Long Director Poems
Long Director Poems. Below are the most popular long Director by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Director poems by poem length and keyword.
In California, in the year nineteen thirty-nine,
at Culver City, a movie studio was fine.
Metro Goldwyn Mayer was the largest company.
They produced the best motion pictures people could see.
Early in the year, they would make a large announcement.
A musical would be their next big accomplishment.
Based after L. Frank Baum’s turn-of-the-century tale,
president Louis B. Mayer hoped it would not fail.
Victor Fleming accepted the role as director.
Many problems on the set made him a corrector.
He would soon tell Mr. Mayer what was up ahead.
This is what he said to MGM’s studio head:
“Well Mr. Mayer, we have to tote a heavy load,
if we’re to start them following the yellow brick road.
Every day, it seems we always have a new hold up.
We ran into some problems with that silver makeup.
Tin man Buddy Ebsen almost died the other day.
We had to get him to the hospital right away.
We are way behind schedule. Get somebody new.
Find that actor Jack Haley; it looks like he will do!”
There was still much work to do to accomplish it all.
They still had to find more people less than four feet tall.
Actress Shirley Temple was number one choice to call.
In getting her to play the lead, there was soon a stall.
Louis B. Mayer made this summation of it all:
“Fox Studios will not let her out of her contract.
The men in charge there do not want us making contact.
So as long as those bums will not let us have Shirley,
we will need a girl to play this part of Dorothy.”
To be continued
Many nasty mean online reviews
This ballerina has not paid her dues
Don’t bother the drive to Syracuse
Seeing this performance, you will lose
The actors have missed many cues
This circus simply does not have a muse
The seats were stiffer than most church pews
Many performers had ugly dirty shoes
You can ask many critic gurus
I will bring them in by three’s and two’s
This ballet did nothing but confuse
Most of the company had no clues
Did the director have a silly muse?
Brittle scenery needed better glues
Lights went out due to a faulty fuse
This is one of my better interviews
You can run
But there’s no hiding from yourself.
Done is done.
Can’t put your soul upon a shelf.
Put your heart inside a box
It just keeps breaking all the locks
And getting free. There’s no mystery…
You can cry.
It doesn’t matter what they say.
Don’t know why
But does it matter anyway?
As the walls come tumbling down
In slow motion, with no sound
It all looks so darned profound
In the movies.
You can fight.
Doesn’t guarantee a win.
Is it right
Or just an ordinary sin?
Forge your chain-mail link by link
And make certain you will sink
Into the sea. There no mystery…
We complain
Stifled by our every choice.
Yet it’s plain
We love the sound of our own voice.
All those noises in your head
All those voices that you dread
It’s just the script nobody read
In the movies…
There’s no digital effects
That’ll clean up every mess.
No director yelling, “Cut! Let’s try again.”
We must all do our own stunts.
And we can only do it once.
But we’re no actors. We’re just ordinary men…
So, look around.
You can see it everywhere.
It’s not profound
Though, more or less, we’re unaware.
It’s the land of make believe
Meant to trap and to deceive
The unwary and naïve
In the movies…
Die Maske des Bösen (“The Mask of Evil”)
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A Japanese woodcarving hangs on my wall—
the mask of an ancient demon, limned with golden lacquer.
Not unsympathetically, I observe
the forehead’s bulging veins,
the tremendous strain
such malevolence requires.
***
Original German text:
Die Maske des Bösen
An meiner Wand hängt ein japanisches Holzwerk
Maske eines bösen Dämons, bemalt mit Goldlack.
Mitfühlend sehe ich
Die geschwollenen Stirnadern, andeutend
Wie anstrengend es ist, böse zu sein.
Bertolt Brecht [1898-1956] was a major German poet, playwright, novelist, humorist, essayist, theater director and songwriter. Brecht fled Germany in 1933, when Hitler assumed power. A number of Brecht's poems were written from the perspective of a man who sees his country becoming increasingly fascist, xenophobic and militaristic. Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, German, translation, Holocaust, poem, war, World War II, Japanese, carving, mask, symbolism, demon, evil, malevolence, sympathy, compassion, understanding, feeling, forehead, veins, swollen, bulging, effort, strain, exhausting, concentration, suggest, suggesting, suggestive, demonstrating, revealing, showing, wall, gold, golden, lacquer, paint, woodwork, totem, malice, hate, hatred, enmity, spite, spitefulness, animosity, anger, maliciousness, malignancy, venom, spleen, viciousness
I need to know
if you have seen
or heard anything from me
or about me
that would cause you to hesitate
to hire me full-time
for the next sex worker
and spiritual director
and financial co-investor
position
Opening up
on your personal
and political empowerment team.
I would also like to know
if you have seen and heard,
tasted and smelled,
felt and touched
anything positive
compelling
engaging about me
That would discourage you
from firing me
from my current part-time position
enabling your fears of losing me
to some better
bigger
more powerful,
possibly even somewhat more enlightened
and less angry,
narcissist.
Confused
Eternal God showed me a private revelation
A baby angel appeared to me in my room
Saw me standing and looking at him
He said to “Tell the priest that the babies are safe in heaven
God wants to give women
Cance [On the left ear]
Choice [On the right ear]
To save themselves”
What am I supposed to do
Told my spiritual director
Till now, nothing is happening
Does Eternal God says that aborting is okay
When will Eternal God speak to me again
Well He does not provide audible voice
He’s very careful with what my Psychiatrist will tell me
He just reminded me that “Reverence is for the Righteous”
Respect is morally right
With my Father Christ and Mother Mary
Don’t know what to do
I CHOSE TO RUN
I’d always been an extrovert,
Performed on the amateur stage.
But now I thought the time had come
To turn another page.
Time to turn professional,
To shed off inhibition.
So there I was in the darkened wings,
Awaiting my audition.
“Next,” the director shouted,
“We haven’t got all day,”
And that was when I lost my nerve
And turned and ran away.
Looking back I wonder
How my life would have been
If I had walked out on that stage
And acted out my scene.
By now I’d be a household name,
Famous near and far.
Everywhere my name in lights,
A stage and movie star,
Posing for selfies with my fans,
Signing autographs galore.
Going through a third divorce,
The press camped at my door
But, of course, that’s all a pipe dream,
Because I chose to run.
Like Dolly I’m working nine to five
And I’m still with wife number one
26th October 2022
I chose to run, but if I'd stayed things would have been like poetry contest
Sponsor - Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Where is William Earl Davis?
He was one of my best friends growing up
From first grade to twelve grade
Where are you William Earl?
You whom nickname was Merle
Pray you’re alive and doing well
Where are you William Earl Davis?
Your works, you craft so courageous
This is not a web
Not natural, not satin nor silk
Where are you
William Earl?
He’s my brethren, I often wonder-wondering
How you are, where you are
Web William Earl Davis
Are you yet famous
Are you known you left for New York?
Creative individual yes you knew/know your craft
You were Head, the Director of Lafern Williams Center
In Omaha, Nebraska
Will if your alive Happy Birthday bro
We wrote many songs together
We were in ROTC too
We even tried to audition for Motown Records
But they were not accepting
So in your adult life you’re acting and directing
Where are you William Earl Davis?
Your works, you craft so courageous
This is not a web
Not natural, not satin nor silk
Where are you
William Earl?
He’s my brethren, I often wonder-wondering
How you are, where you are
Web William Earl Davis
Remember back in the day
We would role play
Draw and write comics too
It was you brother Phoenix
Whom got us (me) collecting comics
Where are you
William Earl?
He’s my brethren, I often wonder-wondering
How you are, where you are
Web William Earl Davis
So if you’re alive now you’ll just a few weeks left 65
Lastly again I will say Where are you?
William Earl?
He’s my brethren, I often wonder-wondering
How you are, where you are
Web William Earl Davis
I don’t have Facebook or any other social media
Don’t have your address or phone number
All I have are those memories
Of all those good times we’ve had
So hope you’re still a Play-Director
And all things with you are good no better
Happy Birthday
My friend my brother you’re courageous
Happy Birthday-William Earl Davis
12/03/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Under the vast sky, where stars tell their stories in whispers of light,
I wander through thoughts, seeking hidden meanings in the shadows of night,
Love knows no half measures, it's an ocean that never dries,
As long as the heart beats whole, and the butterflies in the stomach
Find shelter in the rustle of unspoken dreams,
I want to keep them, never let them fly away, to remain
Guides in the dance of life, unfolding under your gaze.
You, the director of my destiny's film, have awakened my soul
From deep silence, showing me that love can be immortal,
That we can live this ultimate sin of absolute happiness,
And in the light of stars that have not yet faded, a morning star is born,
Guiding our steps on the unknown path of eternity,
I would whisper again, come to my chest to be absorbed,
With my inert lips, waiting for the moment of the promised kiss.
Give me a moment of respite, for my steps are small from so much running,
Look at the dawn and the long horizon, where hopes are born,
With joy to reach your sweet arms,
I, to gently caress the trace of your steps in silence,
Now, on your path, I accompany you, between sunrise and sunset,
I will be with you, in every second that sifts through slowly, divinely,
And in this journey of our souls, we will always find
A corner of paradise in the glances that unite us, in the thrill that never fades.
Beginning to realize life isn't a movie, but I am the protagonist.
Only God is the director, and the one who builds the cast list.
Sometimes He rewrites the script without notice,
And shifts the scene to sharpen my focus.
There is no rehearsal in life, no second take,
No edits, no pause, just the choices I make.
The spotlight doesn't wait for me to gather my thoughts,
So i speak with conviction, ready or not.
This isn't Hollywood, I'm not here to pretend,
I'm here to become who I was meant to be in the end.
The ending may bring peace or hesitation, a moment filled with joy or desperation.
Life is not a movie, but it has a final destination.