La Petite Dansuer

by Threnody

Published November 12, 2008

In Poems

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I stand in repose.
This is the only time
when I'm really at ease,
and the silver lining
on my slippers
match those on the clouds.

And when he's sketching me.
In fourth position
though my neck aches,
I am proud.
and I know he knows,
I don't glitter, but I'm gold.

He says I'll be a star. Just wait and see Guenvieve.

Slowly I watch
as his sketch comes alive.
And there I stand,
a miniature.
Of wax.
I am portrayed, the little dancer.

I watch as my little sculpture
he made of me
is displayed
in a box.
keeping me safe.
From the sticks and stones that may break my bones.

And what do they say? They say that words will never hurt me.

But they do.
The words carelessy tossed at my glass box
could be enough to break it into a million pieces.
I only hope that one of those awful critics,
will be hit by shrapnel.

But she is so real.
She could walk out of that box
and walk away from those horrible words.
If only she was beautiful
What does that say about me?
What does that say about him?

Ah... but 250 years later I am a star. I am the Little Dancer. I have made him, Edgar Degas, famous.

Comments & reviews · 4
User avatar
~threnody~ Comment
~threnody~ commented Comment · Feb 8, 2009

Good job.

User avatar
miyaviloves
Review
miyaviloves wrote a review Review · Nov 14, 2008

Terrible????

We were looking at the statue in general studies the otehr day and how the public hated it becuase the girl looked like a monkey or something and was not a perfect ballerina like they wanted to see, and that now the clothes and hair is all decaying...nice ;)

I thin kthat the poem caputred it really well, I mean therer are faults in it but nothing that you cannot change, just look over it and see what you think dosen't work :)

All the best,
Meevs
x

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Threnody
Comment
Threnody commented Comment · Nov 14, 2008

I know. It's absolutely terrible

User avatar
Trident
Review
Trident wrote a review Review · Nov 13, 2008

Hi oboemagic,

Interesting stuff here. You have some powerful assonance in the first stanza, and I really like how you have the sound of "moor/mour-/more" in the second. However, I think the third stanza might need a little work. The rhyme at the end of the lines and the alliteration are nice, as well as the assonance in the first line, but the second line is a little off. I would drop the word "whosoever".

Also, I would do something differently with the last stanza. Though it is pensive, it means little. I would write something that has more tangible effects.

Overall, it sounds great, considering the techniques you've carefully constructed within it. My suggestions--and that's merely what they are--might help, but you've got a nice little poem here and some bright promise in poetry writing.



Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses ... deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth—reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light.
— Guildenstern (Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard)