Bamboozled is an online magazine, written and maintained by a hive of teenagers in San Francisco. Our website is a platform for us to explore, create, and express ourselves, without having to worry about boundaries or censorship. We aim to inspire our readers to do the same.

truth

cassadi

The Dirty Ballerina

by Wednesday, November 8th, 2000.

Thirteen ballerinas all in a row.
Twelve of them prepare for a show.
Most of the ballerinas are in pretty pink dresses,
But one of the dancers is busy with messes.
She is the thirteenth and is always quite dirty,
Her mother’s convinced she’ll never reach thirty.
She likes to play outside in the greenest of grasses,
She never willingly attends her paid for dance classes.
And when she is forced, she’ll kick and she’ll scream:
“Mommy oh Mommy I won’t work with the team!”
(Her mother is angry, but how could one refuse
Such a seemingly sweet face that’s truly a ruse.)
So number thirteen plays with mud in the corner
And slowly comes teacher to patiently warn her:
“Penelope my dear the show must go on. It happens today.
Come to dance. Join us. Let’s dance the day away!”
Penelope still sat, deep in dancing thought.
It could be fun, however, it’s taught.
“Penelope. Our grand opening draws near.
Could it be that our Penelope is taken with fear?”
Instantly she stood and flew from her corner.
It certainly was smart for teacher to warn her.
Penelope was changed into a pretty pink dress,
She was no longer playing with her muddy mess.
All of the little ballerinas stood in a row.
The pretty dancers were ready for the show.
The curtain rose and out danced number thirteen,
She danced past the dancers and made herself seen.
She danced up a storm upon the small stage,
Her teachers calm face reddening with rage.
“I am Penelope,” she cried out with glee.
“Look how I dance. Mom look at me.”
The entire audience began to whisper and giggle,
never had they seen a dancer display such a wiggle.
She danced and she danced until she fell to the floor,
the audience stood and clapped and asked her for more.
But Penelope was so tired, for she never had thought
to actually practice and to listen while taught.
But she manage to stand and daintily prance,
“I am Penelope! And I dance my own Dance!”

Posted in truth

Leave a Comment

We encourage intelligent and mature feedback. Thank you!





XHTML: You can use these tags: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>