A trad wife boomer woman I know has quietly seethed for almost an entire week.
I had no idea because I am far too focused on writing poems with cool mystique.
I have been connecting with kind new people and keeping my wits sharp and sleek.
But her feelings don't mean anything to me anymore because she is sadly very rude.
For the last two years I have endured her jealousy and her prejudiced, sour attitude.
We would all be much better off if she went to therapy and developed some fortitude.
( in loving memory of JPR)
Nowhere to go, is this a bonus feed
Maybe a curse, although it’s too grandstanding
Born into nothing, I’ve got nowhere to proceed
As if I fly too high to care about the landing
In fact, it was much simpler in reality
Dystopian curators were too lazy
And too corrupted to maintain the trad brutality
Corruption is godsent when rules are crazy
So I felt free and acted loosely, dear friend
But times again were changing their course
Much faster, but I got them in the end
No wisdom’s wiser than that smile of yours..
A swift half of cider in the Bodega bar
sadly none of us could afford a car.
Dropping a shilling in the snug juke box
Haley and Elvis,then so unorthodox
Trad jazz with Donegan,Bilk or Collier
no ballroom bacchanalia
Skip,hip-hop style jive
50's music had come alive
Tea with Gran,her muffins supreme,
Bath and change and hair brylcreamed.
into town to the pub in the square,
our gang always met there.
Checking the football scores
in the Oxford 'green un'.
Trad jazz with Donegan,Bilk or Collier
or maybe the ballroom bacchanalia.
Skip,hip-hop or jive or more sedately
to the Friday Five.
A swift half of cider in the Bodega bar
sadlynone of us could afford a car.
Dropping a shilling in the snug juke
box,Haley and Elvis,then unorthodox.
Bought tickets for the coming live shows,
Cochrane,Cliff and Shadows.
Later, at the dance the last waltz about
to begin,if you were fancied ,it
showed in her coy grin.
Requesting a date took a little courage,
so glad my choice that day,led
to marriage.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Ken Colyer&his 50's band
in dance halls across England
With hop skip&jive
he made 'trad jazz' come alive
TRAD JAZZ
hop skip
jive trip
NOTE:A footle is a two line ,2 syllable verse with an integral title-Light Poetic verse form,witty,pertinent,topical etc (technically a trochaic monometer and not necessarily in rhyme).A 'hybrid' innovative sequenced variation has
developed over the years (since 2009)alongside the original definition
Paths are foundations one have chosen. Our lives are similar to various music, beliefs, cultures, religions, relationships one writes the lyrics, We often rehearse, perform the tunes to choose paths how one sets the volume and adjust which station to tuned to are choices which songs to live by. Our choices the footsteps one trad upon are mere choices one chooses to dance to the sounds of music, One chooses one’s atmosphere, music and relationships, One chooses to walk by faith and not sight.
hair brylcreamed.
into town
to the pub in the square,
our gang always met there
trad jazz with Donegan,
Bilk or Collier
or maybe the ballroom for
bacchanalia
skip,hip-hop or jive
or more sedately
to the Friday Five.
a swift half of cider
in the Bodega bar
sadly none of us then
could afford a car.
dropping a shilling
.. in the snug juke box
Haley and Elvis,then
so unorthodox.
Whilst
Wordsworth
danced
with
daffodils
the
world
of
poetry
moved on
symbols
of
the
inner
man
in poems
soon
began
verse
was
freed
to
explore
imagery
and
the like
then
hand
in hand
together
were
too soon
to reach
Eliot's
waste
land
so
empty
now of
flowers
to
while
away
the
hours
Sing it Loud
Sing it Clear
Melodious Songs
Please the Ear
Sing it Trilly
Sing it Silly
Sing a Lullaby
To baby Billy
Sing it Alone
Sing it Together
Sing with Gusto
Giving Pleasure
Sing it Trad
Sing it Sad
Sing with Passion
Good or Bad
Sing it with Spirit
Sing it with Zest
Join in Chorus
With the Rest
All join Hands
Form a Ring
Dance Around
And Sing Sing Sing
IN A NICK OF TIME
IN LIFE'S HARSH REALITIES
THE FAIR YOUTH BEAUTY FADES
LIKE WITHERED GRASS IT'S GONE
WEAK,BROKEN,DEEP ASLEEP
NEVER TO AWAKE AGAIN.
ALL THAT REMAINS ARE MEMORIES
THAT NO EYE SEES BUT YOU
THAT NO OTHER TONGUE CAN TELL BUT YOURS
THOSE MEMORIES THAT THE MIND CAN HARDLY DEPICT
THE FAIR YOUTH BEAUTY.
IT SHALL FADE
IT'S DESTINED FOR EXTINCTION
ITS NOT IMMORTAL
THOUGH IT CAN BE IMMORAL.
THAN ANOTHER GENERATION SPRINGS UP
TO TRAD THE NARROW PATH WE ALL TOOK.
THAN THE HEART ACHES
THE SOUL YEARNS
AND THE MIND REMINDS
MEMORIES REMAIN.
TRULY NOTHING IS NEW UNDER THE SUN,
THEY WERE ONCE YOUNG
THEIR EYES ONCE WERE SO KEEN
ENERGETIC,IMAGINARY BUT LESS REALISTIC
THAN IN A BLINK OF TIME IT FADED
THEIR YOUTH SHIELDED THEM NO-MORE
AND THEIR FAIR YOUTH BEAUTY DECLINED.
AS SURE AS MAN LIVE
AS LONG AS THE EYES CAN SEE
THE TONGUE CAN TELL
THE FAIREST YOUTH BEAUTY CONTINUES TO FADE
BY MISFORTUNE OR NATURE'S COURSE
THAT'S THE FAIR YOUTH BEAUTY
there's no other way
so that pass trad
try ing get it all free
thinking thats the key
no doudt
theyer for a
HAND OUT
TWIST AGAIN
disc-go
move slow
CHARLESTON
kick feet
off beat
TRAD JAZZ
hop skip
jive trip
SOLO EGO
line dance
per chance
hop,skip
jive trip
Note:Skip jive ,very popular on late fifties England,dance to 'trad' jazz bands
Tea with Gran,her muffins supreme,
Bath and change and hair brylcreamed.
into town to the pub in the square,
our gang always met there.
Checking the football scores
in the Oxford 'green un'.
Trad jazz with Donegan,Bilk or Collier
or maybe the ballroom bacchanalia.
Skip,hip-hop or jive or more sedately
to the Friday Five.
A swift half of cider in the Bodega bar
sadlynone of us could afford a car.
Dropping a shilling in the snug juke
box,Haley and Elvis,then unorthodox.
Bought tickets for the coming live shows,
Cochrane,Cliff and Shadows.
Later, at the dance the last waltz about
to begin,if you were fancied ,it
showed in her coy grin.
Requesting a date took a little courage,
so glad my choice that day,led
to marriage.
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