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Memoirs of a Ballerina


             
The tempoed, palpitations of my tender, young girl’s heart.
As the velvet, thick stage curtains swished opened and did part.

The pin-drop stillness as we took our graceful, poised posititions.
Dance, of course, our first love and our life’s grand ambition.

Bejewlled heads, so gracefully bowed to the shining, wooden floor,
Fuschia ballet shoes, pointed with grace at our families and  the auditorium’s  wecoming door.

Debussy’s haunting music began, “ The Afternoon of a Fawn”~ 
We rose with grace and whirled with applause, warm as August’s loving sun. 

                              1/10/2024

beautychildhoodimagerymemoryrhyme

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Hilda Greenhough

January 13, 2024 at 10:19 AM

This poem, a beautiful tribute to ballet, takes me to a world which my feet forbid. The motion, energy, and poise makes me feel that I have a front row seat.

Panagiota Romios

January 13, 2024 at 1:10 PM

I danced and later taught dancing.they, in turnm taught me their kind od dance, it was the tine of my life.i feel like you! Whem I watch figure skating…to mem it looks like nagic, i did gfigre skate,but nit as wll as a dabcer, good to know limitations, ans yet appreciate skill in others. Mrci, Panagiota

Paula Goldsmith

January 11, 2024 at 10:44 AM

A lovely write with a pretty picture. I danced when I was young/it was so much fun. Changed to skating/also loved it. Have Blessed day writing away..........

Panagiota Romios

January 11, 2024 at 11:31 AM

Hello Paula! We have a lot in common.Ice-skating, dancing, and now poetry. I am sure there is more than that we have in common.)) Last time I skated,,,I was 50 years old! It was so much fun. Life is beautiful isn’t it?. Thank you for reading me. I have always danced, once I broke my thigh,that was the end of dancing. Terribly sad.! Pangie

Linda Alice Fowler

January 10, 2024 at 7:34 PM

Sheer awesomeness dear Pangie. I studied from age 4. My mother grew up teaching dance. I was so proud when I received my first pair of pointe shoes. Mine were turquoise. So beautiful and so prized. I can see you in your fuchsia pointes. Wish I were still that fit. LOL Beautiful poem my dear friend. :)

Panagiota Romios

January 10, 2024 at 7:59 PM

How wonderful that your mother taught dance.!! don’t you wish we could both do some ballet or dancing right now. I know I do and I can’t dance anymore.. that’s a curse a ballerina. My Dad saved my toe shoes and ballet shoes. Not all of them., no. He even had the taps removed from my shoes and kept them in an envelope. I loved dancing with castanets.. The shoes for Spanish dance were red with a little bit of a heel and satin and tied with bows. Plus I had a three tier long Spanish dress I don’t know the name for it. Sorry.. I don’t remember the color of my first shoes ar all. Ballet dancers meet at a poetry site.. there is a poem for you. Set your mind dancing. Did you do other than ballet? PS. Will finish my email to you tomorrow.. “Toes” Romios. It rhymes.)))

Daniel Henry Rodgers

January 10, 2024 at 4:12 PM

Panagiota, your poem beautifully unveils the delicate world of a dancer. The vivid imagery of palpitations, poised positions, and the enchanting dance floor paints a captivating picture. Debussy's "The Afternoon of a Fawn" adds a hauntingly beautiful layer to your narrative. Your words dance with elegance, much like the ballerina you describe. Bravo! - Blessings, Daniel

Panagiota Romios

January 10, 2024 at 4:37 PM

Yes, indeed, David. Debussys work was perfect, i love his music . Indeed, movements and grace, I love with a passion. Your comment paints a picture, in and of itself. I mght be changing the titile..so do not be surprised.please. I had no idea there is a poem based on this by a French author. I may post on that tomorrow.))Merci beacoup. Pangie

Regina Elliott

January 10, 2024 at 3:06 PM

So enthralling, Pangie, bravissimo! It sounds like it was a beautiful ballet production. In Massapequa, Andre Eglevsky's ballet studio was right down the street from our rental home. I felt privileged walking by with the studio doors open that summer hearing the classical music and instruction to the young ballet dancers. Lovely memory poem, good friend. Hugs xxo

Panagiota Romios

January 10, 2024 at 4:24 PM

Thank you Regina! This was no big deal compared to the theater in Massapequa. You are fortunate to have lived so close to a studio! It was much work to get a dance perfect, but a glorious day to dance before colored lights and an audience.That image expresses more than I could ever put into words! I did try though! My cousin who wrote here and passed away, told me my performance to the Blue Dabube was breathtaking. What lovely words to recall! I danced well into my late years. I come from a dancing family.))Your friend, Pangie..Thank you.

Memoirs of a Ballerina

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