The team of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein displayed prowess.
It seemed everything they produced would be a success.
There was triumph for some Broadway shows nobody could deny.
They included “Oklahoma”, “State Fair”, and “The King and I”.
Two more melodious plays that were absolutely terrific
were the widely-heralded musicals “Carousel” and “South Pacific”.
Along came an attempt based on John Steinbeck’s novel “Sweet Thursday”.
The plot was set in the California town of Monterey.
“Pipe Dream” opened on Broadway in 1955.
Many also expected this production to thrive.
Despite receiving nine Tony Award nominations,
for this musical, the critics had some reservations.
Problems resulted, and the show was a financial flop.
After only about seven months, they decided to close up shop.
However, some renewed interest has evolved into a revival.
It looks as if this show may yet experience survival.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Robert Pettit
Historical
Categories:
oscar hammerstein, business, history, music,
Form: Rhyme
No Maria -
when a Bernstein motif lingers.
No rosary beads -
they'll simply slip
through bourbon-stained fingers.
God carved the seven continents,
with skillful guise,
and Puccini cries.
Adam's rib was imminent
when his chest burst splinters
into a scorned dodger's eyes.
No Turandot tonight, please -
Father willed him this disease;
a cancerous curse
Ben's learned to despise.
No Rodgers -
when Oscar Hammerstein is dead.
No hammered halos -
they'll merely desecrate
the madman’s head.
Ben abandoned rued religion,
with toxic breath -
as Mimi wept.
Noah made a revision,
as the pairs filed two by two,
and into his mouth they crept.
No La Boheme, does he dote -
Mother’s cocktail glass
cuts his throat.
A souvenir,
from his childhood,
he’s kept.
No Sondheim -
when one loathes another's company.
No steel wool ragcloths -
to dry the bloodshot eyes of thee.
He minded the duet’s jargon
endorsing the macabre,
and Calaf sobbed.
Judas rethought the bargain,
knowing the silver pieces
wouldn’t save the soul he robbed.
A lost weekend sates Ben's day -
two severed hands on his chest,
he’ll lay; never feeling
a heart
that once throbbed.
Categories:
oscar hammerstein, on writing and words
Form: Rhyme