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“Poezija”
1.
An aged tree
struggles to grow free from itself:
its outer branches turned inward;
twisting, turning, pushing in and up
then outward again,
creaking and struggling
throughout the years
—a countless calendar
for all intents and purposes;
an ode of our inhumanity to nature,
if it could speak.
The prima-ballerina . . . retires!
2.
Structured steel
struggling to be free of itself:
(countless) cables of iron twisting
across, downward, around each other
then upward again;
giant steel beams pinnacle
as if struggling for life
—a welded calendar;
dedication of humanity
to science and entertainment
is what it seeks.
The prima-ballerina . . . is born!
3.
Poezija . . .
you are the ballerina.
The song of your dance
takes wings in my heart
—it soars.
It flies inside me
but you are the swan.
Poezija . . .
like a flowing verse,
your rhythm.
Your movements
melt together
like snowflakes
in the sun.
Twirl me into a trance.
Take all of me
into your dance.
No feather . . . no down!
Your passion is poezija.
You are
the ballerina.
© C. Steven Blue 8/17/1990
Written for Nina Ananiashvili
Backstory for Poezija: The Ballerina
Poezija is the Russian word for poetry. I wrote this poem in 1990, for
Nina Ananiashvili, the prima ballerina of the Bolshoi ballet. It is about
two prima ballerinas, one about to retire and one who is just becoming a
star. The poem has three parts and there is an interesting story behind it:
I was working as the foreman of a backstage rigging crew when I wrote
parts one and two of this piece. It was written, literally, on a steel beam, 80
feet in the air, while rigging a new fly-rail system at the Shrine Auditorium
in Los Angeles, CA in the summer of 1990. We were on a deadline to
get the fly-rail working for the new season of the Bolshoi Ballet, which
was arriving at The Shrine in three weeks.
While watching union welders create new structural support beams for
the system, and while waiting for parts to be hoisted from the stage 80
feet below, I found the time and inspiration to write a poem! As I had
no pen or paper, only the Sharpie in my tool-belt, I used it to write on
one of the new steel beams, which I just happened to be sitting on! My
original writing still exists on that beam, high over the backstage grid of
the theatre.
Part three of this poem was written three weeks later, expressly for
Nina Ananiashvili, prima ballerina for the Bolshoi Ballet. As it turned
out, this would be their final tour performed in the United States
before the U.S.S.R. split apart and the Bolshoi, as we had known it,
all but disappeared. This part of the poem was written backstage while
I was working on the ballet, as I watched Nina dance in her premier
performance for the season. I later presented it to her and she, in return,
presented me with an autographed picture, a tour poster signed by the
entire company and a red Bolshoi baseball cap with the inscription . . .
"To Steven— the best poet in America."
When I put all three parts of the poem together, it was evident that the
poem represented the retiring of one prima ballerina and the new rising
star of another. It seemed like serendipity that the three parts fit so well
into one piece.
Near the end of the poem is the phrase, No feather . . . no down! This
is the Russian way of saying . . . Break a leg!
1.
An aged tree
struggles to grow free from itself:
its outer branches turned inward;
twisting, turning, pushing in and up
then outward again,
creaking and struggling
throughout the years
—a countless calendar
for all intents and purposes;
an ode of our inhumanity to nature,
if it could speak.
The prima-ballerina . . . retires!
2.
Structured steel
struggling to be free of itself:
(countless) cables of iron twisting
across, downward, around each other
then upward again;
giant steel beams pinnacle
as if struggling for life
—a welded calendar;
dedication of humanity
to science and entertainment
is what it seeks.
The prima-ballerina . . . is born!
3.
Poezija . . .
you are the ballerina.
The song of your dance
takes wings in my heart
—it soars.
It flies inside me
but you are the swan.
Poezija . . .
like a flowing verse,
your rhythm.
Your movements
melt together
like snowflakes
in the sun.
Twirl me into a trance.
Take all of me
into your dance.
No feather . . . no down!
Your passion is poezija.
You are
the ballerina.
© C. Steven Blue 8/17/1990
Written for Nina Ananiashvili
Backstory for Poezija: The Ballerina
Poezija is the Russian word for poetry. I wrote this poem in 1990, for
Nina Ananiashvili, the prima ballerina of the Bolshoi ballet. It is about
two prima ballerinas, one about to retire and one who is just becoming a
star. The poem has three parts and there is an interesting story behind it:
I was working as the foreman of a backstage rigging crew when I wrote
parts one and two of this piece. It was written, literally, on a steel beam, 80
feet in the air, while rigging a new fly-rail system at the Shrine Auditorium
in Los Angeles, CA in the summer of 1990. We were on a deadline to
get the fly-rail working for the new season of the Bolshoi Ballet, which
was arriving at The Shrine in three weeks.
While watching union welders create new structural support beams for
the system, and while waiting for parts to be hoisted from the stage 80
feet below, I found the time and inspiration to write a poem! As I had
no pen or paper, only the Sharpie in my tool-belt, I used it to write on
one of the new steel beams, which I just happened to be sitting on! My
original writing still exists on that beam, high over the backstage grid of
the theatre.
Part three of this poem was written three weeks later, expressly for
Nina Ananiashvili, prima ballerina for the Bolshoi Ballet. As it turned
out, this would be their final tour performed in the United States
before the U.S.S.R. split apart and the Bolshoi, as we had known it,
all but disappeared. This part of the poem was written backstage while
I was working on the ballet, as I watched Nina dance in her premier
performance for the season. I later presented it to her and she, in return,
presented me with an autographed picture, a tour poster signed by the
entire company and a red Bolshoi baseball cap with the inscription . . .
"To Steven— the best poet in America."
When I put all three parts of the poem together, it was evident that the
poem represented the retiring of one prima ballerina and the new rising
star of another. It seemed like serendipity that the three parts fit so well
into one piece.
Near the end of the poem is the phrase, No feather . . . no down! This
is the Russian way of saying . . . Break a leg!
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