Best Quarter Hour Poems

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...

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