When doors are locked
and darkness cloaks the autumn sky
When we are tucked
in sleepy beds, the fairies fly.

They think we mor-
tals will not wake to see their way
But leafy por-
tals open to reveal the fay.

And if our eyes
can focus past this earthly night
We’ll catch a glimpse
Of starlit dancing in plain sight.

While some may feel
afraid to dally with romance
Some curious few
Spread silken wings and join the dance.

Performance Being Seen

Eight dancing bellies, backs, and sixteen buttocks, bending and brushing, bringing things, changing ranges, shifting gears, shunting and travelling, challenging,
shoving, recovering, dividing and doubling, demanding and declining.

Being seen
by one hundred and ninety two willing eyes placed in four parallel lines on either side of a smooth studio space.

Then, fifty completed feedback forms laid out to be sifted, scrutinised, analysed, and summarised, whilst
the twenty steel toes of nimble fingered technicians, practitioners, choreographers, crew and costumier
chew over, chill, enjoying the moment, swapping spectacles.

Two to Tango!

With grace we’ll be around next year

Sipping Cali Majito

We’ll put on woven hats of straw

And do the Boston Tango.

We made our lives up very well

I’m happy as a mango

Your sparkly eyes are quite a prize

They’re just like Marlon Brando’s.

I never wanted very much

I thought I’d won the lotto

When you came by and took my eye

My heart it was besotto

And our romance is one long dance

Beacause we have this motto:

Leave me alone and I’ll come home

Coz I know what I’ve gotto!

Quiet Stance

Running, Lifting, Holding, Lowering, Returning.

Should we lose the ability to return, chaos ensues,

limbs flail akimbo, and the body, if not checked, may break.


Running, Lifting, Holding, Lowering, Returning.

When two legs are spirited from under us

our landing position should be as relaxed and natural as possible.

We may then, with insight, place one foot in front of the other foot.

Returning to quiet stance may yet be the strength of us.






When I am a dancer,
I spin like a leaf from a bigger tree,
my arms are reaching branches
and my fingers touch all of the world.
When I am a dancer,
as I arc and rise and stretch and curl,
my mind unravels in ancient places
and my dancing soul is free.

Finger Exercise

Ten fingers strive to exercise a mundane task,
enslaved by hands, their jealous masters, clasping fast
till aching knuckles buckle to the bracelet of the day.

You’d guess they’d ask (above the crack of whip) how so
that they who long to dance, are pinioned tight and must
suspend their joy for subsistence, impinged by stress.

But never did these fingers speak; suffice to know
how noble words and careful deeds and soulful breath
held checked, cut in to scintillate with dazzling display.

Jacob’s Angel

In the Mersey is an angel who is twisting to her beat.
Blown far off heaven’s dance floor, all his holy plans awry,
the angel arches, smiles and twisting, feels the sun beneath his feet.
Her jilted history knocked and settling into awful grim defeat,
the river lashes hard on northern shores to stick and stay.
In the Mersey is an angel who is twisting to her beat.
The Mersey’s bitter kiss holds men to anchor in the deep,
she calls them home but falsely with her widow’s waves of grey.
The angel arches, smiles and twisting, feels the sun beneath his feet.
So many ardent loves have lost their head to her entreat,
and lately found, they stiffly swim their honey’s moon away.
In the Mersey is an angel who is twisting to her beat.
As the angel dips his blessed arms, to caress her winter sweet,
she rains her blows and wraps her sturdy thighs about his waist;
the angel arches, smiles and twisting, feels the sun beneath his feet.
And still cursing broken promises, she leans into his weight
as Liver birds look discreetly on, to flit another day.
In the Mersey is an angel who is twisting to her beat;
the angel arches, smiles and twisting, feels the sun beneath his feet.

Waltz – 3/4 time

I’ve found a

rhythm which

helps me with


also en

hances the

vast world I

know and see:


I hold the

hands of my

friends and my


lifted by

music and

kind loving



We travel

one two three

through life’s di


dancing with

gusto through

fear and ad



Some of you

might like to

dance in my

footsteps the

waltz is such

fun and it’s




Make merry dance with me

step- ball- changing

until we lose our breath


light shimmying across morning eyes

put your feet to the floor for a pas de deux

all jazz hands and exuberance


Get on down to breakfast

rockin’ on bran flakes

turning around a cup of tea

toast post one two three

raisins to be cheerful you and me

contra bodies a crochety tango


Work those dancing miles with a steady beat

past back aching roundabouts

endless do-sa-do Pontiac Peugot surge n slow

waiting permitting pivot power and pass


Go with the flow

friendships comfortable as a hand on the waist

spinning through days and years

a conga of trauma and dilemma

altercation followed by locked step impasse

relative calm – a smooth foxtrot that never lasts


Let memory’s moonwalk gather us up

chassé back through good times

hilarious moments cha cha cha

others we danced with some we didn’t

waltzing towards the end

a final pelvic thrust

and no time to curtsy.