(I swear, promise, really really am going to try my best to start updating this sucker regularly again. Anyway, with that in mind I have TWO new poems, yay?, written with the same base start of simple word association. The first one, as you can see, is seasonal, and the second... I keep trying, somewhat desperately, to put some of the emotions of dance into words. I don't know why, I guess I just want to be able to share some of it with people who aren't dancers, but really, it's just not possible. This does not seem to stop me from trying, so the second one is my attempt to give you a little glance into the world of dance, and the relations that happen between fellow dancers. Thanks for reading m'dears)
I don't know how to roast chestnuts
The ballerina dog ornament wears a tutu
Her tiara sparkles, shimmers in the tree lights
You raise your champagne flute and toast to the
holiday season filled with laughter, playing
freezing cold in the snow,
snuggling up warm by the fire.
I don’t know how to roast chestnuts,
grilled cheese sandwiches anyone?
Backstage Nerves
Backstage feeling jittery, little tremors
the black curtains looming ominous.
You come up the staircase to tread in the rosin,
play with the props to distract the nerves.
Come over to stand with me by the warm lights,
I adjust your costume… nervous habit.
You double-check my hooks and eyes,
we are a good team. I rub your shoulders a bit before
I start stretching myself [again!]
You hold my hands as I circle my ankles,
and whisper a little inside joke.
I have to suppress a giggle, and
the sour taste of nerves dissipates.
I hear the five-note cue from the symphony
and give you a wink and a smile before I go onstage –
to flirt with the audience.
To dance.
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