Traditionally (based on four years of dead good blogging!) this last Saturday post of the old year has indulged in a mixture of reflection and plaudits. Circumstances dictate there's no time for that right now, so I'm keeping it short.
I love the ambience of an empty theater, the hush, the plush, the rows of chairs facing expectantly forward. Anything is possible and the magic is yet to begin. Roll on 2018...
Today's poem is in affectionate tribute to Pete Tong and the stalwarts of Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society, overseas students all, facing an uncertain future in our green and pleasant:
The P:0em That Goes Wrong
The year declines as this blank
versifier declaims anew [with much ado]
across the set of its
page to denizens
of old Britannia how
all that was good
all that was true
shall be..... [promptly]
debunked, deracinated and
demoted to a footnote,
tipped [as it were]
over the limelights into
that orchestra pit
of shattered dreamworks.....
.....cymbal and timpani of
discordant times Square rends
this mordant air, redolent
of Brussels' Sproutings &
Whitehall's
poutings from major
players who fluff
key lines by misarticulation,
[strutting ruffed and fretting]
{time out of joint}
in a power nap of
incidental judgement, casual
laughter spilling chillingly
till the last recorded syllable of the last
blasted
deportation
order. [Exeunt - CURTAINS]
Thanks for reading. Happy New Year everyone, S ;-) Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
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