Best Ballerina Poems
Like delicate white swans were they,
the white swans of a grand ballet -
ballerinas waiting in a row
underneath the candlelight’s soft glow.
But what are ballerinas with no parts
to make them dance? The poet gives them hearts!
Inking pirouettes and sautés onto white,
she gave them words to spin them into night.
Arabesques that her pen on each one pressed
made a woeful tale beautifully expressed.
The dance was finishing by early dawn
with one last white swan to be written on.
The poetess, now drained, could do no more.
Her eyelids closed; the swans fell to the floor.
Fluttering, they fell, all in disarray.
Pure white no more, ink-stained they would stay.
Tears the poet cried are now living in each swan.
Might they be displayed even when she passes on?
The poetess who let her feelings spill
created swans now black, yet lovely still.
Written May 25, 2017 for a Contest inspired by Dear Heart
The Ballerina
The curtain parted...there upon the stage,
'neath bright chatoyant spotlight's glaring glow
she stood, a cynosure in tunneled beam;
demure, yet with ineffable glamor.
With lovely bow, this ingenue young girl,
composed, yet like a whirling breeze, began
her lissome ballet dance of twirls and swirls
to mellifluous sounds of violins.
A panacea of sweet calm filled up
my soul as she so gracefully succumbed
to call of violins and merged with them
in artful dance I wished sempiternal.
The beauty of her gracefulness in dance
enveloped me in deep, hypnotic trance.
Sandra M. Haight
Unrhymed Sonnet
her silken skirt flows
displaying her slender leg
and beautiful toe
as she sways rhythmically
to the notes of breeze
A ballerina
blissfully bended
in blue
reaches out
into the
overbearing
embrace of
empty space .
Hopelessly
hankering for
the fondness
of a familiar face
to set all her
life’s pieces
back into
place .
Around their solar father, planets circle in space
Each traveling the celestial realm at its own pace
But there is one he seems to dote on most of all
She's a lovely ballerina, dancing at the Galaxy Ball
A tulle skirt she wears in the guise of glittering rings
Moving in the black velvet sky as if she has wings
An endless performance choreographed by the stars
to music played by its moons, heard far away as Mars
Saturn shines like a beacon in the vast Milky Way
like a beautiful prima ballerina twirling in a ballet
Regal is the celestial sphere in her graceful pirouette
Bowing after a presentation no one could ever forget
His Majesty, is delighted and with a warm applause
He nods to his favorite child... in her he sees no flaws
He would place a crown upon her, made of ice and rock
and gift her marvelous gowns to adorn her as a frock
He cannot get near enough to embrace her in his arms
Enamored by Saturn, Ra is quite smitten by her charms
With human eyes, she appears buttery yellow and pale
Perhaps her constant dancing leaves her tired and frail
I would honor her with a poem, an ode in which each line
tells of her grandeur or write a song that would be divine
Far away, she may be but still mesmerizing to my eyes
Saturn, a distant amber gem, dancing amid starry skies
Third day on her honeymoon
Sharon asks Butch what it's like
for a man before he gets married.
A bricklayer by trade,
and a man of few words,
Butch doesn’t know what to say
but he knows Sharon has always
liked to go bowling; in fact,
that’s how this odd couple met.
So he tries an analogy although
he doesn’t know it’s an analogy.
From age 12 on, Butch tells her, he
always felt like he had a bowling ball
in his pants; that was a problem.
He couldn’t find pants to fit.
When he became a man he joined
bowling leagues, three or four, and
went bowling as often as he could.
Then Butch tells Sharon he met her
and knew he had to quit bowling
having found a lane of his own.
Donal Mahoney
Princess ballerina
Comfortably numb
Hidden from the world
Holding angels ransom
Princess ballerina
With ivory inked thighs
Legs swallowing purity
Prying pink eyes
Princess ballerina
With sin studded threats
Slicing delicacy
With pierced pirouettes
Princess ballerina
Leering from afar
Come out of the corner
My jaded sultry star
brittle stained jagged fingernails
scratch against the splint hairs
of a cold weathered wooden elbow
an impatient clock had sapped
a once supple leather coat
now requiring constant mending
as homeless unraveling posed an inevitable ending
torn pockets spilled over
with a plethora of dead letters
hope had long ago delivered
its final walking papers
without care of return receipt
handmade trees with news of unease
spun unmercifully
into the arms of a brisk fall breeze
birds began their escape
into the mouth of another sun
a slow rise from a patinaed throne
on a benched park seat
a myopic vision of how cracks
are formed on overused and forgotten streets
she walks alone
to nowhere
a decayed ballerina
the place she is seen as most complete
A born lioness my untamed heart? ha!
The Little Ballerina
At the same old corner, at the same old crossing,
was a large white mansion with a girl’s spirit roaming.
Wearing heavy damp shoes and dewed bits of cloth,
a man enters, making little of the little ballerina’s wrath.
Wiping off the caked mud on his shoe,
as he climbed up the stairs of Italian marble,
with his top tilted to see the dresser move,
a hand gripped his hip, thrashing him down.
A horrible face that occurred before him,
smiled showing its sharpened pearls.
With fright flowing down his spine,
the waft of blood made him hurl.
Wiggling away from the heavy grope,
Smuggling down his own breath,
he ran out of the palace,
and pledged to never look at it forth.
Elizabeth Marie Tall Chief
bigotry gave her grief
failing health, unsteady,
she railed, “Get my swan costume ready!”
captures her beauty in short strokes,
pen and ink frolic.
the exposure of vigor to the shoulders,
lace pirouetting, around her
budding flowers and hips.
§
her poised dalliance, relaxed.
her back to the admirer.
the weightlessness
characterized in charcoal skirt,
twining with a bare-orchid backdrop.
§
her frontal drop-dead gorgeousness
shrouded, but
for the tease of a slender hand
and ribbon dangling
down her nape.
§
the silver fox ballerina
aroused
by the artist brush
10/30/2019
STAGE BENEATH HER FEET*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
before the lights ignite,
she stands, a silhouette of dreams,
silk slippers whispering against the wood.
the stage, her steadfast confidant,
is the only applause she ever needs.
how the world adores the spectacle,
the pirouettes that seem to float,
the leaps that defy gravity!
beyond spotlight is the quiet joy of motion,
the grace of being, the art of losing oneself.
each twirl, a conversation with the air,
each leap, a promise to the crowd.
dancing is a wrapped gift opened
in the silence between the notes.
she dances not for their gaze,
but for the stage that cradles her spirit.
she dances for the magic of movement
as if she were born to sway
in the arms of the music,
the notes swirling like autumn leaves.
*This poem written in remembrance of my aunt, Ann Etgen-Atkinson, a prima ballerina, who recently passed. She dedicated her life to ballet, first as a performer then later as a ballet teacher, choreographer, and original owner of the Dallas Metropolitcan Ballet.
My Little Ballerina
Jacklyn
I love you more than you can possibly know.
Gpa
Somehow I missed the moment
I didn't get to see her twirl.
My little ballerina
my little dancing girl.
Loving her forever
even long before she's born.
I loved every step she took
and every dancing shoe she's worn.
Born against the odds they said
she's born of holy water.
My little dancing angel
my only daughters daughter.
With time and distance in between
no way for me to travel.
All the dreams of her and I
I slowly watched unravel.
Still miles can't stop a grandpas love
it speeds across the ocean.
The breeze that's sometimes in your hair
is a grandpas love in motion.
Not seeking fame or fortune
nor love and not romance.
It's on it's way to watch her sway
and see grand daughters dance.
If only in my mind I see
like I've watched from the start.
Every move my little angel makes
I see it with my heart.
Edwin C Hofert
Sunlight dances on
Water like ballerina
Gracefully on stage