The Dance. A song inspired by Marc Chagall.

All Saints’ Church, Tudeley in Kent. It is the only church in the world to have all its twelve windows decorated by the Russian artist Marc Chagall. The main East Window was commissioned by Sir Henry & Lady D’Avigdor Goldsmid in memory of their daughter Sarah, who, in 1963, aged 21, tragically died in a sailing accident. Inspired by Marc Chagall, I wrote a poem which became a song. The poem is below this track.

Musicians. Dorian Ford Piano. Annie Whitehead Trombone. Winston Clifford Drums. Neville Malcolm Double Bass. Carol Grimes Vocals.

https://soundcloud.com/user1698211/the-dance-1

The Dance. My Poem. Above is the painting that inspired the words and the song xxxx

 If I could choose, I would live beneath a round yellow sun, where a red fiddler stands, with a ring in his nose-

a blue violin tucked under his chin. Let the music begin. A golden green girl I could be  – long indigo hair wearing seashells for a necklace. I have flowers for the fiddler- afloat on the winds of the dance.

A tipsy Gypsy, twisting and turning – let the joyful dance begin.

A painter arrives on a sunbeam, a violet cockerel in his arms – giddy bird whirling and twirling whilst dancers dance and lovers entwine. Now – there is no time, only golden time – never again to return to the greys of familiar days.

Let me drown here, be seduced here, stay forever in mystery – eternally dancing the dance. 

I would see a bird with a crown looking down from a nest in a silvery tree. Where Humans transform into fantastic creatures who will sing the best songs, where food is as light as moon dust, plucked from the air. Glasses filled with wine as divine as raindrops infused with the dew of the morning – before sweet, sleep holds us all in her arms.

I edited the words into a song. Below. Click on the track above.

The Dance Grimes\ Ford

I imagine that we –
had never agreed to go our separate ways.
I’m not drowning in the water – my body’s not porous – as only the lonely can be.

I’m flying in heavenly moments, not counting the time or the cost.
Don’t wait for me; you will not see
The one you assume was lost.

Dizzy wants to dance. Strike up the Band Under a round yellow sun.
Twisting and turning, she’s yearning for love – to the beat of her personal drum.

She gave her heart to a red fiddler,
A blue violin tucked under his chin, a ring in his nose, a dance in his toes, they dance till the notes run dry

Bridge

Long is the night, she spins deliriously
Blue notes on the wind
Let’s dance all three: The Cockerel, the fiddler, the artist & Dizzy Dance till the notes run dry…

Dizzy, you see, wanted to be a Gipsy tipsy with the dance. Whirling and twirling with a Cockerel as purple
As Damsons in autumn, all ripe with the sun
The artist slips sunbeams into smiles as he shows her.
A bouquet of flowers, red, yellow and blue –
for this woman as green as the leaves in the morning, after a shower of rain

Long is the night, she spins deliriously
Blue notes on the wind
Let’s dance all three: The Cockerel, the fiddler, the artist & Dizzy – Dance till the notes run dry…

Below – the beautiful windows in the Church.