Behind the Balancé: a Modern Prolouge

The smell of cookies fills the air,

And viewers rush to find a chair.

The curtain rises, stage is set

Nothing moves onstage as of yet.

So let me introduce to you

The cast, backstage, before we view

Our wordless, antique Christmas tale.

 

First in our order, without fail

The Party Guest waits to go on.

She smooths her skirt, but wait, she’s gone!

And then we see, she’s back again

Her face has split into a grin.

Movements going on around her

Shall never break that composure.

Her dress is red, her bow is gold,

Her muscles begin to grow cold.

Holds a gift, but rarely present,

Her greetings are ever pleasant.

 

There to welcome her to the scene,

The characters have since been seen.

Full of joy and Christmas spirit

Yet she never wants to hear it

And, when backstage, we hear her cry

“Tired!” “In pain!” “The music- why?”

The characters are numerous

Amount of shoes superfluous

This dancer has many faces

Other charms for other cases.

Her personality abounds

And loves to have others around.

 

When the characters go to bed

Mice and soldiers play in their stead.

Sharp and daring with their keen swords,

Our soldier often feels ignored.

Stands at the back and hangs her head

Emotions are easily read.

As a mouse she is quick and light,

For her focus you’ll have to fight

With ready reason and supply

Of inspiration, just to try.

 

The mice fall dead, the soldiers leave

For Chinese Tea on Christmas Eve.

This dancer flings her arms around

Without control; then there’s the sound

Of her feet slamming on the floor.

She should belong back with the corps,

But her mother gets to decide,

So she will never be denied

Any high and prominent role.

She, the tea, could dance like a troll,

Lack in technique, forget her place,

And all the rest still lose the race.

 

Softly on steps the Sugar Plum

The envy of all those who come

And watch.  The best of all the best

With talent she’s been truly blessed.

And though she may lack in her brains,

With passion she’ll take up the reins.

Presents her gift in every note,

Anxiety won’t let her float.

Greatest fear is that she’ll stumble,

Please dear viewer, do not mumble.

But watch her feet, so light and fast

Onstage she’s ever unsurpassed.

 

It’s hard to see this beauty go,

Except for when it starts to snow.

Though every snowflake is unique,

They stay together, so to speak.

A blizzard ought to move in sync;

He might as well be made of ink.

Tallest, loudest, the only male,

Plus a rather quiet detail.

One-half of every partnership,

He never fails to make a quip

In response to straight arms, straight lines.

With all these things, nothing defines

Him, the snowflake, quite like laughter.

 

It’s my turn to come on after.

Flowers of red and green and blue,

I’m floaty, fun, and graceful, too!

Although my mind is full of facts,

And while my natural talent lacks,

I offset with dedication.

First to cite the combination.

The saving grace of the teacher,

And motivational speaker.

My greatest goal will be hard work;

From a challenge, I will not shirk.

But this effort wilts the flower

Exhausted by the final hour.

 

Altogether, we move as one

Making the Nutcracker quite fun.

Work together, not perfectly,

But graceful? I say certainly.

While different, we all share the same

Passion, to dance, and gain acclaim.

So take your seat, enjoy the show,

As now it’s time for me to go.

 

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741