Even the devil has to sleep some time,
dozing by the inferno, daring a red-lipped smile.
Let's dance, though the downstairs neighbors bang the broomstick.
Let's wear sequins and furs, hats as big as platters,
and take the train with our big brown bags.
Put an air on, try an accent, we're beautiful don't you see?
We will land like birds on a fountain in a square
to sing ourselves as Whitman would, while the devil sleeps.
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for Sunday Muse #143, where I am hosting. Join us!
This is so much fun. I love it. <3
ReplyDeleteThanks, girl!
DeleteI have always imagined myself a '40s glamour gal ... your poem describes her to a "T" ....
ReplyDeleteYou'd have been ideal for the role, Helen!
DeleteIt is rare that I can describe a poem as fabulous, but today I can! Wonderful, fabulous, wild fun and I LOVE it!!!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carrie. I might not be writing at all these days if not for Muse.
DeleteCatching the devil asleep! What wonderful, delicious, wildness ensues. It's devil-may-care time! YAY
ReplyDeleteIt is indeed. It's Party O'clock!
DeleteGorgeous--sneak out and dance!
ReplyDeleteAnd don't forget the pets, they like to dance, too!
DeleteThat red-lipped smile! Singing ourselves as Whitman would. Just wonderful. Always a treat to read you, my friend.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sherry. I hope your move is going smoothly.
DeleteGotta keep that devil down in the hole, Shay — cause when he wakes up, he is gonna be well rested. https://youtu.be/2UbqFJuptvE
ReplyDeleteLove that whole "Frank's Wild Years" album. "Cold Cold Ground" and the rhumba number are my favorites but the whole thing is great.
DeleteLike birds on a fountain!!! This is a heart-tugger. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Zander. I enjoyed yours as well!
DeleteAppear carefree! For appearances are everything. Excellent!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Charley. Appreciate ya.
DeleteI started to copy and paste some of my favorite lines, but then realized Iwould be pasting most of this poem into my comment.
ReplyDeleteWowzer (as usual).
Thanks, Sioux, my faithful reader!
DeleteA whirl and a dance of a poem, Shay. It celebratrs both that moment in time when "the devil slept" and women began to free themselves from the cultural constraints of a centuries-old patriarchal stranglehold, and the personsl joy we can find in our own autonomy. I love the flourish of birds at the end.
ReplyDelete"celebrates" that is. Sigh.
DeleteYes indeed, women cut their long hair and started carrying hip flasks. It was a new day, and shocking to granny!
DeleteI love all of that. What we might dare while the Devil sleeps, our own negativity holding way, way too much of us hostage.
ReplyDeleteEscape, I say!
DeleteOh I love this. Party while the devil sleeps. I would like to dance the broomstick across a few ceilings. :)
ReplyDeleteGo for it, Susie!
DeleteNice combination of '40's film noir style and 'Leaves Of Grass'
ReplyDeleteThank you, but I'm thinking more screwball comedy than noir.
Deletewhile the devil sleep, mischievousness on the run...fun take...
ReplyDeleteThis is so much fun! Wait, I will get m broomstick!
ReplyDelete