The Great Dance

An "uptempo" number. Somiah, you might like this. A love poem.

Start Mister Benny Goodman at 1:25 and begin dancing. “Sing, Sing, Sing” is the soundtrack of this poem, they are as inseparable as lovers in love. That this song came out in 1936 is truly mind boggling. Louis Prima was the man who composed it and people lit up the floors.

                          Such A Dance

            I feel a drumming all this year,
                  a pounding in my chest
                    that echos in my ear.
                 Let’s hit the dance floor
              and see what spins are for.
          The music whips up a measure,
                    begging for a dance,
               that sweet filled pleasure.
                    Hands gripping fast,
                   feet beating a tattoo-
                      you hold onto me
                    and I hold onto you.
                  I pray this never ends
            (I cannot quit this carousel!)
                   but should there be
                     a slip of our hand,
                      it’s up to gravity
                  where we shall land.
              A beckoning smile leads
               to an unending carnival
                       of long kisses
                and longer embraces.
          Was there ever such a thing
               as love, to spin a wink
               into the grandest folly.
               It began with a glance
            but the sparks that rained
          from that combusting dance
          fell like meteors on a tin roof.
              It will drum up that song,
               and we will hit the floor,
            again and again like a fury,
               to be snatched up into
                  the giddiest frenzy,
             pinwheels in a hurricane, 
              dazzled by this typhoon
                   roaring around us.
                We are at the center
                    a whirligig of joy,
          an exquisite merry-go-round,
         the world, spinning around us,
           can only dream in dreams.

                           5/2020

A purely sensory poem, driven by "Sing, Sing,Sing".
Arriving gently and quietly, like a bobcat out of a suitcase.  
It took a while to make some sense of it but who can
make sense of love, from its tiny beginnings
to the giant force it can wield. Who can
believe a tornado begins somewhere
with just a puff of air?

This is the original musical version by Louis Prima with the kind of dancing that really heats up the place. Yowza.