PVC Dancing
Posted: Sat May 04, 2013 7:34 am
This is from a very strange - and wonderful - dream I had last night.
PVC Dancing
© Stephen Whiteside 04.05.2013
I found a length of PVC – a simple, bendy pipe.
I placed it to my mouth and blew. It made a music ripe.
I sauntered down the street a way, huff-puffing as I went.
No doubt to some I looked a rather odd and wayward gent –
But not to all! Some young folk – mostly girls – picked up my gist.
They tentatively began to sway and clap, to jive and twist.
I blew my pipe more strongly, with a strong and sassy beat,
And watched my crew reciprocate, with slowly rising heat.
In twos and threes they formed a troupe, and danced along the road.
I concentrated deeply in a syncopated mode.
I blew. I thought. I blew some more. My PVC was smoking.
These dancers’ fires would burn as long as I could keep on stoking!
A crowd soon came to watch the show, which brought me to my best.
I’d never have another chance I like this. I played with zest.
I played with vim. I played for now. I thought not of the morrow,
And mustered all the spark that I could beg or steal or borrow,
And still the dance intensity rose higher, ever higher.
Where once had been a cold, grey street was burning, churning fire.
At last I knew the time had come. I let them dance away.
I turned my music slowly down to let the street turn grey…
But it did not. No, not at first, for thunderous applause
Assailed my ears and shook my chest. I revelled in the roars
Of shoppers, clerks, commuters as they thanked me for my show,
Of breaking up the pattern of the dull, relentless flow
Of time that meant so little in this mean suburban street,
For pouring off some cold and switching it with Cajun heat.
I thanked the world for girls with souls, for lengths of PVC,
And most of all I guess I thanked the good old world…for me.
PVC Dancing
© Stephen Whiteside 04.05.2013
I found a length of PVC – a simple, bendy pipe.
I placed it to my mouth and blew. It made a music ripe.
I sauntered down the street a way, huff-puffing as I went.
No doubt to some I looked a rather odd and wayward gent –
But not to all! Some young folk – mostly girls – picked up my gist.
They tentatively began to sway and clap, to jive and twist.
I blew my pipe more strongly, with a strong and sassy beat,
And watched my crew reciprocate, with slowly rising heat.
In twos and threes they formed a troupe, and danced along the road.
I concentrated deeply in a syncopated mode.
I blew. I thought. I blew some more. My PVC was smoking.
These dancers’ fires would burn as long as I could keep on stoking!
A crowd soon came to watch the show, which brought me to my best.
I’d never have another chance I like this. I played with zest.
I played with vim. I played for now. I thought not of the morrow,
And mustered all the spark that I could beg or steal or borrow,
And still the dance intensity rose higher, ever higher.
Where once had been a cold, grey street was burning, churning fire.
At last I knew the time had come. I let them dance away.
I turned my music slowly down to let the street turn grey…
But it did not. No, not at first, for thunderous applause
Assailed my ears and shook my chest. I revelled in the roars
Of shoppers, clerks, commuters as they thanked me for my show,
Of breaking up the pattern of the dull, relentless flow
Of time that meant so little in this mean suburban street,
For pouring off some cold and switching it with Cajun heat.
I thanked the world for girls with souls, for lengths of PVC,
And most of all I guess I thanked the good old world…for me.
PVC pipe makes a good didgeridoo. You can even slide one inside the other and have a sort of trombone didgeridoo, I've seen it done by one of the indigenes.