Poems about ballerina



The Pianist and the Ballerina

He tunes his piano
She ties her pointos.

He sits on his stool
She takes center-stage.

He plays the opening note
The spotlight flashes on her.

He can only hear the crowd's loud cheers
She can only see eyes upon her regal body.

He glues his eyes to his sheets
She fixes her mind upon her movements.

His fingers move mechanically along the keys
Her limbs sway to the tune of precise timing.

He has played this score hundreds of times
She has rehearsed her steps to faultless perfection.

He lets his memory guide his fingers
She lets her limbs free to do their own work.

He steals a glance at her
She opens her ears to lilting melody.

Those sheets of notes cease to exist;
He's busy composing his heart's birdsong.

She is no longer a puppet in the audience's hands
Her soul leaps joyfully towards new-found release.

She is his music
And he's her dance.

ballerina,  pianist.

Author: Madhumati Manjunath
Date: 19/03/2020



Never will I be covered in tattoos

My legs and toes shall forever stay bruised.

I'll never paint or carry a tune

Forever and ever, I'll wear a tutu.

I won't dye my hair pink or blue

My piercings will stay as the simple two

Nails cut short and hair in a bun

In ballet, this must be done.

Pink tights by the mound

Bobby pins all around

Leotards on the floor

Pointe shoes by the door.

Toes taped so tightly

Smiling big and brightly

Red lipstick adding to her beauty

The dancer moves so smoothly.

Turned out from my hips

No words coming from my lips

I dance sweetly to the sound

Ooh ballet, to you, I am bound.

Full of grace, never haste

Filling perfectly my costume of lace

Ever so sweet, my dancing feet

Step after step, I repeat and repeat.

Obtaining perfection is my key

It's what I strive for, it's all that defines me

Pushing harder and harder to reach my goal

It's what I live for, ballet is my soul.

My toes may bleed

And my knees, grow weak

But I'll never stop dancing...

Not until I reach my peak.

Pirouette, Pirouette

Dancer's silhouette

Practicing at dusk

Dedication is a must.

Stretching my limbs

Choreographing on a whim

Alway aiming to be stronger

To hold my arabesque longer.

When I do finally reach that triple pirouette

And all is done and all is set

I put myself back into class

Aiming for a fourth, to be better than the last.

This is the life of a dancer en point

Risking the health of her feet, legs and joints

Just for that one perfect moment on stage

Where the ballerina stands tall and all are amazed.


Author: Ghazal
Date: 16/03/2020


The struggles of being a BLACK ballerina

All of my dance life people told me how I would never make it
How i'm not good enough
How I don't have a dancer body
How i'm not graceful enough
But I didn't care what others thought
Dance was my escape
Dancing was all I cared about
It was all I could think about
Their words and the struggle I had to go through only made me stronger as a dancer
It made me who I am today
And I stand for every other black ballerina out there
- Your weakness can be your greatest *strength

ballerina,  black,  struggles.

Author: Bunhead17
Date: 01/03/2020


My Ballerina

I love to see her dance,
Graceful movememts following the tune,
But I never wished her to be a ballerina,
It kills me when I saw her pale, cold, stiff tiptoed foot


Author: Ten
Date: 29/02/2020


The Ballerina

A woman traipsed with the whole company of ballet;
She was but only a soloist, a mere sujet.
Her companions wore clothes for traveling hard,
But our sujet, she dressed in dancing shoes and leotard.
Her head was upturned and her nose pointed
High, as if by a great saint she had been anointed.
With ease she stretched into each dainty pose
But no other ballerina saw the bandages wrapped around her toes,
Which she had to replace every other hour;
Seeing her bleeding sores did often make her cower.
To the other ballerinas she was dismissive and tart
But her oft-clenched fists belied the faltering of her heart.
Her chestnut hair she had dyed golden like the rest
And her curves became thin so she would dance her very best;
She had hidden herself inside ‘till her olive skin turned pale,
Believing if she fit in, at her craft she never could fail.
Instead of breaking her fast or supping at night
She practiced her art and took nary a bite.
The ballet troupe sneered while the sujet put on her airs
Yet I know she wept at the ice hardened in their stares.


Author: Robbie
Date: 01/02/2020


The Fat Ballerina

Tiny ballerinas
With their “oh so shapely” legs
Laugh and tease her unmercifully
About her pudgy pegs

She disregards their ugly stares
And dances with everlasting jolly
But putting on her leotard
Is really quite the folly

Her lovely ballet slippers
Are really a tad bit snug
No problem for this buxom girl
She can really “cut a rug”

Spinning and twirling a bit
Sweat upon her lovely brow
They all laugh at her
Some even call her a cow

She doesn't even slow her roll
She takes it all with a grain of salt
€They're idiots” she says
€It's not really their fault

Smiling until the very end
Her tutu off to the side
Her curly hair all askew
But she takes it all in stride

So don't feel bad for her
And don't shed any tears
She's had to fight this battle
For oh so many years

They say she's old and really fat
Yes maybe she could be thinner
A discussion for another day
€cause it's almost time for her dinner

ballerina,  fat.

Author: ultimatepanicqueen
Date: 22/01/2020


Ballerina (Haiku)

Lacy pink roses
She is dancing on the stage
She's dainty tonight


ballerina,  haiku.

Author: Marian
Date: 06/01/2020


The Ballerina

She was graceful; as slim as a magic wand,
Clad in ribbons and pretty pink chiffon.
All things perfect; everything nice,
Peace like the ocean, to be precise.

The pair was a fairytale, they had the magic sparks,
Clad in checks and polka dotted marks.
All things perfect; everything nice,
Peace like the ocean, to be precise.

She would twirl in front of the mirror,
Whilst her feet hurt, but her hair would shimmer.
It was a mystery that couldn't be told,
It was a truth that was soon to unfold.

The two were infatuated and inseparable and snug,
Whilst the warnings were simply swept under a rug.
It was a mystery that couldn't be told,
It was a truth that was soon to unfold.

She would be dazzled by the awe of the audience,
Pleased by the people's cheers and its pleasance,
It was the finale, it was time for her to leap...
What a twist! She fell in a heap.

The boy and the girl were dazzled by each other's presence,
A little timid amidst a chocolate fragrance,
It was time to say the words of three...
What a twist! She had to retreat.


Author: Sacred Secret
Date: 05/01/2020