No channel skipping ..no flannel...it was so gripping…hearts melt…Pant's ripping svelte pelt and belt..stripping and whipping..the fab never drab Rishab lab..was it real..felt like I was tripping… no pipping..surreal cartwheel flipping..
Some verse about the Panto Pant curse…does traverse…like a hearse….won’t reimburse..adverse bowlers terse..things getting worse…reputations nurse…Rishab flash panache smash and grab..rehearse that ramp reverse..in his own homegrown perverse.. with only himself will converse..no fretting..go getting…record setting universe..
Now has outshone and outdone..shoves show pony Dhoni.. as the Indian man alright talisman with the gloves everybody loves with the most tons..holy moly..more three figures scores on England tours than the folklore of before..Sunny and Kohli..
Records splattered shattered..gallivanting Pant parade..cascade and cavalcade …flattered .. Rishab paddled..bowlers addled and raddled..skedaddled
Ignore any naysayer…prime sublime Pantomimes…haymaker…cocktail shaker…p**s taker…tik tok peacocker..run for fun maker…cool cat with the bat..almost indecent crimes..the Indian’s best test player and slayer of recent times..
oh
Sal saw sea
beyond the seesaw
but
did her fish suit swimming
in a flashy swimsuit
Doug, her dog
at the pantomime
groans a panting moan
then
Sal, fish and Doug
did a selfie on her phone
mute ‘triloquist
and talking mime
went on a date
for the first time
he threw her voice
under the bus
you should have watched
the way she cussed
she shut him down
with signs that hurt
when slipped his hand
beneath her shirt
but then he gave
her new white gloves
and pantomimed
undying love
now she’s his doll
he needs no strings
unloosed his tongue
and now he sings
How lowly do the heavens hang?
This great Earth begins at your feet.
The sound of church bells that just rang.
Falling in love when eyes first meet!
The pantomime of that one love.
A born aspect of your being.
Like the mating dance of the dove.
You're the mirror that love's seeing!
date: 4/22/22
The performance expresses meaning through gesture,
gentle stories and tales without words to venture.
White washed face and biggish eyes,
timing and theatrical endurance wise.
Pointing towards the human sensitive struggle,
how to keep the soul, mind and heart to juggle.
Like the fool of tarot card and number zero,
through owns life journey ever present hero.
Reflections from people driven by needs and urges,
that fallen into some deprivation as it emerges.
Indication of looking before leaping,
too much emphasis on lustrous reaping.
Excitement and spontaneous so very fickle,
no true commitments rather a sour pickle.
Taken to many steps ahead and topple,
trying to be the best being a role model.
Invisible violin played as message blunt,
when appointed drama becomes too bund.
Simple expressions to simple act,
truth speaks further then the fact.
long, to aspire
love drops from the sun
to live
or come undone
aimless ways of the sea
us butterflies,
effortlessly in the breeze
floating through days
and hidden in restless nights
attuned to the way
handwritten notes
a swallowed shrill, to dear
washed away from the fear
and we linger in the moments
as they pass
wandering the sounds of the past
we now the flowers
bowing our heads
in an unadorned rain
ruined amongst the ruins
~
knowing life
will be there again
summer pantomime
every lifeform in its place
~ the curtain rising
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on May 31, 2020
fall
colored
tapestry
trees undress
one leaf at a time
east winds disperse the stress
dancing moves of a pantomime
seductively I must confess
stirs my muse already drawn to rhyme
while in the fall colored tapestry
a pageantry the trees undress
one leaf at a time
AP: 3rd place 2020
Submitted on November 5, 2018 for contest NOVEMBER 2018 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Originally posted on October 19, 2018
A long running pantomime was coming to an end of its successful showing. Once more one of the radio DJs asked if anyone had appeared in a pantomime. Then she asked if anyone wanted to appear in one, and if they did, what character would they like to be. The DJ had herself appeared in several pantomimes apparently and once she was Dick Whittington. I can never understand why ladies play boys parts, and men play women’s parts in pantomimes but it’s all good fun, isn’t it? I sent her this poem on her Facebook page.
If I could be in a pantomime
By The new mad Author
29-1-16
If I could be in a pantomime.
I’d be Dick Whittington’s cat.
Because I’d be covered up.
So not be recognised as that.
There is another reason.
I expect you know.
As would get lots of praise.
From that Dick Whittington you know.
Of course I would purr a lot.
If a certain Dick Whittington I had got.
The name I’m not allowed to tell.
Glad I did not choose William Tell.
A Purr-fect poem got not a whisker of a reply Me-ow.
My wife and I had words but I never got to use mine
Her verbal diarrhea supersedes mine every time
An incessant stream
I wanted to scream
It was like starring in my own pantomime
Some people say that
life is just a pantomime
oh no it isn't
Check into the Hotel Pantomime
Hospitality cloaked; words a crime
Dressed with gestures, emotions to prime
Tap your bellhop, then gleefully toss him a dime
Forthwith, the receptionist summon with a curt bell chime
After checking in, dance through the lobby in double-time
Flag down the elevator operator with a nod sublime
Furrowed brow, nervously fidgeting each floor climb
Then spring from the elevator and down the hall serpentine
Reaching the room, cautiously open the door catching a stime
Brashly throw back the curtains it's noontime
Cheerfully grab a cup, stove kettle is whistling teatime
Quietly trapse through the corridors saluting guests inbetween time
At nine, chortle to restaurant, signal hostess to check your suppertime
Finished, hustle to your room; meticulously undress for bedtime
Once again I ask myself to suffer,
sifting through so many words,
there's so much I want to say.
Perhaps afraid to stand before you,
naked to your judgment,
exposing every nerve and every weakness
in a pantomime.
I wouldn't know what to do
with my strength anyway.
The deafening silence is broken
by the annoying sound of pain
as it goes away.
You are the voice,
and without your words,
my page lies empty.
I've been struggling with a phrase or two,
three nights passed without a gift.
No secrets falling from my lips.
No lover's knot of rhyme or reason.
Too many words to choose from,
yet never enough to say how I feel.
Tomorrow suffering.
Enough of a battle today.
Think I'll rest my head awhile
and dream of pantomime,
surrendering words to you.