Offstage Poems

Mercury's Requiem

There was a young man named Fred
(the tooth fairy lived in dread)
a wild flamboyant from afar
the spice island Zanzibar
a singer he'd been
and sang a good song
with four-octave range
in the band called Queen
tho' considered 'strange'
with plus four in the upper jaw
he had more teeth than most
once nicely depraved
now dead and gone
when he gave up the ghost
shuffled offstage his mortal coil
was no more than toast
finally went bust
of him it was said,
'Another one bites the crust!'

The Echo Returns Not

The stars dance across the sky
A nightly recital of spinning and whirling
They’re in the spotlight here
But I know they’re invisible to him
Playing hide-and-go-seek offstage
I scream his name to the cosmos
In some sort of harrowed cry
Or desolate plea for redress
It comes out raspy, choked
The faraway stars have no reply
The echo returns not
I’m left standing in the dark
Mourning his mindlessnesses
Bombarded by the silence

From Dusk To Dawn

A red sun, pooling like a drop of blood,
coagulates at the edge of darkness.
And the night flows like a shadow, a flood
black as pitch, inking a seamless starkness.


A gilded moon, like a pitted gold coin,
beams in the sky as a beacon of light.
And like swarms of flashing fireflies, stars join
quasars and pulsars, twinkling in the night.

Dawn frets like a nervous actor offstage
practicing, to introduce the sun.
And as a gossamer breeze turns the page,
morning shimmers, like a web, freshly spun.

And the sun rises, a golden balloon
afloat in the air like a songbird's tune.

Perfect Pirouettes

I've spotted my first snowflake of the year
dancing on a breeze; it swirled in the air.
Autumn's practically over, I fear;
Winter is coming, and we'd best prepare.

Dancing on a breeze, it swirled in the air;
performing perfect pirouettes and twirls.
With a fragile beauty beyond compare;
I watch the first flake as it spins and whirls.

Performing perfect pirouettes and twirls:
a snowflake dominates the center stage. 
I watch the first flake as it spins and whirls,
sensing others are waiting just offstage.

A snowflake dominates the center stage:
Autumn's practically over, I fear.
Sensing others are waiting just offstage;
I've spotted my first snowflakes of the year.

Autumn

November!  When the auburn autumn leaves
retard the tinkling brooks of Vallombrosa,
and kitchen chimneys draw the old ones closer:                         
when timid fieldmice nestle in the eaves
and oaken chests give up our longer sleeves,                             
and finer fabrics cede the game to grosser:
we close John Grisham, open Vargas LLosa:
Orion rises, and Arcturus grieves.
But sometimes there’s a gracious interlude.
Though winter waits offstage with all its lines
word-perfect, still a kind of summer shines.
The breeze feels older now, of muted mood,
not so disposed to boast its vital signs, 
inclined to amble through the golden vines. 

Sonnet composed: 10 November 2019   

New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest 2019

Sponsored by Emile Pinet

The Breath of Autumn

I feel the breath of Autumn cooling the night
when the stars shine bright.

Summer surrenders to the dying and dead
facing Fall with dread.

And Jack Frost waits impatiently just offstage
keen to turn the page.

Color creeping through the canopies of trees
ripples in the breeze.

Wild geese are in flight,
and in the moonlight
I feel the breath of Autumn cooling the night.

Suddenly Swans

Our Tall Duckling (original title)

Our daughter, always through her childhood,
at least a head above any other girl in her class,
stands somewhere offstage now 
with long lashes darkened by mascara
and with lips and cheeks painted pink.
She waits with other nervous pre-teens in her group
where I left them - acting silly and softly giggling
as many twelve-year-old girls grouped together are wont to do.

Adorable kindergarten-age girls are now on the stage,
tap-dancing out of sync to the tune of  “Stray Cat Strut.”
As their music fades, they prance away, stage-left.
Our Angela, strikingly tall in her white sparkling tutu
and angelic as her name implies, sets foot on the stage
as if leading the flock of other lovely daughters
of other proud parents.
We collectively hold our breath -  cameras ready -
as all the young girls converge in the center of the stage,
on ballerina tip-toes  and with graceful, fluttering arms,
suddenly swans!

April 12, 2019 Inspired by Maureen McGreavy's Suddenly Swans Contest

The Magician

Black Powder
---------------------------------------

He waits offstage, his posture tense,
his gaze locked on the audience -
his first in years.

He blots the sweat that wets his face,
then walks onstage and gets in place,
amidst their cheers.

In bowtie, vest and dinner tails,
he's dressed down to his fingernails.
His face is flushed.

His eyes close tight, his breathing slows,
beyond his sight, the tension grows
The house is hushed...

If he can pull from knurled old trunks,
the Magic that their world debunks,
he can pretend

(at least until the curtain rolls) 
it's still his show, and he controls
it in the end.

Illusion casts no lasting spell.
No, in conclusion, he's not well, 
so... shifting gears,

he lifts his hat to loud applause,
black powder sifting out like gauze...

and disappears... *


---------------------------------------

Caged Bird's Appeal

Because I am confined to a little cage
no one ascertains my songs offstage
When I can't spread my tethered wings
or when I can't accept the intricate things,
I soberly weep in my own cage

But you envisage it as a song
for,people are always wrong.
Performing songs for you for the ages,
May I know what' s my wage?
please let me free at least one day

I wanna see the colors of roaring skies;
and swing in branches of the trees
I wanna fly across the water falls
to eschew the human calls,
I wanna perform on the world's stage
because I am confined to a little cage

Kevin Spacey

Actor Kevin Spacey
Reputation’s racy
After his Netflix scandalous outrage
Most want to keep him offstage

Hopes and Dreams

God has hopes and dreams for us,
I dream of getting married to a handsome man again.

Dream of buying a beautiful cottage,
Living in the true north,

I hope to become a performer,
Used to play the piano for teas.

I even sang an Elvis song,
 For the dinning-hall unrehearsed,

My favorite neighbors applauded,
Liking my offstage performance.

I sang with the Mississauga churches,
My favorite was to sing with the folk music group.

We would practice during the week,
On stage on Sundays, very fulfilling and good company.

I was a back-up singer with the local church.
My son Erik was in the audience.

He used to bring me a Poinsetta at Christmas,
Kirk married Jenn and now they have beautiful children, Maya and Merrick.

Erik married Lisette and they had a beautiful Hawain Wedding,
Costa Rica was their chosen holiday.

We remember these good experiences,
God has blessed us and we should always have hopes and dreams.

Author Gwen von Erlach Schutz.

Emotional Clutter

So many long-lost friends have come and gone;
like merging shadows consumed by the Night,
while my heart pines for their extinguished light.
Early on, they shone as bright as the dawn,
staying awhile, till time's curtain was drawn:
then, stepping offstage, they slipped out of sight.

Like actors auditioning for a role;
each flame flared, yet soon began to sputter,
playacting became their bread and butter.
And yet, their warmth still lingers in my soul;
tethered to fragile feelings that time stole,
and reduced to emotional clutter.

From failed friendships, I've managed to save
treasured memories I'll take to my grave.

Omlet

"OMLET"
            or
      "The Taming Of A Screwball"
      cast of characters:
      Julius Caesar
      A Roman Teenaged Kid
      A Roman Guard
      Brutus
      A bunch of Caesars Girlfriends
      A bunch of Roman Senators
   
   Julius picked up the violin and looked at the
kid. ""Et playdimus youdimus?"" he asked.
   "Nonimus!" replied the kid. "Cousinimus Nero
playsimus."
   "Ahhhh," sighed Julius. "Prodigimus bratimus."
   Suddenly a guard ran in, waving his sword and
shouting, "Mightymus Ceasermus! Brutumus et comingus!"
   Just then Brutus comes in, followed by a bunch
of drunk senators. All of Caesars girl friends
run offstage screaming in terror.
   "Ahhhh--Friendimus Brutumus..."" Julius said,
putting his arm around Brutus' shoulder.
   Brutus took out a dagger and promptly
thrusted it up Caesars bellybutton.
   "Ahhhhhhh--Brutumus!"" Caesar repeated.
"Youdimus screwdimus meedimus."
                     curtain
                      (applause)

© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Last Dance

They waltz against the dark , offstage
Within a tearing pinch of light;
A pitch-black room …entrenched in rage
Was once the velvet cloth to skin,
Now ripped apart by hems of spite
As numbness dries low breaths, so thin

Frigid the steps…locked in a cage
Pale music on iced fingertips,
That dancing  goodbye twirled with age
When frozen love changed to chagrin.

Smell of lilacs, damp as old page
Bitter this

Organic Ecstasy

It had been a day full of miraculous detail.

Freezing rain played the ground like a kettle drum.

Trees snapped and flowers curtsied 
before engaging in a pas de deux 
with blades of grass on the stage 
of this summer eve.

Our erupting blazing star...

Sported a set of yellow barn doors sorely in need of a paint job;

Closed shut with a heavy metal rusty lock seeping a golden shade;

Upstaging the blue sky and creating its own distinct wash
to signal the break of day. 

A curvy curved river flowed naturally through 
the mountains into a water colored sunset.

The moon waited patiently offstage with bedroom eyes 
anxious to make her entrance.

And I,

Well - I just stood motionless,

Hoping to absorb it all;

Hoping to never take this planet for granted;

A non opiate 

I like to call

Organic Ecstasy. 

And not a sign of men’s hands anywhere in sight.


14~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne

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