Instant poem about older women dancing

The dancing body
I am a wrinkled apple with an equator tied around what used to be a waist. Yet I am allowed to dance, my darlings. Turn away if you must. My upper half is crumpled but it works. Watch it stretch and bend and flick and flow— watch it go! Down in the Southern Hemisphere a committee intermittent struggles to keep control. A single pain commutes from knee to arch of foot to hip. Warnings from the North Pole travel slow in Morse code and get diverted on the way. The Southern body will not bend or flip. It's all locked in like old Gondwanaland. It's not quite anarchy here in the dancing body more a quiet disagreement with the plan. ~Rachel McAlpine 2021~
Older women dancing
Our dance group, the Crows Feet, has just finished a happy season of our 2021 show, Carmina Burana.
Crows Feet shows are an acquired taste. We have our admirers 🙂 Audiences do not come to critique our style or to bask in our glorious perfection. They come to share the joy of watching older women dancing—women of all shapes and sizes dancing our hearts out in a cleverly devised original show. Some of us (not me) are talented dancers. The rest of us do our best and as a collective, we have our magic moments. This year, music, mediaeval costumes, slides of mediaeval art and some showy lighting boosted a full-on energetic Breughelish event. Hits this year included tavern scenes and a final dance that quietly referenced the black plague—and thus Covid.
The only criteria for belonging are that you are over 35. you want to dance, and you will commit to attending weekly rehearsals. Ours are not classes that you dip in and out of like Pilates or Zumba, but rehearsals for a new show every year. However, no training or experience or audition is required. That’s why I’m allowed to be one of the group. And at 81, I am inevitably no longer at my best.
Today’s instant poem lays out the situation of an aging body that’s still dancing.
I hope I’ll find a way of dancing even when I’m in a hospice or a hospital bed. One part of my body will surely still be working almost to the end. Maybe I will dance with my thumbs … or my intestines.
Follow Write Into Life
Dancing expresses our ageless spirit and soul… to those who have the vision and wisdom to see it. I love your post…. Keep dancing, please, so I can hear your music and feel your essence…. And remember to dance myself.
Yes, don’t stop dancing, Josaia!
I am rarely moved to comment and this time for two reasons. Your poem rocked me. I have complained that in my mid sixties I no longer get to dance. Thank you much for pointing out the error of my ways!
Oh Beth, that was worth breaking your no-commenting/ no-dancing rules!
I love both the poem and the attitude!
This is high-quality poetry!
Though the high kicks may not be quite so high…
Wonderful
Glad it hits the spot(light)
Anonymous is
You cannot disguise your handwriting, Derrick
Dancing, prancing, flailing arms
Creaking joints and sweating palms
Fallen arches, corns and gout
I love to dance, it gets me out!
Anything that triggers a Peter poem is worth posting
I enjoyed your poem. When I’m approaching the end of life, my hair will dance. Right now it flies away.
It’s rehearsing!
It’s the only exercise I enjoy. Bring on the music!
Almost any music can do the trick 🙂
Inspiring!
Crows Feet Dance Collective’s interpretation of Carmina Burana last Sunday was inspiring. Why haven’t I been dancing?
You were there! So glad and sorry the covid rules meant audience and performers couldn’t mingle
I long to return to the community folk dancing. It was there that I first understood that it is an all ages form from just walking kids to just walking elders.
That’s for sure. I hope you can join again soon. Meantime… Wiggle wiggle wiggle!
I did try my grandson’s hula hoop recently. Despite now having hips, unlike my child self, I couldn’t keep the thing up!
Practice makes perfect, then and now. I hope that’s not a lie.
I am afraid to try to perfect my hula hoop maneuvers, preferring to spare my lower back.
Very wise, of course. Take care.
Pardon my ignorance or bad manners, but is the ‘Southern Hemisphere’ in you poem what I think it is. Loved the poem.
The bottom half of me, from heels to hips. A metaphor:)
I got “a kick” out of this one, Rachel!
Ha ha!
How enjoyable. What a wonderful image.
Loved the poem and your comments on Carmina Burana. Really, Rach., at 93 I am not up to it, but love watching Crows Feet dancers, their enthusiasm and great presentations
This is so Much fun I love it
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Holly Jolly Laughter
Great poem! I loved it 🙂
Thank you, Quaranjavirus
Quite charming and humorous. Imma follow you straight away for more of ya poetry.
Thanks for these uplifting thoughts! You’ve inspired me to continue putting my own drawings into my blog. Best wishes.
Excellent outcome! (There, I have been useful.)