No curtain rises: the stage
Dust hangs dimly in the lazy air.
No audience is there to stare
Nothing unfolds in the way of plot
That could help make sense of our human lot.
It's duller than glue, but this is what
It's all so tame,
you wonder why you came
And you long for a
As the hands of
Tick slowly slowly
Nothing occurs to rouse applause.
If there's an orchestra they've lost their scores.
The dialogue's an eternal pause
You stay there
though and you do not go
Though it's hardly
And your weary
Ticks slowly slowly
All the lines are lost beyond recall.
Any hope of enlightenment's less than small.
We can only wait for curtain-fall.
This is the first in a
series of twelve "Songs for an Impossible
Musical". Actually, it's your editor's New Year
resolution. Having written very little recently, he's set
himself the task of writing a poem/song each month in 2003.
Will they form a meaningful sequence? Will any be better than
this one? Only time will tell. Don't feel obliged to read the
things, but please do lob insults or rotten tomatoes at him
if he misses a deadline.
If you've any comments on
this poem, George Simmers would be pleased to hear from you.