After dining at the Rain Forest Cafe, with my daughter and her boyfriend, when returning home, my daughter pulls out her portfolio and shares with me. I asked her if it was ok if I posted it and she said, "ok". So, here it is:
"Grasp" by Beth Ceragioli
She dances with such beauty, such grace. Her clark blue dress acts as if it has a mind of its own as it follows the dancer's porcelain body as she twists and turns. As she reaches the climax of her piece, her hands begin to shake, her limbs fall limply, her body collapses. The bright lights gleam at the body on the dust covered stage. The audience gapes.
The dancer's father sitting in the front row immediately summons help. He glares at his beautiful daughter, then shifts his attention backwards to the thousands of people behind him, staring motionless. He wants to scream, how could they be so cruel? So coldhearted? There is not enough time; his daughter is slowly slipping into a neverending sleep, he can't lose grip, she's the only thing he has left in this world. red and white flashing lights appear through the windows; sirens are buzzing into the arena. The father cradles his lifeless daughter in his arms, and the men rush in with a white and blue stretcher. The father weeps in the back of the ambulance as he clutches his daughter's soft hand.
As the dancer slips into unconsciousness, she envisions herself in a garden piled high with red and white flowers. The sky is blue; the air is pure. She shuts her eyes, and breathes in the sweet scent. Her dream begins to become shaky, as if an earthquake had just struck her meek, little garden. She is being slapped between this sweet dream and a harsh reality. She opens her eyes to reality. The strange men in green and white clothing were placing paddles to her breasts, sending an electrocshock wave to her heart. She feels everything going on, but her mind is unable to control her body. It's as if her spirit was there, but her physical being was dead.
A young girl's eyes open; she's much younger than the dancer on stage. Her father is holding her hand. The girl sits up in her blue bed, wearing a nightgown with a dark blue collar. She glances at her red and white walls, then down to her dusty floor. Her pointe shoes lie on the dresser beside the bedroom door. She grips her father's hand tightly and says, "I'll never let go, just never give up".
"Dear Dad" by Beth Ceragioli (revised from 2006":
After every year you were never here
Every tear that dripped and shed
Every thought that flew through my head
I craved your love
Like a vampire craves blood
I morphed into who you wanted me to be
My acting was never pleasing enough, obviously.
I quit this game, forfeit, I'm through.
You call yourself a father? Oh this can't be true.
Mixed emotions had never been solved,
Until my newfound hate evolved.
I'm letting my emotions finally be set free
give me my life back, give back the key
You twisted me up, down to the core
Let's just say I'm not your little girl anymore
From here on out, I'm daddy's little defect
Having you as a father has been my best kept secret.
A daughter you do now lack.
Dad, I'm never coming back.
"Grasp" by Beth Ceragioli
She dances with such beauty, such grace. Her clark blue dress acts as if it has a mind of its own as it follows the dancer's porcelain body as she twists and turns. As she reaches the climax of her piece, her hands begin to shake, her limbs fall limply, her body collapses. The bright lights gleam at the body on the dust covered stage. The audience gapes.
The dancer's father sitting in the front row immediately summons help. He glares at his beautiful daughter, then shifts his attention backwards to the thousands of people behind him, staring motionless. He wants to scream, how could they be so cruel? So coldhearted? There is not enough time; his daughter is slowly slipping into a neverending sleep, he can't lose grip, she's the only thing he has left in this world. red and white flashing lights appear through the windows; sirens are buzzing into the arena. The father cradles his lifeless daughter in his arms, and the men rush in with a white and blue stretcher. The father weeps in the back of the ambulance as he clutches his daughter's soft hand.
As the dancer slips into unconsciousness, she envisions herself in a garden piled high with red and white flowers. The sky is blue; the air is pure. She shuts her eyes, and breathes in the sweet scent. Her dream begins to become shaky, as if an earthquake had just struck her meek, little garden. She is being slapped between this sweet dream and a harsh reality. She opens her eyes to reality. The strange men in green and white clothing were placing paddles to her breasts, sending an electrocshock wave to her heart. She feels everything going on, but her mind is unable to control her body. It's as if her spirit was there, but her physical being was dead.
A young girl's eyes open; she's much younger than the dancer on stage. Her father is holding her hand. The girl sits up in her blue bed, wearing a nightgown with a dark blue collar. She glances at her red and white walls, then down to her dusty floor. Her pointe shoes lie on the dresser beside the bedroom door. She grips her father's hand tightly and says, "I'll never let go, just never give up".
"Dear Dad" by Beth Ceragioli (revised from 2006":
After every year you were never here
Every tear that dripped and shed
Every thought that flew through my head
I craved your love
Like a vampire craves blood
I morphed into who you wanted me to be
My acting was never pleasing enough, obviously.
I quit this game, forfeit, I'm through.
You call yourself a father? Oh this can't be true.
Mixed emotions had never been solved,
Until my newfound hate evolved.
I'm letting my emotions finally be set free
give me my life back, give back the key
You twisted me up, down to the core
Let's just say I'm not your little girl anymore
From here on out, I'm daddy's little defect
Having you as a father has been my best kept secret.
A daughter you do now lack.
Dad, I'm never coming back.
No comments:
Post a Comment