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I remember the grey slithers of rain, The jocular driver, As I boarded the bus At Temple Meads, And the friendly lady who told me When we had arrived at the city centre,
Thump. Thump. I stand in complete darkness Thump. Thump. Waiting for the curtains to creep open. Thump. Thump. Knees Shaking Thump. Thump. Heart pounding Thump Thump
I count the seconds as they pass, each one getting closer and closer. I hold my script in my hand for my first entrance. My breathing increases slowly and slowly. I step on stage.
The lights, they beam down with powerful visibility. The stage, outstretched and lonely as far as I can see. The audience, physically unseen, but I’m conscience of their stares.
always to infinity, I fight the lights that scream (they are so bright!) Location: The auditorium Characters: Me? Purpose: To stop my hands from sweating so much, oh God this stupid costume itches
Before I found theatre, I was depressed, dysphoric, dispondent. I began with acting. I dived in headfirst. I had finally found a place where I belonged.
He is the best of the best. No one can compare. "Too bad he's just a dumb pancake," they say. But he's not. He's more. He is a creator. He tells stories, Builds worlds,
Black coffee, dirty nails, Calloused hands open a morning paper. Smeared ink, mirrored print, A gloomy world must be brightened somehow.
A platform for Thespis and song, I would like to thank the stage. A barrier from audience and wrong, I would like to thank the curtain. A guide off the stage and on, I would like to thank the lights.
Small. I began as a shy and scared student. But you slowly brought me from the shadows and taught me to be myself. You gave me the power to sing and dance for hundreds.
One of the funny things about life is that I am a writer But so often, in cast gifts or ‘thank you’ cards on closing nights I have found myself unable to articulate my gratitude for all you do
Red, fiery hair. She isn't scared. I never knew I would love it so much. But she opened my eyes, Showed me the beauty behind the stage. How the sound board worked,
Lessons I've learned, in meter and rhyme, From distances far and a place out of time, From poets so dead, lain out on a page And projected by me Friday night, center stage.
Dear Eagle Rock High School Auditorium, I was a mere seventh grader when you were renovated. I was afraid that the 90 years of history Would be lost. I guess that’s the thing about theatre. It vanishes.
The ballad to belt The number to master Cold reading the script Process of cutting Awaiting to hear from the producer Receiving an the ensemble role
I crouched down before the board Balanced on the balls of my feet. I rested my forehead against the side, curled my fingers up over the lines of your initials.
Dear Where I Belong, In these years I have sprouted like a fern Although shedding many tears I realized what I can’t unlearn
For me, Life is a stage. The show never ending. The curtain closes only at the end When nothing else is left to show.
The shakes, the nerves, the trembles of absolute fear I feel in the tiny hands attached to me. They control me. They make one motion that consumes my focus entirely. I am drowning in a sea of my anxiety.
Music, words spoken Fashion design, theatre Drawings and paintings
According to society, I have never been extraordinary. I do not fit today’s standards of pretty. I am invisible.
There it is:The familiar swirling of colors,The heat rising around,The faces.Everything is waiting. Time.Him(her).Them.They're all waiting for the first movement.The first word.The first color to be chosen. Like a swarm of butterflies the choices
I act to breathe in the gift of life. I act because a stage is the safest home and the strangest dream, and it welcomes every individual with open arms.
My identity is mixed and matched from the roles I play. I learn something new from each and every one About them and myself and The perception of the world from the stage. I'm not just a
Shall I compare him to Romeo himself? His eyes they glisten like Carribean seas. He prays for those in sickness and health, and gives to those who never say please.
They said let me pick your brain out Wait before you lay down Will you fill this page now They tell me how to live and they think I want the same route I've never been content as if all I see if rain clouds
Realistic, that's what you tell me Child! Be realistic you say to me Pick a realistic job, have a realistic dream Perhaps I don't want just some realistic job! To ask me to pick a realistic job
THE AUDITION ROOM ALLY IBACH I cannot count the number of times I have stood in a room being silently judged. Sometimes silent is not even the word.
It’s the orchestra, using their heartbeats to keep time, pulsing with the vibrance of syncopation. It’s the crew,
He was a beautiful chapter from cover to cover. Every star crossed moment, I will hold to forever. The silver letters, the golden pages... My God, it feels like it has been ages.
I am an actress living in a broken fantasy Not performing on a stage I dreamed of performing Not getting what I dreamed of receiving But I am patience for that shine of the light I have yet to see
I am a storyteller, A teller of tales not my own, Of those who were not recognized, Of those who went above And beyond, Of those who failed, Of those who at least Tried,
Take a deep breath Walk on stage Lights in your face you're on the stage you sit in silence waiting waiting to hear yourself you take a moment another deep breath you speak
Eyes of glass illuminate a face locked in a dream. A world, only a feet few beyond, Seizes his soul and holds him. A barrier stands, a wall unbroken. Lights shine through the impenetrable invisibility,
The hours, the preparation, the blood, sweat and tears All for that one moment Recognition. As the audience claps and cheers at the performance pure Ecstasy consumes me.
You aren't! They say,
I'm...a theater kid. It happened by mistake. once just a class, i didnt want to take. Now, im obsessed, always wanting more &, i'm not the shy girl i was once before.Costumes, layerd on top of more.
My directors always tell me to just go whenever I am ready,
Education, education education. That' all we ever hear from them. Temptation, temptation, temptation. Cheat. It's the only way you'll win. What about fun? What about joy?
PAC rats fill the school and can't wait for the class of arts. They want their English class to end and their choir class to start. Music and theatre are what motivates them to come to school.
The thrill chases the chill
It started with a bare Face with pure happiness and not a care in the world.As time went on, the Face has seen many other faces and places.
A stutter, a slouch, a quite tone, a closed off posture. The list goes on off the ways I close myself off. Don't speak up, stay to yourself, don't get noticed. The things
The dream of a fool, Many might say We’re capitalist’s tools, As we’re on our way Surviving as slaves On minimum wage at Wal-Mart or K-Mart Striving for the day until we get the part
It’s been a year, a year since I’ve been to a concert.
"All the World's a Stage," And we're just actors, right? But it takes more than actors To bring a show to life. I was a little starlet Born to sing and dance; Born to thrill the audience
I fell in love with this pastime, Now it’s my rhythm and it’s my blues. It became what keeps me going, It became my most heavenly muse. It is said the ones who truly care about you,
What is in a smile? Love Freedom Happienss Insparation Relaxation Releace Hope
The lights are shining The voices are singing I’m smiling like a thrilled child on the first day of kindergarten I love this I want to do this I want to sing like there is no tomorrow
Dedication. Determination. Trust. Passion. That is all it takes. An education. Major in business management. Double major in theatre. A four year university. That is all I need.
Since Freshman year, I love being on stage. I made entertaining my whole entire life. It always soothes me and calms down my rage.
Black as pitch,
Music, The notes fall off the page You listen to the beat The melody that flows Tap your foot That’s the groove that you love to listen to Batcha The drums go
A stage Bright lights
A stage Bright lights
Two eight-year-old boys meet. One of ebony skin, One of cream. After hours of frog-catching at the park, Their fathers see, and take them apart. Why can't we be friends?
[At the time that I performed this piece, it was the morning of the last performance of my high school career, and the end of the run of our production of ‘
Don’t ask me what I want to be I probably won’t answer I have been conditioned to reply A simple “I don’t know”
At any other moment, I may be just another tiny, twinkling light in the universe
We go our whole lives without looking for it,No one seeks the answers anymore,No longer are we wise men and women,No loner do we question existence,
They stare down at her
To the students we are "freaks" To the staff we are "special" To the administration we are "wasting time" To our parents we are "going through a phase". But to the script we are life
If I close my eyes, I can hear them The quiet mumbling of the crowd Voices mingling into one loud whisper
Have you ever been up on stage On display for all to see? To have such power over others emotions They laugh with joy then cry with sorrow All this you create Its such a great privliage
Spotlight warms my skin, I have a rising feeling, All I have worked for, One shot for the role, And I know the lines, The audition piece is engraved in my mind. My life is better on stage,
Exposition, plot, rising action This is how it begins Climax, falling action, resolution This is how it ends To tell a story is to give a gift To act one out is to inspire people true
It’s dark, cold and restless Her heart-now fearless She’s seen it all and nothing less She is an actress
I sit inside our little white box room Without windows, inhaling the mold. My classmates and I are filled with gloom, As the arctic AC makes us catch cold. We beg and we plead for funds we need
A playhouse sits silently In the midst of our gloomy town Its vibrant colours and intricate patterns Hidden beneath layers of dust and dirt
You walk into a room, feeling the cold breeze coming from the stage No, it just isn’t that simple They say, “theatre,” a seven-letter word
I'm a puppet, controlled by what I feel is Wrong. That won't work, my mind says. That is not a career. What is a career? To assume I won't be happy under the Stage Lights
Backstage A place where the audience never sees Where cloth and glitter transform the ordinary into magic Where buttons are popped and seams are ripped Where wigs are adjusted, and actors transformed
Serene darkness right before an entrance, The lights casting shadows upon the past, An artificial home supporting your steps, Deep breaths to prepare you for your moment, Theatre is out there,
When in all despair, I go there Waiting in the wings Where heart will soar and spirit fly Waiting in the wings All goes dark on the scheduled mark Waiting in the wings
Hush, Hush The house must be open The crew will scurry Like bats awoken The actors in their room With bulbs spitting bright light All getting ready For the big night
Every single mingling particle harnessing its power against me this hour rushing and hushing my wishes so vicious they run to stun me they gun me down seek my frown my head spins around
The lights go down before the show begins. The music starts and it is time to act, To tell a story to the audience. I squint into the lights, so gold and bright. So much rehearsal has gone into this.
For $10 an hour, I am a shield. I will physically put out a small fire, Stay to the back as a crowd rushes before me. I will wield the fire hose and perish in my theater.
The theatre is all I know and love. I pour my pain into a role, hoping it will cease. But it never does. It's a curse to be an actor. It's not glamorous. It's not happy. It's not fame. It's not money.
The sound of his breath loud The springs of the bed squeak The tear rolling down my face Just the rhythm of my heart beat The memories come flying back I never thought I'd feel like this
It was a tale of two She was Hip He was Hop They met in a frequency That no other knew of At a pace so fast That they left others behind Since that moment They stood hand in hand
The smell of autumn’s leaves fill the air Friday night lights shine down with their encouraging faces Giving hope, pumping adrenaline through the brave football players They’ll win the game tonight
Are my efforts even worth a dime? Or has this been a waste of time? We, in unison, wrote the rules and laws Happy and anxious we as we scribbled every clause