Hair straightened,
A slick back bun,
Each follicle - has a part to play,
Silence -
Not one hair out of place,
If they were she would be called a disgrace
Makeup done -
To perfection,
Before she performs,
She will face inspection,
The other girls with skin so fair,
Don’t have to deal with treatment so unfair,
But the girl with dark skin -
Knew she would never win,
For they were very critical of her blackness
Her body,
Tightly squeezed into -
A leotard two sizes, too small,
And a tutu, that swallows her whole,
They gave it to her,
Because they said that her thighs jiggle,
And that for her age it was unnatural,
She was a black girl,
And all the other girls were skin and bones,
It’s not her fault she looks ‘grown’
She couldn’t complain otherwise they would label her non compliant
This all happened before her performance,
And, yet she outperformed all the white girls,
And just like her skin - her medal reflected gold
Wasn't that a day -
Peter and the Wolf
in the Bolshoi Ballet.
Yet, in that regard,
Peter - and a wolf
in a leotard?
Jill had so wished to join a ballet class
Her mom said that she could, when she was asked
Mom bought Jill ballet shoes and leotard
And Jill joined the class looking real smart.
Jill’s heart soared as she danced across the floor
Never had felt so elated before
She learnt to pirouette on tippy toes
Twirling and whirling, swift as the wind blows.
Mom was most delighted with Jill’s success
She knew that ballet for her was the best
Jill had been a timid shy girl before
Now she'd found confidence on the dance floor.
Dad was excited for his daughter too
He loved watching all the moves she could do
Jill dancing to music moved him to tears
He knew his daughter would dance through the years.
Le Cirque Bleu
The spotlight is aglow through the gloam
The light an indigo ink modifying color
She swings her body with agility thrusting backwards
upside down, with unseen wings,
an acrobat aerials amid the roar
She looks pretty with her fan in one hand,
long tresses flowing loosely
A circus horse made of jade below
makes eye contact and an interconnection
Without movement they are in an eternal trance,
In the deep dark yonder the golden helio appears
Fiddle and banjo play for the opening adagios act La Nouba
Her leotard tightly invokes, red with flower imprints
Statuesque, still in time showing off her physique
and impressing spectators from below the fliers' pedestal
From above the nets, with ease, she imagines a
world where gravity defies, and animals and objects fly
Flights of fancy within the flying trapeze
flights of fancy an indigo trapeze ~ from above jade nets, an ease
Not yet as graceful as the swan she shall be
but charming and delightful is Eloise to me.
Trying her best to stay en pointe on tiny toes,
focusing on pirouettes, she wiggles her nose.
Still a bit shy when she knows others are looking.
A few years more until The Royal Ballet's booking.
This petite ballerina twirls in circles all around
in her leotard and tutu or in her pink nightgown.
My little ballerina, She dances and spins with hands over her head,
With no leotard, no tutu, no hair ribbon, and no ballet slippers,
Beyond her shoulders, she peers, a beautiful lake under the mountains,
She dances with joy on the shores, with wind unfurling her hair,
No swans, no prince, no villains, no curses, just pure sweet innocence,
Looking back, she glances, she poses, in the mirror with her beautiful smile, a magical moment for me.
Would you like to dance my little ballerina?
She dances and dances,
no leotard, no tutu, no hair ribbon, and no ballet slippers.
she spins with hands over her head, and I dream of.
Our nearby beautiful lake near the mountains,
She dances with joy on the shores, with wind unfurling her hair,
No swans, no prince, no villains, no curses, just pure sweet innocence,
the ducks and geese become spellbound to show their synchronized dances.
She dances and dances to open a beautiful world for us all,
Ballerina Angelina pops up in her pink wardrobe and shoes,
Angelina dances with my little ballerina scattering their smile all around,
She swirls, she twirls, she spins, my dream spins with her.
Are you tired, my little ballerina?
She opens her eyes, keeps dancing with hands over her head,
This is a magical moment for me,
when I pick her up and give her a hug?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
My little ballerina. my two-year-old granddaughter.
Ballerina Angelina. fictional mouse Ballerina (TV character)
Swans are rare in this part of the world.
He’d made his preparations
There in his backyard;
Practised for many hours
Dressed in socks and leotard.
They’d all said it was impossible,
It just couldn’t be done;
When he left they laughed
And thought they’d all won.
But then he went and did it.
Then did it again for spite;
Then did it another three times
All on that very same night.
Nobody else has managed it
Though they’re all trying now
And he just stands and laughs
And won’t show them how.
They’d said it was impossible
And left his ego sinking
But then he put his mind to work
And did some lateral thinking.
He’s still the only one successful
As of now and right up to date
And he’s a little bit embarrassed that
The whole world wants to be his mate.
A lizard in a leotard,
a leopard in a froufrou,
strolled off together, arm in arm,
in search of Desmond Tutu.
They stopped to drop some laundry off
while walking through Ukraine;
got waylaid when they picked it up,
were never seen again.
Inner child’s state of rebellion
Forced to endure ballet class
At heart I am complete hellion
Pirouette ended flat on my ass.
Reluctantly wear pink leotard
Scrapped back hair into bun
Out of my depth this is hard
Seems like mother has won.
Competitions are nightmare
Leotard swapped for white tutu
Three judges blank eyes stare
Feet frozen to floor like glue.
Real desire my secret dream
Hold it close to soft young self
Like to be in warm smelly stable
Happily grooming best friend Elf.
Your Inner Child
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Chantelle Anne Cooke
01-09-2021
Superman was feeling mighty uptight
So he went out for a long midnight flight
Spotted two teens making love
Shut his eyes tight as a glove
But his blue leotard turned hard, alright
“Is Fashion Modern?” MOMA* asks
And so, in its new show,
The items on display are there
To let us know it’s so.
A pair of Levi’s, baseball caps,
Bikinis and berets,
A Wonderbra, dashikis, kilts
And suits from prior days.
A Rolex watch, Adidas, Nikes,
Mao jackets, too,
A leotard by Danskin,
Polo shirts (but not J. Crew).
Lipstick, flip flops, saris, Speedos,
Ties, stilettos, Spanx,
Jumpsuits, hoodies, Snuglis
(For which new moms owed their thanks).
My friend and I did reminisce,
While strolling the exhibit,
About the clothes like those we wore
When age did not inhibit.
*Museum of Modern Art (NYC)
U F O is a W d o p u y t r e s a d f g h k l k m n b v c xz q?
Feeling ill cam be understood to be akin to laying down upside down on a constantly rotating piece of grass that moves so rapidly that ground cannot really fathom a place to stand still. But stillness is not stagnation nor is it syllables stalling for stillness is often likened to a giant hexagonal bee swarm rotating royally signalling to jester fish that the top of a yogurt reads the same as the top line of a paragraph but minus the full stop. Equations equipped equatorial effluent efflorescent elephant. And a stripey square ball rolled away in a hexagonal formation before jumping into the swimming pool. Bowl then. But only wearing a bowler hat. Great. Now that is done the items can be imagined to be interested in inkwells'. Fantastical news for ten z frames, a beeswax curdle, a shrinkable curry, a curriculum carriage, and a force ten thousand gale singing a pleasant hymn. Loudly. While practising gymnastics with a fork lift truck and a lorry in a leotard. Z organizationally Z at forty one knots knitting ro eighteen balls of wool lugging loaded leaf loaves. X
Trumpeting cauliflowers never blow eggs backwards onto a postal stamp. So never kick a cabbage to a kerb. Oh watch now. All drive safely. Harmonics in a queue are indestructible and indescribable too. Oh counting. Fun fun fun but not for an atom. They prefer to whizz around a jug. Or a used dish. Or a mop bucket. Take no acetic crow to a crown party. For feathers fly as the dresses are announced and who wishes to swim in thick tar or oil anyway. No a pointing stick says. That is quite right. And rights are righteous and righteousness is a right-angled visionary visualising rhombic robot. Dare to argue with GHQ? Or something that is said that is not paths? Tread light. Upon the grounds of carpets. Carpets carry carnivorous carnage. And a douchebag in a suit is neither a swimming whale nor a wallaby. Ok then. Good. Fantastic news for all who attend the operatic antics of the wardrobe sheaths.hahaha pickled melon meeting pickled lime. Hahaha leotard lion leapt. Hahaha swordfish sampling sailing seas. Xxxx Constantinople z. That was the p y q reporting in the afternoon from the aerial perspective of the debate about that apple pie. Z
I know the five positions
(In ballet – don’t get all hot!)
Plus plie and pirouette
But all the rest I plum forgot.
I didn’t have a tutu
But a leotard? Perhaps.
My memory is dimming
And I’m left with just the scraps.
Most likely, I attended
Very briefly, very young,
So a few balletic moves
The only knowledge that has clung.
Was there really a Miss Ricky?
Guess there’s no way I could know
For my ballerina days were over
Many years ago.
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