From gymnast to poet, that one would dare
And the enthralling story of a most gregarious pair.
Our heroin is feisty, gorgeous Russian ballerina
Such accolades and admires “Ho! You should have seen her”
“Billy Whiz he loves Snow White
They make love all the time
She‘s a bizarre human Crystal
You‘ll find they’re both quite sublime”.
Drew her cardigan closed, twitched with shiver
She was born on the banks of the Volga River.
Christened Caroline Yudin a ardent Bolshoi fan
From proud Jewish Cossacks, living in Kazan.
But she changed her name to Anastasia Fontaine
And she was thus known – through her reign;
Recounting her youth, while fondling her cat
Joined Russian state circus, as a performance acrobat,
I miss those days, wished it would never stop
The freedom of the traipses, the busy big top;
Oh! The gifts, the jewellery and flowers
Worked hard on her act, for so many hours.
Then as a performance artist, called Outside the Box
Usual thing of straight jackets and dodgy padlocks.
One momentous night she met Max, so handsome and tall
While performing a gig, in Ditchling village Hall,
The Baron Maximillion Von Bergmann
Love at first sight, met your biggest fan.
Born in Düsseldorf, in Weimar Republic days
Boy did he rock her world, in so many ways.
He was a magician, a showman extraordinaire
Chivalrous and flamboyant, and the devil may care;
They were so debonair, a colourful couple
Youthfully gorgeous, so immodest and supple.
“They paint Bolshevik slogans
On the factory walls
And exercise animal passions
At fashionable balls;
Oh it’s America calling
So let’s jump the gun
Deliver the populous in revolt
And still had time for fun”.
Her lipstick now reapplied, with ironic irreverence
Fragile get gutsy, with opinions of reverence,
The wall paper and her makeup both peeling away
As the paint on the window frame, seen a better day.
The radio played Shostakovich and her beloved Elgar
In her night gown and perils, every inch a star;
Admitting only memories – that now remain
About a wonderful gregarious life, in the fast lane.
“Dancing in a slaughter house
I need of extra cash
For devils, for lovers
The wild vulgar trash;
So who is the cockstar?
With passion unbridle,
Mesmerized by Hepburn
But in search of an idle”.
I’m lonely sometimes, the company that I miss
Adorning the cat’s head with an affectionate kiss.
A tear drop formed in the corner of her eye
Quiet and yet heart felt, she let out a sigh.
Anastasia perspective on life, sad how its hardens
Peering out of the window, in Brunswick gardens
The nobility of the cabaret, into the limelight hurled
As Max’s assistant, they performed around the world!
Worked in Las Vegas, and for the Sultan of Brunei
In the Lido in Paris and the Rixos in Dubai.
We lived life to the full and never by half
A gravelly cough gave way to a throaty laugh;
Max’s illusions as card sharp – was totally meticulous
With his curled moustache, looked faintly ridiculous.
They would sit at the Marina and watch the sunset
Joyful times past that she will never forget.
He promised to buy a boat; we go sailing in the sea
Then he committed suicide, in two thousand and three;
I think he missed the applause and the theatre spotlight
When he ceased performing, it never felt right.
“Just champagne and cocaine
Dressed in leather and gold.
Your breath is still warm
But our magnums stay cold”.
These dieing days, they were never the plan
Long nights spent on vodka and Temazepan;
But sculptures her poems, to the end one must
Reveal tails of promiscuity, such rampant lust.
She said “publish my work – before I go mad”
Then to visit her sister, in old Stalingrad.
Now ravaged by malignancy, given to frighten
I’ll treasure these years, living in Brighton.
With a lopsided smile, for through she would pause
Yes I’m a tragic comedy; I’m a martyr to the cause,
As she fumbled for her Rothmans in a tatty sequin purse
Only visitors now, the Landlord and the Macmillan nurse;
When next in stationers care to have a look
You may find a copy of her poetry book,
Emblazoned the label of Champagne and Cocaine
Crafted from real events by Anastasia Fontaine.
