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I heard the strains of guitar music coming from a nearby bar. The sound attracting lots of folk from both near and far. It was a tabulao putting on a popular flamenco show. Real and authentic it was said by those in the know. I squeezed inside and pushed my way through the excited throng. I reached the bar just as a girl began a plaintiff song. A couple stepped on to the stage, he dressed all in black She in red, a traditional dress, frilled and ruched at the back. They stamped their feet and clapped their hands in true flamenco fashion. Twisting and twirling as the music rose, filled with fire and passion. Their dance told of lives and of so much more Of families torn apart by the tragedy of war. Brother against brother, father against son. The struggle to rule and the Dictator who won. The years of oppression and the misery which came For ordinary people, life was never the same. Then the mood of the music and the dance became lighter Full of life and excitement for a future much brighter A new age had dawned after years of despair The old swept away with scarcely a care. The music and dance which had kept us enthralled Ended with a flourish and then, with a pause Folk were up on their feet, and with clapping and cheering The tablao was over and I set about leaving. The memory stayed with me for many a day And as I look at the old folk, they all seem to say We lived through the hard times, the fear in the night But when life's at its darkness there's always hope and there's light.
I write for two magazines where I live in Spain. I belong to a Writer's Group who meet and share our work and inspire each other as well as help with providing information on Editing and Publishing etc.
A wonderful story! Well done! Presently, in America, it feels like we may be politically moving into the transitional part of the Flamenco that turns light. That is what your poem brought to mind for me. Thank you.