Poetry Lovers, welcome to Disco IV! To put another perspective on the golden age of disco, we have a great piece from the lovely poet Sharron Green. Titled The Oasis Nightclub, this intricately detailed piece sums up memories of our nights out. Thank you for that, Sharron
The Oasis Nightclub
Down the Oasis on a Saturday night,
the kings of the jungle are spoiling for a fight.
The Blues have lost, the ref was a tool,
they’re finding it hard to keep their cool.
Only way to make the anger fade,
is to end the night by getting laid.
All tanked up on vodka Red Bull
who will be the first to pull?
Joe the bouncer hears them first,
built like a hippo: tux ‘bout to burst.
Round the corner, they sound scary
but they won’t get in if they’re too lary.
He and the missus had a blazing row,
so he stomped off, still angry now.
He’s so wound up he’s seeing double,
not in the mood for any trouble.
The ladies teeter in the queue,
it’s bloody cold ‘n they need the loo,
their legs are bare and their figures slight,
they’re dressed for summer – and look a sight.
To get some warmth they light their fags,
and cuddle their ‘designer’ bags.
They all have high hopes for tonight,
at least a snog if not Mr Right.
At last, inside, they made the cut
a feminine wiggle, a macho strut.
The girls disappear to the Ladies Room,
and paint their faces in the gloom.
Aagainst the bar the blokes all throng,
today’s Happy Hour lasts all night long.
They order beers with whiskey to chase,
and scour the room for a pretty face.
On the dance floor the music’s throbbing,
a mass of bleached blonde heads is bobbing.
It’s Eighties Night and they’re in the groove,
so jam packed, they can hardly move.
‘It’s raining men!’, ‘Come on Eileen!’,
anything by Cher or Queen.
They all enjoy the eighties sound,
though few recall the first time round.
At first the ladies dance in twos,
around their bags or high-heeled shoes,
with flirty glances and a ‘come on’ grin,
they select their prey and reel them in.
Soon the boys are on a mission,
for once they show no inhibition,
they are ‘greased lightning’ on the floor,
until they can stand up no more,
then Joe steps in to find their feet,
and lead them out into the street.
For those still standing at the end,
there is a chance to ‘make a friend’,
the lights are dimmed, to change the mood,
they dance together as if glued.
They’re total strangers don’t forget,
although bathed in each other’s sweat.
Small talk and chemistry say whether
the two of them will leave together.
The lights go up, now comes the test,
to look less wasted than the rest.
Joe sends them out while they’re still reeling,
with that drunken, dizzy, headspin feeling.
Along the wall, new lovers huddle,
Joe’s off home for a kiss ‘n cuddle.
The rest of the crowd splits into two
for the burger van or the taxi queue,
they say good-byes – some short, some long
swop their digits – some real, some wrong.
Then there’s a week to prepare for one highlight
– down the Oasis on a Saturday night.
Sharron Green 2019
Thank you so much, Sharron. Wasn’t that just terrific! So many memories of Saturday nights flooded back.
Thank you for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back shortly with more poetry antics real soon…….