bliss
barely meeting the floor’s long kiss
as I soar and bend and sway and glide,
giving way to what’s inside
the music coming to live in me
setting all that’s in me free
stirring sadness at my core
and leaving it upon the floor
for other dancers to kick away
while only light parts choose to stay
within my heart as I dance on
from dark of night into the dawn.

I might feel sorry, sitting there,
no arms around me–only air.
Then I remember in the past
dancing nights I thought would last–
how all those partners have stepped away–
even the ones I hoped would stay.

Life has a way of leaving us
like hopeful riders passed by the bus
as it soars away with no seat left
those left behind feeling bereft.
Then I look deeper and clearly see
one day that bus will stop for me.
Something heavy grows inside
where it’s not good for it to bide.
I scoot back my chair to shift that stone
as I get up and dance alone.


The Prompt: The Green-Eyed Lady–We all get jealous now and then.  What awakens the green-eyed lady in you?

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/green-eyed-lady/

I’ve Come Undone

I’ve Come Undone

If I could undo anything that’s happened in my life,
I would not undo enemies or illnesses or strife.
For all led up to my life now that really isn’t bad.
All given, I am happy, and frequently I’m glad.
My palm trees may need clipping and my dogs may have the mange,
but all in all there’s really only one thing I would change.
I’d undo one tequila or two or three or four.
I think that that is all I drank. I can’t remember more.
And after that, that dance I did as others ringed the floor?
I fear I chose to party when I should have chosen the door!

And that knee I rocked on back and forth, remembering the twist?
I fear I chose to overdo instead of to desist.
My friends did not remove me, but cheered me on instead.
And now I have a throbbing knee and needles in my head.
That knee I’d earlier injured when I fell on cobblestones
had healed, I thought, relieving all that aching in my bones.
But now I’m hobbling back and forth–gimpy once again,
for you gotta pay the piper when you choose a life of sin.
I know my knee will heal and that this agony will end,
but please remind me next time that tequila’s not my friend!!

The Prompt: If you could undo something, what would it be? Discuss why, potential repercussions, or a possible alternative.