I will not repeat myself in a song
Or among rumbles, crinkles, or prolong
My Tuesday remaining mostly cloudy
I am wet beyond pants and a hoodie
I give anyone the ear from the stage
Because I cannot tell which path is phage
M-y
A-rticulation
R-emains:
Y-ou
A-re
N-ow
N-othing
B-ut
A-nother
N-ew
A-wesome
D-oer,
E-specially
R-egarding
A-dvocacy
©bfa051125
Monocrostic (Birthday of Mary Ann V. Banadera)
Bravo, hurrah!
He play by notes
Always by heart.
He play the song
Play like he breathe
Super rich tune.
Great performance
Makes the roof down
Balm for the soul.
The first second
Mesmerize all
Bellissimo!
"Limerick - Syllables 12,12,8,8,12" ~By Poet~
Stevie Wonder.
Blinded after birth by a hospital blunder.
At three he played music with pots and pans.
Self taught piano, at nine he played to young fans.
Stevie Wonder decided to bet Tiger Woods
To play golf at a golf club in their neighborhoods
Tiger, he chose where they would play.
Stevie would choose the time of day.
Stevie chose midnight. He won and went home with the goods.
At 13 he was the youngest solo artist ever to top the charts.
Being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, warmed hearts.
He won a Grammy for "That's What Friends Are For"
Stevie Wonder, an incredible performer has fans galore.
roses at my feet
roaring crowds filling the hall
luminous actress.
Busker
doesn't know chords
fakes it
“It's gettin' hard to please 'em
You start to feel the rub
You know it isn't easy
Well, welcome to the club
Come on and join us in the club.”
– Joe Walsh
The marquee glares with brilliant light.
A talent takes stage to delight.
Too many hours, too long the show
Painful pressure in too hot glow.
How much more can they surely take
before they crumble and then break?
They are ever pressured for more
and always seem stressed to the core.
What more is left after they give
memories for fans to relive?
Choking on their artistic fame,
each breath becomes a burning flame.
Fraught with fear of losing the edge.
closer and closer they get to the ledge,
Woefully, they bend, twist, and crack;
pushed too far to ever come back.
Might 27 be given
to those depressively driven?
Another club’s members alive;
the ones who struggle, yet survive.
She was the last to board the jetliner
And had to stand forlorn
As they found a seat for her.
Clutching a fat paperback
With no aide nor lackey in sight
She was flying to keep her date
With the film maker for a filming
And I was leaving my family and land
To keep my job ten thousand miles from home.
She would be feted and pampered for sure
A cine star or starlet in limelight
The richest in the new order of times.
We landed at the big city airport
Came down the stairs and stood
In the shade of the huge plane.
Our eyes met, a casual moment
Of shared thoughts and taking notes.
Each engulfed in concerns our own
What a handsome actor you are,
You have very beautiful eyes.
Your slim good-looking stature,
The many roles you caressed with excellence.
The leading women that were blessed to act with you,
I wished to be an actress at one time.
Happily married with children,
How nice to see you act on screen.
And to become one of the great performers of the century,
I would wish to be the Marlene Dietrich of your life.
Just discovered you one day,
The magic of acting exists.
God blesses us with good role models,
I wish I could stand in line for your autograph and shake your strong hands.
I like you in your cowboy suit and hat,
May God bless you and yours.
Author:Gwen von Erlach Schutz
If everything is all right
Then there is not going to be a fight
Thoughts from those wearing tights
And arms showing might
A huge net down there
Going through the air
Grabbing a swinging bar
Being cool acting like a star
Everything seems so simple
Just smile show the dimple
It is only a trick put on
An illusion, an innocent con
With feats not having a room for erring
Entertaining audiences by scaring
Based on trust
No room for fuss
It is a spectacle that is cool
Wondering who’s a fool
Under the big top
Where the action never is supposed to stop
A wild and crazy thing
Fascinating Presidents and Kings
Under the spot light
No one can fight
If done right
Then the thrill is ‘out of sight’
Take this advice
At any price
Comradely is not throwing dice
It is the warm trusting feeling that is nice
Next time when requested to do a dare
Make sure it is done not only with flair
But enough care
Giving a reason for the patron’s amazement stare
Enjoying their time attending the amusement fair
I believe in futures,
God's miracles guest.
The friendship with relatives and friends,
Sometimes I dream of having a boyfriend and husband again.
I used to dream of becoming a performer,
Singing a solo, I sang the song "Wiseman Say".
The seniors in the dinning-hall all clapped,
We are having an Elvis Social for Valentine"s Day.
I have had a very successful retirement,
Accomplished as an artist and poet.
I used to cook for my father Dr. Wolf,
Invited my parents to lunch and dinner.
They really liked that,
I like thinking about these times .
My younger sister and her children come to visit with their father.
I enjoy these times very much.
I used to think about the sisters performing together,
Father taught us a love for music.
We are very blessed to have these friendships,
I thank God for guesting.
Author:Gwen von Erlach Schutz
You've been dead for the same amount of time that you lived, forty-two years.
You were loved and your death devastated each and every one of your peers.
You didn't perform in all fifty states, one state that you missed was Montana.
You performed your last concert on June 26, 1977 in the state of Indiana.
Two of your hit songs were 'All Shook Up' and 'Hound Dog'.
You had great taste in motorcycles, you sure did love Hogs.
You had a wonderful life but not a life that was long.
When doctors constantly prescribed those pills, it was wrong.
You loved to give away Cadillacs, you truly had a heart of gold.
It was very sad to lose you when you were only 42 years old.
One of your friends saw you putting a hole in your foot with a drill.
When he asked you why, you said you were doing it to get more pills.
When you died on August 16, 1977, every one of your fans were in tears.
You've been dead for the same amount of time that you lived, forty-two years.
[Dedicated to Elvis A. Presley (1935-1977) who died on August 16, 1977.]
You are angst poetry
played on the strings
of an untuned guitar
A smokers cough cord
that grinds like grit in a turbine
Clumsy fingers that slip
ungracefully on the flimsy stretched nylon
A coffee percolating flow
of words I do not know
A language of sophisticated agony
the core of your existence
is wretched from your gut
through the microphone
when my sense are filled with the crudity of your song,
I can feel the pain,
more than words,
you are the poetry that you perform
A silent stage ignored by the crowd, their murmured voices building loud.
As dust flakes meanders the dimmed light, witnesses to forthcoming delight
This silent rain that glints the scene, as it falls from above to land between
Artist and pundit, the real and magic. Masking the twins comedy and tragic.
The lights fade down a spotlight appears, delight is released, pent up for years.
Orchestra applauded they set the tone, the heartfelt drum a brassy trombone.
Wind section, brass, drums and strings, a wizards touch the conductor brings.
Actors, dancers enhance the scenes, through tears, songs and laughter’s screams.
The finale call the deserved bows are won, with memories flared as songs re sung.
Writers, directors relive their work reborn, while awaiting the critic’s chilly morn.
The front of house crews clear and prepare, like shadows you forget they are always there
Setting the theatre to rally the cause, all served with a smile but never applause.
And the back stage warriors in the wings and flies that run the show dressed in disguise.
Each and all a performer in all they do and appear, rarely rewarded with a, “thank you dear.”
constant performer
made life her permanent stage
show has been cancelled
©260320122215
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