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| Writing on Dance |
| Ok, I've been wanting to put this up here for a long time, and I finally have some free time, so here it is. My love of dance has led me to write about it, and here's a few things that I've written. If you have any feedback, comments, chocolate or flames, email me. |
| Musings of a Dancer I stand and wait behind the wings and listen as the vocalist sings. In a moment I�ll be out there, moving wildly without a care. My leo�s black, my tights are pink, too bad to dance, you have to think. My brain is gone, my mind confused, I hope the crowd won�t be amused. My nervousness is being displayed by my shaking legs, but I�m not afraid. Fear is something that comes with hate, not with something that is your fate. Dance is something you have to love, to use your body to float like a dove. You have to be ready, to know your cue, if you�d like to dance, I�d love to show you. The only things you need for dance, are a body that�s willing and a will to take chance. A knowledge of music can also help, because for dance, the songs need to be felt. It also helps to know the fashion, but the main thing you need, to dance, is passion. |
| Dancer She woke up and could feel the pain in her feet, but knew that it was because of a good thing. Throwing her legs out of bed, she stretched and went out into the kitchen, hearing a loud ping. Her cat had knocked over her bag, and a single shoe had fallen out, landing on the glass. She looked at it, rubbed her cat�s gray ears, thinking to herself,� What a funny lass.� She picked up her things, and walked gracefully out of her house, and got in her car. �No,� she said out loud, to no one in particular.� I�ll walk to the studio today, it�s not far.� She arrived at the place, and sat down. She put her shoes on lovingly, this was her passion. With no one else there, she stood, walked out to the floor, and started moving, fast, and without caution. Her mind raced, her arms swirled, her body moved with the silent music of her mind. She moved without care, wrapped in her world, so she didn�t see the others of her kind. The others watched her fly, they watched her soar, they watched her twirl and leap. When finally, exhausted with her own outburst of emotion, she collapsed in a heap. They cautiously moved toward her, not knowing what to expect her to do. She moved slightly, then sat up. They encircled her, they wanted to dance like that too. All dancers want to dance like her, dancing straight from the heart and soul. To move without guidance, to feel your own heart, that is every dancer�s goal. |
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