At the Saturday hop
the village hall is heaving
with enthusiastic boppers.
To insistent beat they swing
and swivel, rotate their hips
to dance the twist.
The morning after
the village is all groaning
To a man they suffer agonies,
abjure rocking and rolling.
Bjorn at dVerse wants a 44 word poem with the word dance as a verb used with an object. How precise!
Vivinfrance's Blog 
In those days you didn’t care about the consequences as youthought you were invincible; nowadays everything you do has to be evaluated lest you damage something!
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I’d be stiff too!
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This is great, Viv. You captured the ecstasy and the agony of bopping the night away. I haven’t done that in ages, and it’s just as well too. :~)
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🙂
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I could hear the music….and some pain is worth it! 🙂
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oh and didn’t we all have fun? And then groaned on the way home.
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Everybody did the twist – in all variations of energy. Great dance and I still do it for exercise. What fun this poem is. Come on baby, let’s do the twist!!!!
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again, like we did 50 years ago
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Ah… that morning after can be horrendous. This poem, however; was delicious.
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Oh, yes. That morning after. I felt this, on both ends.
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Ha, dances like the twist make a person use muscles they hadn’t used in quite a while…..momentary enjoyment and suffering later. But the fun is worth it for sure!
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I love to do the twist…what fun though it can mean a lot of aches the next morning ~ Thanks for joining us Viv~
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Dancing in the gym, greased back locks, duck-tails, white suede bucks, big open collars, James Dean tight jeans, dual glass packs, chewing gum as our hips gyrated; still stuck between the 40’s bopping, dipping, & swinging & the freedom of free form high-stepping to the Led Zeppelin; oh, what fun, what memories dredged up & dripping & drenched with adolescent flop sweat; sweet.
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You’re very polite: in my day (probably not far away from yours) duck-tails were known as DA, for duck’s arse!
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Age probably had caught up with the efforts to do well. Good to be brought back to Chubby Checker’s days!
Hank
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Delightful. I can picture it all. Good morning, Viv. >
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Good moaning!
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I would actually love to feel a little of that kind of pain… there are good pains and bad ones… this is mostly good.
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Brings back a lot of memories…days of Rock n Roll in the 50’s & 60’s….
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After a night at the club on Saturdays, dancing away to reggae and soul music, wearing the most impossibly impractical shoes, I remember the ecstasy of taking them off on the bus and walking the rest of the way home barefoot. I also hadn’t had my ears pierced then so wore cheap clip on earrings that would be agony by the end of the night but I wouldn’t take them off until I was on my way home. Those were the days 😉
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I remember evenings like that… and am slightly grateful I’m well past it!
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