Archive for the ‘Poetry / Drama / Other Art’ Category

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Doggerel

December 28, 2004

I cannot tell which one is worse
(My head is filled with so much verse)
A Dickinson who cannot spell
Or Cummings’ commas gone to hell.


But still I know this much is true
My feet prove I’m a poet too.


(yep, you guessed it, they’re long fellows).




At the library tonight on the way home I picked up a copy of W.H. Auden’s light verse.  As I was heading back to the car, this just kind of popped into my head.  I’ve been reading an awful lot of poetry lately, so this fit.

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Poetry

December 26, 2004

(nd)


Tripping
Stumbling
Leapfrogging over my vocabulary
Fumbling
Searching, searching for the perfect word
Tumbling
Falling through a myriad of memories
Bumbling
I cannot find a simile to save me
Mumbling
Dickinson could write one without effort
Grumbling
Learning now how poetry is
Humbling




So the real question is, is anyone reading this?  My comments have been rather sparse (well, it has only been three or so days so far that this blog has even been in existence), but I do notice by the counter that someone is logging in…


I am craving feedback, so do tell.  What do you see here you like? Don’t like?  What poetry stirs your soul?  Do you write?  Read poetry? 


Always feel free to comment directly on a poem you see here on which you want to offer feedback.  Feedback is the reason I am keeping this blog.  I am anxious to know if the stuff I am writing works, so please let me know…

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Shakespearean?

December 25, 2004

1/25/1986


I appear in violet,
Emulating life.
On the stage, magnificent,
I play fear and strife.


Never get the parts I want,
Always cast as maids,
Mother-types, an English aunt
(Not dramatic aids).


Can’t they see I’d better play
Cute, romantic leads?
Stealing all the men away,
Satisfying needs?


I would play the part sublime,
Sweet romantic bliss.
But they tell me, “Not this time;”
Then they blow a kiss.


Sweetheart, I’m mature but spry!
(I have to act my age?)
Can’t you see the real lie
Is falseness on the stage?




I was thinking today of Elsa Raven.  Elsa Raven is one of those actors whose name you probably don’t know, but she has been on everything.  I mean, how many actors do you know who were in The Amityville Horror, Back to the Future, and The Titanic?  She’s also been on television shows from General Hospital to The Fresh Prince of Bel Air to Seinfeld.  Pretty impressive for a woman nobody knows.  Except, I know her.  Or rather my family does.  The reason we know her is because my mother went to school with her.  All through elementary and high school, Elsa Raven (then Elsa Rabinowitz) and my mother did drama together.  My mother was always cast in starring roles, Elsa in the supporting parts (an English aunt, mother types).  My mother graduated from high school, met my father during her first year in college, married, and never pursued acting.  Elsa made a career out of playing the parts that no one else could.  I always imagined what she must have secretly desired, to play the lead.  So, Shakespearean was written with her in mind.  Now let me be clear, we have never spoken, she and I.  I know her only by story and reputation.  But I could imagine a conversation something like this…