Long Final curtain Poems

Joe: "It's 9 a.m., here in Gotham and my partner, Mike and I, have been here since 7 a.m., and we also passed a cow coming over here!"
Mike: "That was no cow sir just a...

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Was it a cruel twist of fate?
Sneering, laughing chance?
Perhaps something I ate?
A bad bout of happenstance?

It wrenched and tore at my gut,
A sickening, sober, foreboding sign.
Wretched chance it was not,
This time was by insidious design.

The...

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AS A KID AND BEYOND

did I ever wonder?
what my upbringing brought for me;
and did it disappoint
or just bring feelings to resurface,
but never sensitivities 
of deep down and personal,
and did I really care
of what there was...

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POTD 21 November 2017

So professional in his lies - So ruthless in his ambition
Feeding lies to the simple folk - convincing in his deception
Telling them they live on toxic farm land - succeeds in striking...

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I'm sorry momma.
I'm sorry father.
I couldn't be the man you raised.
You instilled me with morals and values,
from which I chose to stray.
I chose to leave those college days,
just to be on the streets stuck in...

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Bygone Days
Written: By Tom Wright
4/3/2007

Remember the slogan
 “Haskell is moving, are you pushing?

The railroad depot stands no more
In the spot it occupied for so long.
Instead in it’s space, a Homeland store,
But in my memory it...

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"I moved through the Quarter
as if through a stage-set to an opera
which, having finished its run,
might be struck at any moment."
      John Wray, Canaan's Tongue

I move through this post-selection Quarter
as...

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Happy two thousand twenty fourth  birthday Autumn - September twenty second

But first etymological climatological meteorological esoterica:

The word autumn (/'??t?m/) is derived from Latin autumnus, archaic auctumnus, possibly from the ancient Etruscan root autu-and has...

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Alfie was the first son of a billionaire
Who bought a golden cradle for his son and heir
There was no expense that daddy wouldn’t spare
And perforated ping pong balls didn’t feature there

On Alfie’s one year birthday...

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In the heart of the night, next to the unmoved clock,
She lies, with the pillow—a saline lake of pagan scents,
Mourning something that was never spoken.
Prisoner in the castle of shadows, where darkness
Bearer of chaos, stretches...

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Solitary rituals of mourning the write way, right?

Papa... bless his (your) heart and soul,
impossible mission your second born
sole male heir cingularly communicates,
viz his avocational crafted poem, since
written words, mine metier
write most pained words

with great difficulty,...

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I was a famous, American actress, who adored performing for live audiences,
In stage plays, both modern and classic, like velvet time, which often rushes.

Rose acclaim filled long, chaotic days, of colorful masquerades and fulfillment,
Like Sleeping...

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Here's a story poem about a girl's tragic descent, imbued with dark imagery:
A Broken Doll's Lament
Tiny fingers, a gap in the wood, a scene etched in fright,
A scream ripped from silence, shattering the night.
Mother, a...

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Have you ever listened to the silence?
Alone in the giant trees
Have you ever experienced your soul?
Being totally at ease
Have you ever stood atop a volcano?
Felt its trembling power
Ever smelled the sulfur boiling in the pits
Man...

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When you were young they used to say "youth is on your side", 
But,  now I can look back and I know,  they lied,  they lied,  they lied. 

When you get...

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Moon flower

You lay on white cotton sheets with the hospital logo imprinted
on the cloth and on the fabric of your life talcum powder for
your bed sores anorexic washed out gastric spittle dribbling
from ulcerous mouth facing...

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Dedicated in memory of Mr Dangerfield, Rodney.
He was a comic few will ever forget.
He is most known probably for his classic routine;
"I Don't Get No Respect.
When I was born the doctor delivered to my parents...

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Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath 
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered...

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My final curtain call has come, 
The stage beckons one last bow. 
I’ll die in that electric chair, 
Twenty four hours from now. 

So many thoughts pour through my mind, 
Of Hell and eternity. 
Can...

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My epitaph writ large...
courtesy third person singular.

Mise en scène pour décès
pardon his feeble attempt at French,
a unilingual English language
quibbling, and scribbling mensch
strongly advises applying
left handed monkey wrench,
which custom designed tool
assigned impossible mission
to discern sense and...

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What if I could tell you all the pain you put me through?
Would you tell me what I wanted to hear, for me, could you be true?

What if you hadn’t cheated, would we be together...

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T0 Spencer Snyder, age 80

		Curtain Call    
He signed you for a starring role, with no time to rehearse,
None had played the part before, so no-one better or worse,
Been a long run and...

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When the final curtain softly descends, and the echoes of my days retreat,
I want to whisper to the wind that all my life, I was a bride betrothed to amazement,
In the silent embrace of dawn's...

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Listen! Here come the horses,
War machines, a myriad of forces!

'Whitewash', the white horse, is first,
Those deceptive words rehearsed.
Peace as a pretense to conquer,
Glossy until he grows stronger.

'Butcher', the red horse, unleashed,
Civil unrest and sword unsheathed.
Laying...

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first may this day find you all well and safe
I am sorry that I have not responded to reviews
I know I am late once again
for those who know me I don't forget
and I will try...

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