Best Pantomimes Poems
"......Prophecy......."
_____________________
Revelations....
Tears are red
Hearts are blue
A pantheon
Pantomimes
Paradigms
For, me and you
Metaphores....
On distant shores
Approaching
Soon ~
Marching bands
Dripping hands
Warriors
Beyond
Your view....
Tears are red
Hearts
Their blue
Melting stars
This, bursting moon
Pantomimes
Panoramic signs....
Paradigms
Foretold times
Prophecies
Coming
True ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The `End of Days!?
Flies in the dark black as night
Cloak waving like wings… such a fright
It gives all the people, who are watching close by
Leering face makes children cry.
Always an angel with wings of pure white
Nearby….. waiting to put all things right
To wave a magic wand with a gentle smile
Making people smile again…. for awhile
Life is like that, shades of black and white
Days of depression cannot see the light.
Along comes someone who with a smile
Lightens your load…. Just for a while.
So the pantomimes at Christmas really reflect life
Stories from long ago so very lifelike
Dark followed by light happens in all of our lives
Like a checkerboard of black and white strife
Penned 15/2/2017
With painted face and silent smiles they light the night so dim,
Oblivious to their stalker and his diabolic whim.
They'd come to sunny Florida to flee Maine's winter snow
And play their silent pantomimes on sidewalks as they go.
But the analyst has programs and experiments to run;
Methodic’ly he thus connects the silencer and gun.
Onlookers claim the analyst did murder them that night,
Then calmly pulled his pencil out, his test's results to write.
But as for wherefores and the whys, when asked of him a reason,
If these are not fair game, he cries, Why call this 'Tourist Season'?
His court appointed council does the best that he is able
To win the jury's pity for this client so unstable.
This man, his sobbing lawyer pleads, was brilliant as a child.
He never was a vicious lad, and next to most, quite mild.
Such things he pondered others wondered, if indeed they never spoke them,
As, to what hue those Smurfs, now blue, would turn, were one to choke them.
The lawyer then begins to quote behavior science stats
Of those who make their living pulling habits out of rats.
If in his heart a man resorts to rationalization
A wrong might seem a right when there's sufficient provocation.
As situations worsen and confusion grows with time;
Seems right, when with a silencer, one shoots a silent mime.
If innocent is how you find there's none 'twould you disparage,
For squelching this inquiring mind would be a grave miscarriage.
Those murders were experiments, not born of animosity;
Performed were they to satisfy a morbid curiosity.
Still the jury found him guilty and to ease his troubled brain,
Ordered soon a lethal potion be injected in his vein.
When asked before the gavel rapped for any final comment,
The killer scratched his head as if his muddled mind to foment.
Yes just one further question in this form of execution
do they disinfect the needle in a sterilized solution?
How big you seemed, how bright your stage
how loud and funny, in my little boy's eyes
you were larger than everyone else's life,
even a lifetime later, your memory still is
Those amazing vaudeville routines, with new
command performances for each gathering,
were rehearsed in daily kitchen pantomimes
while we children sat in wide eyed awe
An Irish version of the Honeymooners,
so funny that you didn't need Art Carney
so real that sometimes, I held my breath
....to the moon, McGinty, to the moon!
He would bellow and I would nervously ask,
is she really going to the moon, Mommy?
Then they'd be off on another rollicking
road in the evening's riotous repertoire
The quieter types would roll their eyes
when the curtains would part on Act 1
while everyone else laughed and wished
that they could be just like you two
To the moon, McGinty, to the moon....
Time to think, a pondering, non action's prime.
Thank you Life for the always affirmative actions of folks with intent sublime.
~Thank you for the good intentions of the pure pacifist’s present lifetimes.
~~Thank you for their prayers, non action relates richly random over time.
Thank you Heaven, they do not “Jump the Gun” an early expression, excerpt, crime.
~Thank you, this daft, deadly, denotation, fails; this mantra of sometimes.
~~Thank you, when the furious, fractious, fall in actions error aforetime.
Thank you Mother when waiting wonder, goes slowly, prayerful to Prime.
~Thank you Father as in action, breathe, beauty, brevity, pantomimes.
~~Thank you All for the smiling, simpe, shining, days of springtime.
Thank You when the hate and horror heals and with the end of wartime.
~Thank You with the creation of many more merciful pastimes.
Enrich our earth journey with patience, prudence, providence, sublime.
Praise the people of peace for all of time.
Rolling tides where the dolphins chase sharks
holler rather than hark, we blew words
Cowboys round horses in dusty bowls
Their souls speak much but utter few words
Preach forgiveness, shame ungratefulness
But their hatefulness spews no true words
Swallow your pride, the tales you sung
Lies on your tongue, these hard to chew words
I've run out of plays and pantomimes;
Old metaphors and rhymes, find new words
Revelations....
Tears are red
Hearts are blue
A pantheon
Pantomimes
Paradigms
For, me and you
Metaphores....
On distant shores
Approaching
Soon ~
Marching bands
Dripping hands
Warriors
Beyond
Your view....
Tears are red
Hearts
Their blue
Melting stars
This, bursting moon
Pantomimes
Panoramic signs....
Paradigms
Foretold times
Prophecies
Coming
True ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End of Days!?
A long running pantomime was coming to an end of its successful showing. Once more one of the radio DJs asked if anyone had appeared in a pantomime. Then she asked if anyone wanted to appear in one, and if they did, what character would they like to be. The DJ had herself appeared in several pantomimes apparently and once she was Dick Whittington. I can never understand why ladies play boys parts, and men play women’s parts in pantomimes but it’s all good fun, isn’t it? I sent her this poem on her Facebook page.
If I could be in a pantomime
By The new mad Author
29-1-16
If I could be in a pantomime.
I’d be Dick Whittington’s cat.
Because I’d be covered up.
So not be recognised as that.
There is another reason.
I expect you know.
As would get lots of praise.
From that Dick Whittington you know.
Of course I would purr a lot.
If a certain Dick Whittington I had got.
The name I’m not allowed to tell.
Glad I did not choose William Tell.
A Purr-fect poem got not a whisker of a reply Me-ow.
Glitter glue laced ticker tape....
Of colourful confetti covering such sight
More and more, their eyes dipped in tars
Infectious quills, beneath these softened feathers
Penetrating, their own fatalities cryptograms....
As they aimlessly blend a colludeds pretentious purpose?
Bending this times fading, unto its very own knees!
Within these, their poisoned spoiled schemes
Buried beneath such smiling lotus faces; cracked
These mannequins dressed in their own dark blank black....
Messengers without a promises clue; not knowing whom they are?
Perditions offspring they seem; these, children of the sintarians star
Venin poised at the tip of their tongues!
Hidden, behind sacrilegious' ruby red lips
Drippings, of a partings depository decay?
Trying to spread their gangrenous green blood
Throughout my venous' veraciously pulsing veins
Like liquid streams of futility....
These pantomimes' grand charades
Parabolics, with hollowed fangs!
Puppets, upon their powdered strings
Amid the soul asylums sanctuary
Of the indeed, vanguards inane....
Colourless confetti, permeating my sight
This contributor, of the jet black pain
Spawned, by the principality of invectives, inverted cross
The bleakest paramour amid the paralax of their unknowings
Souls, thrice times dead....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perditions Parade
A monochrome of boho days
segue one another surreptitiously.
Endless pantomimes of idle chatter flutter by.
Cantilever bridge, a one stop halting site for gossip and suspense.
Small talk, bespoke winged creature, Combe of pleuron.
Turin shroud spotter in the mise en scene melting pot.
The spirited stride of pavement strollers prompted by
agenda.
Metatarsals on the march.
Street vendor’s spooky cry with banjo beating busker at his side.
Dirt pan bellow and brittle strum about the
orange alert ahead.
Crowded car park, careening bus, frustrated taxi driver rank and file.
Backstreet Barney or kerfuffle on the lawn.
Swing sign overhead, a pawn in every trending breeze.
Office block malarkey cutting capers for the press.
New age ante-fix, the cover tile for corruption.
Whistle blowing wag inside the
city centre fault line.
Brass neck
reservoir of hoodwink high and low.
Harassed mother, barefoot beggar
nervously extends her rusted tin.
Guilt edge coin as bandage to our shoddy scruple.
Bag lady on the fringe of some haute couture complex.
Stasi-like security whose bluff veneer belies an inner
bludgeon.
Crouton salad diner has his finger on the pulse but not his pulse rate!
Tycoon in transition with an open brief!
Teflon tyrant
back to the future.
Ambulance chaser …. legal eagle…..with fortune in misfortune their calling card .
To the limit and beyond like an offshore Ansbacher.
Noonday bell
interloper at the scuttlebutt tavern.
Seconds out,
moments out,
hours in a hari kari haze.
Sensei’s of the left filling void with vacuum.
Laboured diatribe against dynasty, trite slogans, empty rhetoric, mannah from heaven?
All this from the cadres of social despotism!
Passage, the
pollinating insect of aroha.
Behind the rhythm of the grind a broad leaf grain of hope may sprout.
Green shoots of bounty.
Latent sidewalk bloomer.
Blossom by default or tender impulse
*VIDEO of San Francisco by Scott McKenzie, Cheers to Tony Bennett.
City of Hearts and Home by the Bay
Day star's mist yields to its grip of a bridge,
Span steel strands, harp-like, golden tags a smidge,
Light drapes the streetcars, up and down the hills,
Chimes, mass speeches, music, and painted stills,
Juggling pantomimes, street fair atmosphere,
Haight and Ashbury crossing yesteryear,
Fisherman's Wharf nearby Pier 39,
Seafood platters and fine dining with wine,
Downtown Union Square, lunching alfresco,
Market Street, Tiffany's, a Broadway show,
San Franciscans, whenever we're in Rome,
Ideal for some, but we call this home.
2022 December 31
*2nd Place*
Take Me There
~~Margarita Lillico: Judged 2023 January 21
*RZ & HMS.
Revelations....
Tears are red
Hearts are blue
A pantheon
Pantomimes
Paradigms
For, me and "You."
Metaphores....
On distant shores
Approaching
Soon ~
Marching bands
Dripping hands
Warriors
Beyond
Your view....
Tears are red
Hearts
Their blue
Melting stars
This, bursting moon
Pantomimes
Panoramic signs....
Paradigms
Foretold times
Prophecies
Coming
True ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The end of days!?
Note: Smile ~ Repo
from Winter of 06' ~
"'Love,' John!:) ~ Ps.
"Happy New Year!?"
They closed my mother's casket
to be buried next to Dad today.
The crowd that came to honor her
began to walk away.
Nothing left but tiny breeze
a cold and lonely final stare,
and I her dear beloved son
just standing there,
just standing there.
I'm left with only shadows
and whispers in my mind,
as though it never happened
a stage of pantomimes.
A faded mist uncaptured
has evaporated all too quick,
like fruit attacked by fire blight
and I the striving stick.
Thought to be a stone at last
is now a simple ball of clay,
the meaning of my life
now washed away.
Washed away.
What now I sigh with fading eyes
I search for new beginnings,
but deep inside the voice will chide
Thus begins the ending.
Thus begins the ending.
So shall I be honest
I was modest
You took it for granted
I have a strong sense of being abandoned
I hope you know I hate to see you
Because every time I do I’m reminded how much I really love you
And I’ve never doubted that you knew
And by the way when you asked if I would be ok
I answered with a lie
Guess what it hurt even more when you said goodbye
I asked did you bother to ask yourself why
This has been a most exciting roller-coaster ride
Some of these words are far from literal
But I believe you should consider them all
Your just a customer and you pay with a piece of yourself
I think you should start thinking instead of drinking
And I’m more honest
So every time you think about crying
I’ll just hope to be dying
So would you rather me be lying
Because I’m exceptional at that too
And ever night I lie alone
Motionless just hoping I can donate myself to heaven
You never knew its been seven years
This tale never nears the end just a new beginning
So I’ll be winning while sinning
I bet this song will leave you grinning
Tomorrow is another word for a new beginning
I’ve had the best and worst of them with you
I hope you know
I bet you never knew
And even after it was through you stilled signed “I heart you”
So I’m wondering did you feel inclined to bind my heart
So baby I’m trying to be brief but I held this in for too long
This is pay back in the form of a song
Yes, I think you did me wrong
How’s that for honesty and modesty is up the creek with out a paddle
So saddle up I’m going to ride this wave of guilt all night
I know much more than you could believe
You don’t have the option to leave
Please believe, Please , Please believe
So if you can’t manage this then cease my heart before you leave
I hope you hold no belief in grief
Because I do and this won’t be brief
I hold many beliefs
I’ve got an ace up my sleeve
On second thought just leave
I have no need to torture myself with your wealth of charming pantomimes
I’ll be fine
Be strong just leave
I’ll be strong please believe
Another darken fairy tale I shall weave
Be strong just leave and I will grieve
thru the middle of June
when the fireflies swoon
and the warmth of the day lingers on
the late dusk pantomimes
with the moon as it climbs
and the curtains of daylight are drawn
the dance of the leaves
on warm summer eves
isn't lost on the creatures of dark
but a lightning bug's dance
is for naught but romance
as its love life depends on a spark
up-and-down through the night
they waltz curves with their light
making sure that their rhythm's just SO
weaving reeds in tall grasses
blinking soft-lighted passes
at the prospects now drawn to their glow
but other "bright" creatures
are charmed by the features
these shimmering lightning bug lovers
and as parents direct them
their children collect them
in jars with holes punched in the covers
the endgame of their duty
would seem to be beauty
those dazzling scintillations, to see
and while most admire
insect glimmer and fire
when finished, not all set them free
you see …
some squash them with fingers
while that glowing stuff lingers
so they write with it, words, or their name
they continue this act
hence learning, in fact
to kill without conscience … or blame
now though it might seem
that this childhood scheme
only ends a few creatures that crawl
that lesson will impeach
the one we should teach
that ALL life is precious, no matter …
how small.