Quarter Hour Penny Theatre

QUARTER HOUR PENNY THEATRE


Where is my muse?
When I am a puppet
With no puppeteer
I wore out my shoes
Dancing alone
No strings attached


Scissors on a stage
Cutting a rug
Pen upon a page
Hacksaw in a cage
Sobriety is a drug
Hard to free yourself


I must amuse myself
The audience went home
The lights went down
All of the warmth I felt
Became the cold I know
In the dark, empty theatre
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace