Brolga Dance

Brolga Dance

Newly hitched we hit

pop-hot spots in Sydney.

Occasion marked: Us.

Tickets to ‘The Lion King’

in old Capitol Theatre

took us back to Africa.

Sticky Date at Doyles

added more weight

to our love waistlines…

We watched the river,

Opera House teeming,

Coat-hanger tourists.

 

Sky-high Telecom chats

revolving restaurant

views topped off trip

 

before Aqua chatting,

large-finned silver

swimmers mesmerize.

Guinness for St Paddy

raised to Shamrock Green.

Chinese gardens walk,

Brolga dance to hotel

suite, (less public for

private celebrations).

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2011

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #DoylesRestaurant  #SydneyHarbourBridge  #SydneyAqarium  #SydneyOperaHouse  #Sydney:ChineseGardens  #TelecomTower  #RevolvingRestaurant

Links:  Telecom Tower Restaurant    Doyles Restaurant   Chinese Gardens of Friendship    Harbour Bridge    Sydney Aquarium   Sydney Opera House

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Throwback Thursday: NYTs at play…

Members of Northern Youth Theatre getting into character…  

   

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #NorthernYouthTheatre  #NYTsAtPlay  #AliceInWonderland  #TheSwimmingPoolPeople  #JoondalupFestival  #LittleFeetFestival   #BookCharacters

 

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Her First Time

Backstage. 

Dank, dusty, sweat-smells in the soft blue light. Rope, sandbags, tape-marks glow.  Scene-stay, props on the table in regimental order marked for Act 1,2,3.

Black on white sign yells ‘Silence for Performance’.

Soft sneakers pressed gently one in front of each other.  Movements slow – considered care.

Audience clapping. Material and audience murmur as Curtains Close Act 1.

Audrey rushes off-stage, clattering – chattering LOUDLY to her waiting beau, declaring her excitement at first performance.

Stage Manager lifts two fingers to mouth for silence – ignored.

Quick! Frustrated grab in the once-again dim light. His hand wraps around the wooden grip of a ‘Silence’ sign banged impatiently against a thigh as he follows.

Hushed stumble down to the dressing rooms, annoyed – door locked – can’t knock – too loud.

Scratch a little – reign in – wait with rebuke ready.  Click, unlocked door creaks open. Force the sign through the crack and whisper. “Quiet”.

He races back upstairs with heart pumping – ‘Damn!’ missed the bloody Curtain Open for Act 2.

All through Act 2 Audrey blithely entertains, celebrating her debut in the change rooms with popping champagne and muffled giggles.

Curtains Close Act 2.

‘Places Please’ bell for Act 3.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. 1,2,3 steps stage left.

Curtains Open Act 3.

Heavy heels approach uncaring, echo through dimly lit wooden stairs and empty stage.

Audrey bumps out.

Giggle – stumble – giggle. ‘Hic – Oh sorry Love – Hic…’

Frustration bites hard and a mouth thunders. “QUIET!”

A deathly scream and silence at last, as Curtains Close Act 3.

 

#francesmacaulayforde

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To ballerina’s everywhere…

My niece Ashleigh’s visiting from Canada where she lives with her partner Will – a wonderful surprise! 

I’m very, very proud of her – she’s the ballerina I always wanted to be.

First steps at three followed by years of tutor-ledge by her devoted sister Tenille at West Coast Dance Company and finishing at the world-renowned WAAPA in Perth.  

Of course you never finish learning, so Ashleigh has honed her craft with many prestigious dance companies since.  

Her art has taken her all over the world on ships and stages in Sydney, LA, London, Edinburgh and more recently Victoria.  

Performing makes Ashleigh smile inside.

At The Beginning: Thirteen year old Ashleigh won Runner-up in the National Cecchetti Congress Awards, competing against 16 year olds.

Many (too many) years ago, when I was about the same age, I wrote this poem.  Not so long ago I read it at Ashleigh’s Ballet-teacher big sister Tenille’s 21st.

The Prima Ballerina

She lives in a world of fairy tales,

all fantasy, happiness & woe.

Floating across the stage in tulle,

fine silk or organza, softly

pirouettes through the mist

or dies upon the snow.

This is the world of the Ballet

– of the Prima Ballerina.

 

So lithe, so fine, so beautiful,

so graceful and serene,

On stage supremely untouchable,

yet so frail behind the scenes.

She’s the queen of the Corps de Ballet

– the star with the golden feet

dancing her way through Petrushka,

Swan Lake or The Nutcracker Suite.

 

The audience, transfixed with awe

watch silently, as in a dream,

for gripped by suspense and beauty

such as they’ve never seen,

they observe the scenery so real

– the superbly made costumes

but they eyes are fixed on the Bluebird

and all it’s fine blue plumbs.

 

And when the ballet is done

and encore after encore taken,

baskets and bouquets of flower dispensed…

There’s such a feeling of despair

and longing at the end of so much

un-forgettable enchantment.

.

Frances Macaulay Forde @ 1962

We all dream of dancing through life but few of us have the commitment and character to carry it through.

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