Your prompt word this week is
MOOD
This word reflects how we feel. Happy, sad, anxious, angry, calm or fearful, for example. You can set a mood, through different lighting and and accessories. We might also be in the mood to do something – or not. What does this week’s prompt word mean to you?
Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt, but there’s no obligation to share your writing. Here is the work you shared on the last prompt DANCE.
Dancing Together
The road ahead goes on and on.
I dance down it and sing a song
and you can come and sing along.
Then we could dance together.
Letters Dancing
I’d been out after work and was travelling home on the last Central Line train.
I’d picked up a discarded Metro and was doing the crossword, but the letters started dancing around in front of me.
I blinked… and looked again. The letters really were dancing… I think it was the Gay Gordons. The circling letters spelled OKSNARESBRO.
K and S shuffled apart; perhaps they’d argued… now I saw it!
SNARESBROOK.
That was a coincidence, I thought, Snaresbrook being a stop on the Central Line. In fact, it was the stop after mine. I had two more stops to go; then I’d be home. I rested my eyes.
The train jerked as it pulled out of the station, and the newspaper slipped off my lap. I bent to retrieve it. As I straightened up, I caught sight of the accelerating sign at the end of the platform that flashed past. Snaresbrook?
No-o-o!
At South Woodford, raindrops began to dance on the pavement around me as I started the long walk home.
Rall:
dance of the sugar plum fairy
nice childhood recollections
in a world without war
The Basics
Balance
defines the dance.
Success at footwork counts.
(A ballerina off the beat
will fail.)
Love Dance, A Reprise
how do you tell time,
in seconds, in minutes, in hours?
for when you move, time is of no essence.
you speed up, you slow down,
and in between, time stops—
my breath stops.
i watch you in awe, in admiration,
and time stands still.
i fall in love.
how do you glide through space,
with lines so deliberate and so precise?
i can barely follow,
as your body flows in perfect motion.
i watch you in awe, in admiration,
and time pauses.
i fall in love.
how do you wield force,
with movements both sharp and smooth?
you are strong, even in the lightest step—
a tiptoe, full of intent,
each motion an art.
i watch you in awe, in admiration,
and time halts.
i fall in love.
with you,
over and over—
in time, in space, and in full force.
i love you
as i love the way you move,
in harmony with time, with space, with force.
Not every dance
needs music.
Sometimes it is the wind
moving through tall grass,
or waves
folding themselves
onto the shore.
Sometimes it is two shadows
crossing the same street
at dusk.
We dance without knowing it —
in laughter,
in grief,
in the quiet turning
of seasons.
Even the stars
keep rhythm
in the dark.
And somewhere inside us
a small spark
still remembers
how to move
with the universe.
Click here for several super responses to the prompt. My favourite is National Dance like a Chicken Day.
The tall stranger asked Marvin to dance. When Marvin said, “I don’t dance, don’t ask me,” the stranger started shooting his revolver at the floor. Marvin is still dancing.
Susan Batten:
I held him close. We kissed. The music played on…”Dance Away” … so he did.
The dance ended when the guitar string stopped ringing. But the blooming romance was just getting started.
Tony:
Thousand dances,
There is the dance of the crowds, drunk with flags,
the dance of the powerful on invisible scaffolds,
and the dance darkens wars where iron imposes its choreography.
But there is another dance.
The inner dance of the one who falls and gets up.
The dance of a consciousness that refuses the night.
The fragile dance of an outstretched hand in the fracas of the world.
Dancing is not freezing.
Dancing is defying the gravity of despair.
And when the last dance comes,
that our steps have at least sought the light.
I love to dance, and so did he,
Except he wouldn’t dance with me,
Said that I had two right feet
Which didn’t match his left in beat,
And so we danced our own sweet way,
He jived and dipped, then watched me sway:
I glided slowly across the floor
The crowd all cheered and yelled for more,
My veils removed with modest grace
As he fell flat upon his face.
Et Tutu?
Dare
Airy steps
Nimble tip tap toes
Circular spin imagined ballet
Entertains
There’s more than a chance
If you choose to dance
That my wandering glance
Might find you
And then perchance
In a kind of trance
A long romance
Might surround you
So please don’t care
If I stand and stare
Perhaps you would dare
Me to join you
There’s spring in the air
I don’t care what you wear
Dance like there’s nobody there
To see you.
two left feet
and ten thumbs
pals are not always chums
dance with the ball girl
and say hey
the ball is in your court lover!
Dissolving, sinking down, lower with each day
Dance with the lights on, feel some new joy
Distribute love to the masses, come what may
No mates around, neither girl or a boy
In summary, life quickly hits a new low
Things weigh down like meat on a scale
With up as the only direction to go
Hoping the chance is zero to fail
Dance like nobody’s watching tonight,
Let your worries fall loose from their seams;
Feet whisper sparks in the quiet moonlight.
Dance like nobody’s watching tonight.
Spin past the edges of doubt and of fright,
Drift through the hush of impossible dreams.
Dance like nobody’s watching tonight,
Let your worries fall loose from their seams.
Dawgy Daddy Responds:
A puppy was startled in the dead of the night
By the black cat’s hiss in the neon moons light
The puppy was quick to do a circling dance
Beginning the start of an unlikely romance
Two steppin’ into the morning felt so right
For Debbie’s wonderful poem, pictures and snippets on dance, click here
Inactivity – immersion
Slowly waking from a dance of dreams,
lazy bones melding into Memory Foam,
mercurial, failing to materialize,
another course of reading, weaving and writing,
favorite inactivities, life in an armchair
Pirouettes if Personal Freedom
Once upon a Monday, or maybe it was a Thursday,
I said yes so many times I forgot my own birthday.
“Can you do this?” “Sure!” I’d grin and nod,
“Can you do that?” “Absolutely!” oh my poor, exhausted God.
My life was a conga line I never joined willingly,
A waltz of obligations, moving ceaselessly.
I twirled in deadlines, dipped in demands,
I moonwalked through chaos with shaky hands.
Then I saw her, my tiny guru of sass,
A Tanjore doll on my desk, waving her arms in class.
She shook her head like, “Enough of that nonsense!”
Her little hips said it all, oh, the perfect doll dance!
And suddenly I realized, mid-salsa of guilt,
That I was the doll, all by default built.
Head shaking yes, body in rhythm with others,
A professional performer of favors to brothers and mothers.
But then came the music I actually liked,
The tunes that tickled, the beats that psyched.
I stomped to my coffee, I twirled at my tea,
I shimmed at the sight of my own company.
The dance of “no” – oh, the glorious dance!
I sway when I want, I jump at the chance.
No more pirouettes for strangers’ delight,
I tango in slippers in the soft morning light.
The macarena of me, the freestyle of rest,
The polka of boundaries – I perform my best.
I groove to my heartbeat, I cha-cha with glee,
I’ve learned the rhythm of finally being free.
Yes, life still asks, “Could you…?” with a wink,
But now I shake my head, I take time to think.
I dip, I duck, I shimmy, I say, “No, thanks!”
I’m the DJ, the dancer, the master of pranks.
So here’s to the dance, unchoreographed, true,
The two step of self-love, the foxtrot of “phew!”
I twirl, I stomp, I spin without rest,
I finally perform for the one I love best – me.
No curtain calls needed, no audience to please,
Just me and my tunes, and my own dancing knees.
And if anyone asks why I boogie alone,
I smile, shake my head, and claim the throne.
The throne of my choices, my life, my delight,
The disco of freedom, my own sparkling night.
So watch me, world – I’ll dance till I drop,
But only to my music. No favors. Nonstop.
Dance on the Moon
We’ll dance
On the moon tonight, my love
Apparitions appear far up above
Planets align in morning sky
Shining bright, the time is nigh
Our hearts will pulse, our feet will shuffle
Velvety silence, no wind to ruffle
An orchestra of planets
on high
tiny toes
fitting ballet shoes
this her dream
–
lessons tried
failure from teacher
too wild
–
imagine
her dance from dreaming
tutu soars
Dancing Through Life
It was said she danced her way through life. She found rhythm in unexpected places. She moved to music that no one else could hear, and patterns her feet couldn’t help tracing. Her fingers danced across the page, a poetic symphony. Her smile danced across her face, brightening the lives with quiet felicity. She never seemed to miss a step, she made each move with seemingly effortless grace. Each slip, each stumble, she’d reconcile, make even awkwardness seem to have its place. Her heart had a song that suffused her every move, with poise and precision she found her groove. She lived to invite others to join the dance, to open their hearts, to take the chance. Whether waltz or tango, salsa or swing, ballet or simply free-style, she found ways to dance, and it made life worth while.
Two Step
a Finch’s first spring dance
finding new shoots in snowmelt—
seasonal two step
Free Dancing
dancing in the living room
to The Beatles Twist and Shout
shaking off all the gloom
working it all out
will I dance tomorrow?
you better believe it mate
because there’s always something to look forward to tomorrow
and free dancing feels great
I do a little bit of a twist
a bit of rock around the clock
I like to give it my best
a bit of pop and lock
if anyone wants to join me
rock, techno, blues or pop
there’s no aggro or shaming
just celebrating music until you drop
Dancing To The Tune
Dancing doesn’t come naturally to me. In our culture it is customary for small children to participate in dance dramas during Durga Puja Festival. However, for me it was an ordeal as I was never sure of my steps.
When posted in Kolkata, my Anglo Indian colleague invited me to her house party. For a Bengali party means adda that is a robust exchange of views on any subject ranging from the political situation in Peru to the latest scandal in the neighborhood and everything in between.
As the evening wore on couples got up and started dancing. It was not only unexpected but scary – if someone asked me to dance!
One of our big guns in the office loved dancing. In get togethers organised in his honour he insisted every one should dance with him. I always excused myself from these events.
I love to watch others dance as long as I am not asked to. But who can escape the calamitous dance of Nature? Back in Kolkata waiting at the bus stop I witnessed the electrifying dance of a purple shaft of lightning striking the asphalt with an unbelievable speed. I was saved. It could have fallen on me.
When in 1978, a tornado hit the North Delhi University Campus, my elder sister was right there inside a waiting bus. Seeing another one plying first she switched over to it to reach home fast. Both the buses started moving one after the other. Midway she looked back to find the bus she had just left tumble over as wind at the speed of 80-90 Km. per hour hit it.
Our old newspaper seller once told us how he had a narrow escape. Caught in a torrential downpour he had taken shelter under a shady tree. On an impulse he thought of taking to the road. As soon as he moved out of the shade lightning struck and the tree rose in flames. Ram Ram, as we knew him, got his name from his habit of constantly reciting the name of Lord Rama all the time.
As I recall these instances, I get the feeling more than ever that we are all dancing to the tune of an invisible player – steps unknown. Only He knows when we are to take a turn or skip a beat or do a pirouette or break into a jig.
Stillness of the field
Children’s dream
Listen as the fields throb in songs
The sun hiding in shield
Spring gleam
Dance to seal and correct the wrongs
In white as they circle
It means what?
Atonement of the past perhaps
Dancing in a purpose
There’s no but
Mobs and guns found in ancient maps
Spirits of the dead
Hazy day
Centre of a circle of stones
Where our forefathers tread
By the bay
Underneath the skull and crossbones
Lou by the Sea:
Let’s Dance
Walk my two big dogs on the tow path on a Sunday in August? I should never have started. I consider the wide open armed cliffs instead, where the gentle sea breeze offers a clean air exchange. But I’m feeling too lazy to negotiate the climb up from the beach.
The sun is shining, bouncing off the water. The river gurgles next to the canal and the tall reeds sway in the breeze. I decide to continue. How bad can it be? I’ll consider it a dance.
Children throwing bread for the ducks? Delightful! Woah! See me side slide lunge in the best Rumba fashion as my greedy dog pulls me toward a mis-thrown crumb. Yes, I meant to do that. My dancing skills are advanced. I just felt like showing off.
Oversized mobility scooters? No problem. I’ll just thrust my hips into the hawthorn hedge here in the best Paso Doble style hugging the muddy edges to allow passing. A polite good morning and smile from me as he whizzes past without so much of a thank you. As I scrape the poo from my shoe and curse under my breath I consider what a hypocrite I’ve become.
OK, we can do this. Onwards and upwards. The sun is shining. We must all be jolly. It’s the English way. Continue…Fight the good fight. Remember to dance.
Side step the double push chair and slide back, two, three, four as a dog lead gets caught in pram spokes. Ooops! There goes that child’s drippy ice cream cone in one slobbery gulp. My dogs don’t dance. Ah well – children learn from experience. Don’t hang your vanilla 99 temptation over the edge of your chariot child. The dog can be forgiven for presuming it’s a sweet offering. “Grrr,” I think.
Uh-oh! Trouble ahead. Two terriers running fast towards us off lead, their owners laughing and pointing at their babies having fun. Not so to my Lurchers who regard them as heavily disguised rabbits, one with a pink collar, the other with blue. They think we want to play. Nope! What? You want to JIVE? Now? It’s a scramble, a hip- hop break dance of tangled leads and flying fur that none of us can catch. No damage done, the snarling darlings made it sound worse than it looked and they merrily go on their way.
And breathe…relax…the crowds have gone. Let’s just sit on this bench for a while and watch the swans. Look at them gracefully paddling along, a serene scene. Elegantly encountering each other, negotiating their way, sometimes their necks entwining, enjoying a waltz in their wedding dresses.
I just manage to stop myself from drifting off to sleep and re-start our stroll. My dog’s tails start to wag and their ears fold back in the way that says “hello, I like you”. Coming towards us is a gentleman. I describe him that way intentionally. My dogs can always tell the gentle people apart from those who mean them harm, remembering their history. His hair is white and catches the sunlight and his stick helps to negotiate the narrow path. We move out of his way to the left, as does he, we move to the right, as does he, and we both laugh. “Shall we dance?” we both say. I was joking but he smiles and I understand the harmless twinkle in his eye. “I’d be delighted” I say and reach up to meet his arms outstretched as we have a little waltz 2,3,4 on the tow path.
He bids me good day and we walk on our way. A good day indeed.
Reflections of Elegance: A Dance Beyond the Veil
“Welcome to this week’s dance class, everyone. For those first-timers, I’m Michael, your instructor. Let’s begin with introductions from the first-timers.”
They moved around the circle, nervous laughter flitting between strangers. more so when Tom, dressed in a top hat and tails, introduced himself. When they finished, Michael counted again.
Eleven. An odd number.
“Well,” he smiled, clapping once, “who’d like to partner with me? Maggie?”
“I’m with Emily, my wife,” announced Maggie.
“Tom?” Michael gestured. “You don’t mind dancing with another man, do you? After all, you’re dressed for the part.”
Tom looked horrified. “Why would I dance with a man? I’m here with my wife.”
There was a polite pause while everyone waited for Tom’s wife to reveal herself. A few people looked towards all the empty space around Tom.
“Of course,” Michael said casually as he broke the silence. “Right, take your positions, everyone. I’ve some hits of the eighties to dance to later, but first we’re going to do an old-fashioned waltz.”
Tom frowned before music filled the room, and shoes softly whispered over polished wood. Partners turned, stepped, and breathed together.
Tom moved carefully, one hand curved around an invisible waist, the other clasping fingers no one else could see. Every now and then, Michael and the other dancers watched Tom smile as he spoke to himself.
“Tom,” Michael said gently, as he approached the edge of the mirror. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re dancing alone.”
“But she’s right here with me. We’ve been coming here for years,” he said as he faced Michael and the large, mirrored wall. “Tell him, Darling.”
In the room, the figure of a much younger woman in a ball gown appeared in Tom’s arms.
Maggie gasped. Emily staggered backwards while Michael felt the air leave his lungs.
The woman kissed Tom on the cheek, leaving lipstick on his face, and then lifted a hand and pressed it flat against the mirror.
Inside the mirror, Michael and the other dancers started to scream. Tom watched as their reflections shattered into tiny pieces along with the mirror before he and his wife left the room.
Outside the old music hall, where many from the past once danced, the ghostly figures of a man in a top hat and tails and a woman in a ball gown departed the hall once more. Tom hadn’t liked the glimpse of the future he had seen in the mirror.
Redux: And We Dance
the moon high and full
soothing and warm.
me in red silk
you, all in black.
we glide above the floor,
you the wick, and i the flame.
consumed. devoured.
we sing, beloved love songs
no one else can hear.
i the melody,
you the refrain.
your lips fall,
soft upon my throat,
leaving behind
the essence,
of a warm wet wind
where your tongue has been.
you caress me with your lips,
you trace my soul,
marking me.
the sweet scent of you
upon my flesh,
becomes mine.
your eyes concealed,
you are silhouetted
in the cool iridescent glow
of the candlelight moon.
you draw me in.
i cleave to you,
afraid to offset
our delicate balance.
and we dance…
the warm humid breeze
of your breath on my neck,
becomes cool.
shivering, i become aware
of a cold wind in the trees.
it sweeps against my cheek,
scattering my dream of you,
and, i am left alone,
in the moonlight,
striving to hear unsung songs
face pressed ever so tightly
atop the soft flesh
of my own arm,
the trail of your kisses
down the softest part of my throat
traced- a path
of my own tears…
***
Image credit: The Life Store
Esther Chilton 
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