Puss cat had the zoomies
By the moon she sang.
The stars blazed like footlights
for a meow band set.
Mic held aloft in paws
she pranced atop a tree
and supped a bowl of whiskey
Her voice was tiddly woo.
Snowy owls played gentle games
with backing choirs of mice
who twanged the golden whiskers
of that punk, feline lead.
Seven pearls robbed
Ceramic contrivances replete
with squatter rights
entombing deep necrosis
for an Oscar appearance
staged and blanched
choreographed photoshoppery
of Cheshire cats
faux poses and grins
for psychedelic strobes
beneath neon footlights
and synchronised clatter
of frenzied palms
rhythmic and rigid
Politburo manoeuvres.
You had to be there. Literally, there.
Just hearing it removes the third dimension.
Necessity's the mother of invention?
Idea-whose-time-has-come must be the père.
But how can you replace the footlights' glare,
the acrobats' contrived, but visceral, tension?
You can't. So much is lost in a mere mention,
that wings its way to us through colourless air.
They once were princes. Now reduced to strugglers.
What use is wireless to ventriloquists?
Where did their future go? There are no answers.
The dole can never compensate the jugglers,
or anyone whose acumen consists
in sleight of hand - snake charmers or tap dancers.
There's nothing left of Autumn but the leaves
They swirl and scatter, meet, then disengage
The moon shines silver footlights in the sheaves,
transforms the marble court into a stage
She draws the curtains when she starts to feel
there's nothing left of Autumn but the leaves
and when they part, the scene she sees seems real
as do the silent dancers she perceives
A clever wind plays fiddle in the eaves,
while brittle ballerina's pirouette
There's nothing left of Autumn... but the leaves
still dance for her tonight, in silhouette
The figures in the cast are what she chose,
those figments of the past her mind retrieves
and when the show goes dark at last, she knows
there's nothing left of Autumn but the leaves
The aroma of mellow gardenias, the dance of a ballerina,
the sound of an Italian concertina
Purple, shaded, toe shoes that glide across a stage with
footlights and an applause of praise.
Tender thoughts to remember, in winter, Spring or even
a blustery, Midwest September.
Birthdays that my parents bought me corsages for, and
many relatives with presents at the door.
Birthday dinners on ivory and gold linen with candle lights,
such elegance.leaves, my soul, sparkling bright.
Decades later, I recall, my little daughter, Maria born three
days prior to my birthday, was the most blessed gift from
God~overall!
I may be eight-five today, but I still am full of life and to plan
to play, full-out, till God calls me home on my final day.
3/13/2023
Once the curtain is down
All lights then turn to dim
Music slowly trails off
As the self bows back in
Moments of reflection
Memory becomes faint
When the thrill has left you
And you wipe off the paint
You think of what it was
That you have then just done
Knowing all it has meant
Amazed if you had fun
You aren't even quite sure
If you'll keep going on
In search of more footlights
To brighten your soul song
81 Words Rhyme 4/20/22
He saw the world in burlesque,
light dancing upon the stage
The great blue fanning ocean
and rainbow colored pastie orbs
Caught between the music and the
shadow of the extreme
The curtain falling deftly marking
the beginning and the end
His dreams left to wander
search the darkness for a home
To strip off their makeup and surrender
what tomorrow will disdain
Where back in the footlights all chaos
and disorder will bawdily remask
Teasing what fantasy hides in fear
—as an Angel sheds its wings
(The New Room: November, 2021)
Behind the walls
of his fantasy
an actor played his role
dishonest in death
dishonest in life
face like ashen coal
Taking the stage
left, center, and right
soliloquy to fawn
each pleading rehearsed
all truth in reverse
—footlights dark and gone
(Dreamsleep: Octopber, 2021)
Leaves of burnished gold take flight
Whirling spirals, with childish delight
A final pirouette without a sound
Before they sadly hit the ground
Their dance is done, they take their place
Piously accepting autumn,with simple grace
Wearing faded colors of garnet, gold and green
They serenely exit, from the final scene
The footlights diminished for another year
Until the choreographer of Spring, faithfully reappears
Leaves will emerge in sunshine and bathe in the rain
A glorious celebration for the dance to begin again
A starlet on stage, her fawning shrine
Footlights dimmed ~ so too the shine
Is standing at the footlights, with
a crowd, unknown and that you
cannot see!
With smoke billowing to the ceiling.
You share your Funny Stories
with total strangers.
Suddenly, transformation.
They love your jokes instantly.
Only, they were not jokes.
I was totally sharing me.
It's akin to falling in love.
You absolutely are fearless!
You just let go!
Then you and the audience
become one in festive fun.
November 22, 2019
***Panagiota~ retired stand-up
Comedian:Chicago and S.F.
Credits to my comedy teachers:
Tom Dressen- Comedian;opening act for Sinatra
Tim Reed-" WKRP in Cincinnati"***
Woefully, the footlights dim,
the magic fades—the chorus grim
A curtain falls as memory fades,
the ending near—one last charade
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2019)
Heart Sutra
The moonlight, the firelight,
the scent of your cologne.
Enchanting, oh!
Our toes in amorous games
do play, shadow dancing.
The flames act as our footlights
and so......
As the first frost descends on
the one last, California rose.
Such unspeakable solace in my
intimate desire grows.
I lean on the tartan plaid coverlet
to kiss that Olympian nose.
Then...place my velvet-ribboned
pony tailed head, so gratefully upon
your crescent chest.
Just to hear the wind chimes of your
heart.
We, both so magically magnificent
and masterpieces of God's finest art.
Always together and never apart!
Your forever~
Panagiota
Actors All
by Odin Roark
To fool
Or be fooled
Innate competition for
Life’s continuance sweepstakes
Real life’s honesty
Knows survival of the fittest
Relies on impression’s armament
One’s tightly woven costume of persuasion
Ever ready to defend strategy’s patience
Curtains rise
Settings come alive
Footlights’ massage
Spotlights’ invite
As staging presents
Seduction’s heroes and heroines
Intermission
The persuaders
And persuaded
Take respite
As presentation’s set-up and conflict
Prepares regroupings
Making ready the resolve
Closing curtain
Applause fades
Marquee goes temporarily dark
But just as the next opening
Opts to repeat tried and proven choices
Whether performer
Or audience
The art of persuasion
Continues to evolve
Gradually
Acting’s duality of purpose
Will fade-out separation’s proscenium arch
Opting to invite spectators on stage
Where applause and bows will become one
Where separate identity will cross over
Forging audience and players as one
Making the we/them question moot
Yes
The Bard was right
Actors all
Fantasy in a red gown
Face as beautiful as dawn
Figure to make men weep
Filling the Met with my voice
Feeling the music soar
Finding high C with ease
Flowing, soaring, caressing
Fascinating the audience
Fabulous final aria
Footlights up, flowers, curtain calls
Oh..to sing at the Metropolitan Opera
For the Fantasy Character contest...
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