Tag: dancing

Anne Finds Her Career (originally posted February 2016 )

Dreams, Poetry, re-blogged posts, Sometimes re-runs, This and That

— I first published this poem here on SOMETIMES in February of 2016.    The plan is to re-post some of my favorites among my 400+ posts since the blog began back in 2011.—

Anne finds her career …

When Anne was a girl, she always wanted to be
a dancer.  To wear flowing gowns and satiny slippers
and be guided as a sylph, lifting in twirls and leaping high,
up in the air with skirts twirling and shoes barely touching the floor,
and feeling the thrill of the collective sigh from the audience.
But as fate would have it, her two left feet, and her lack of graceful
moves — more like those of a duck than a lovely swan, or
even a goose–combined with her brother’s snickers
she stepped on her skirt instead of her shoes
and tripped over her partner’s feet.

So then, when she saw that a new goal was needed
Anne decided that she wanted to be, when she grew older,
a doctor.  To have a white coat, a stethoscope  and thermometer
and peer into ears and down throats of her patients…to quickly discover
what ailed them…and find a cure, and all of the people would just be
astounded when Little Anne became a Doctor!
A wonderful plan!
It would be  a good position, pay plenty of money, and mean
great prestige…and besides, the town needed a Doctor.
It might have been the perfect profession, except…
she fainted dead away at the first drop of blood.

Not to be derailed on her track to gainful employment
Anne thought long and hard to find just the right profession
that would serve both her ambitions and her need for recognition.
“One thing that I can do well,” said Anne, “without  tripping over any feet
while dancing…or to lose my wits and panic when anyone bleeds…

The perfect job for me (why didn’t I think of it sooner?) is to get
pen and paper, and a computer — and spend my life Writing!”
So she wrote and she wrote, books and poems, and tales
about dancers and doctors, and all kinds of things.

©Sometimes,2016

never say never

Dreams, Poetry, This and That

One of my favorite places where  I’ve never been
on the deck of a sailing ship, out on the ocean.
The boards are thick and smell of pine,
as a ballroom floor with satiny  shine…
o’er looking green hills that slope to the sea.
Where sweet maidens whirl in fine silk dresses
in powdered faces and warm shining  eyes,
dancing in time with the orchestra’s strains.

Back on my ship with the music still dancing
and humming gay tunes that remember …
my heart yearns for places that might have been;
for the deck boards of pine that echo sweet tunes
wafting o’er the salt-tinged breezes of  memories…
or dreams…of nights that might have existed
in one of my favorite places where I’ve never been.

© Sometimes, 2016

Wordle #116 a flight of fancy

Challenges, Poetry, This and That

 

For Mindmisery’s Menagerie, prompt for yesterday.  The Wordles are fun, given a list of words and spin them into a poem or yarn in any order.      The words: starch, trample, Protean, walnut, strop, staccato, waltz, churn, wallflower, dummy, probiscus, Fireworks.(use any ten in any order.)

A Flight of Fancy for the Fourth

In spite of his prominent probiscus,
Sam had reputation as a protean dancer—
His staccato taps as he tripped a Flamenco
was just as charming as his whirl in a Waltz.
No dummy, Sam danced with the wallflowers…
melting the starch in reticent maidens
and moved with the music-style beat, in time.
Trampled the competition, like a SNAP! of a strop…
set off fireworks with his fancy footwork.

© Sometimes, 2016

Anne finds her career …

Poetry, Sometimes, This and That, Writing and Blogging

When Anne was a girl, she always wanted to be
a dancer.  To wear flowing gowns and satiny slippers
and be guided as a sylph, lifting in twirls and leaping high,
up in the air with skirts twirling and shoes barely touching the floor,
and feeling the thrill of the collective sigh……………..from the audience.
But as fate would have it, her two left feet, and her lack of graceful
moves — more like those of a duck than a lovely swan, or
even a goose–combined with her brother’s snickers
she stepped on her skirt instead of her shoes
and tripped over her partner’s feet.

So then, when she saw that a new goal was needed
Anne decided that she wanted to be, when she grew older,
a doctor.  To have a white coat, a stethoscope  and thermometer
and peer into ears and down throats of her patients…to quickly discover
what ailed them…and find a cure, and all of the people would just be
astounded when Little Anne became a Doctor!   A wonderful plan!
It would be  a good position, pay plenty of money, and mean
great prestige…and besides, the town needed a Doctor.
It might have been the perfect profession, except…
she fainted dead away at the first drop of blood.

Not to be derailed on her track to gainful employment
Anne thought long and hard to find just the right profession
that would serve both her ambitions and her need for recognition.
“One thing that I can do well,”said Anne, “without  tripping over any feet
while dancing…or to lose my wits and panic when anyone bleeds…
The perfect job for me (why didn’t I think of it sooner?) is to get
pen and paper, and a computer — and spend my life Writing!”
So she wrote and she wrote, books and poems, and tales
about dancers and doctors, and all kinds of things.

©Sometimes,2016

 

 

New Years Eve

Sometimes, This and That, travel, Writing and Blogging

Sauerkraut balls, bubbly champagne, and midnight kisses notwithstanding, the long-awaited New Year’s Eve Date was highly over-rated.

From about the age of fourteen the push was on, as magazines, movies, television, newspapers…all extolled the glamour and excitement of the parties and celebrations of New Year’s Eve.

There were two major criteria for a stereotypical New Year’s Eve to be officially successful: the Magic Age of Twenty One–and A DATE.

Alas…for various obvious reasons, my ideal perfect date, involving a handsome escort–required to be old enough to gain admittance to a gala ballroom in a romantic city, and be of sufficient financial resources to pay for the evening revelry–was always just beyond my reach.    (OK, way beyond…but this is my tale and I’m sticking to it.)

My actual first legal-age New Years Eve was in 1955…a week after my arrival in Germany to join my army husband.   We had not yet moved into the official US Army living quarters, which were still under actual construction, and were living in a small German-owned apartment.     New Year’s Day 1956 marked the first day of the official German sovereignty return, following World War II.

There was no gala celebration, no fabulous ballroom,  no champagne…nothing any where similar to the stereotypical New Year’s Eve bashes promoted by the fancy magazines.   Actually it didn’t even enter my mind that I had finally achieved the Magic Age of 21 and, although I did have a handsome husband…he was disinclined to partying on the German economy.    We MAY have attended a movie on the military base.

The following year on the Eve of 1957, we did celebrate the occasion with friends from downstairs…and we all played Pinochle.  This was fun, but not really a special celebration…we always played card games, Pinochle or Canasta, for example…or board games like Scrabble or Monopoly.   Besides, I was pregnant, so there went the fancy ballgown and dance shoes, any extravagant evenings out on the town.

…fast forward about thirty years…

After remarriage, we did do some reveling on New Year’s Eves…small parties among a small group of friends, mostly laughing and telling jokes, …  or attending such as local Civic Balls (more fun than it sounds) and dances…or a Game Night….  held in a rental hall somewhere in town.

A few New Year’s Eves we were in Mexico, or Portugal, or Arizona or somewhere else.   Once we were invited to a large private party in Mexico City…that was fun.   We were in Lisbon at the time that the US was involved in invading Panama, which did not make us popular with the Portuguese…at least I felt a chill from the locals, and a kind man in a pub invited us to sit at his table and he told us that we (Americans) were sort of shunned.

Then we just stayed home on New Year’s Eve…maybe went out to dinner and then sat around listening to music and having snacks and red wine, or maybe champagne…     At this point I usually declined sitting up to watch the “ball drop” in New York City.   The New Year did not depend on my attention to become active.

So I never did achieve my dream of the Perfect New Year’s Eve date.   No gala extravaganzas…no dancing like Ginger Rogers in a glittering flowing gown… but then I have always been something of a Dreamer, and although being a Dancer was high on my things I wanted to do when I grew up…my absolute lack of rhythm or dance poise completely dashed that aspiration.   Besides, I think Ginger Rogers had red hair….

Happy New Year 2016 everyone!!!