Short Onstage Poems

My palette is empty
after over-busy school
and tense homework.

By the time dark night
staggers onstage, sleep is my 
longed-for, sexy muse.

I’m greedy for sweet, 
numb sleep or perhaps to dream
love-flushed fantasies....

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Listen to poem:

Encore
David J Walker

The Straight-Line life will
find a way to wind
its way in time

Save the savings they say
for a future day 

Save the savings for 
play days and dates in a future
unsecured

I am the today onstage
there will be no encore 
	and therefor

No tomorrow
	No yesterday
...

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A woman onstage second to none
Incredible in so many ways
With just a piano she shines like the sun
And lights those who hear with her rays 
This voice that excites all the senses
What a treasure exists in her phrase
If I had my choice I would live in that voice
Until the moment I'm called from my days...

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Come home soon, I miss you much
I long for you, to feel your touch
Inside my heart, with you engage
When standing side by side onstage
I glance real quick to watch you sing
You're in my ears, I'm listening 
To only you, your voice so sweet
You're all I want to hear, repeat :II...

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New life comes
with new love.
I’m not sure
if I’m just desperate,
or It’s really true,
but I just noticed you today,
And believed in happy endings once more.
Listened to you sing.
Watched you dance onstage,
almost make a fool of yourself.
I laughed, 
waved and cheered you on
more than anyone else.
don’t know why
I like you
But I love this feeling....

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I find myself having to act 
onstage, spotlight trained and fixed
The Sad Clown 
Laughing on the outside 
Crying on the inside 
Lying, pretending, dishonest 
its all one big game
customer asks "How are you today?"
Lie: "Good"
True feelings submerged 
only 10% revealed above water 
until i get home @ night 
then the Sad Clown is exposed in the darkness...

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Stunning in a hot pink dress
Under spotlights, does impress
Elegance and fabric flow
Radiance and smile glow

Captivates this poet's heart
Compares to no one, set apart
From all others, style and grace
A natural, she sets the pace 

And when onstage begins to sing 
The walls in heaven start to ring
Resounding from angelic voice
No further contest, she's the choice...

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Never so scared
Chains on my chest
Can't hear me
Help
Help

I am exposed
I will be hurt
So obvious
So vulnerable

Panicking
Shutting down
Can't shut down
Have to go onstage
Can't go onstage
Shutting down
Can't shut down
Have to go onstage
Can't go onstage
Shutting down

One hour twenty minutes left
Please help
Please help
I'm stuck

I need my binder
I left it at home...

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In my deepest fantasies
I am onstage singing with Glenn Hughes

We are doing the Deep Purple songs together
Both playing bass

The crowd is cheering and yelling
Giving us all their love 

And then it’s time for the bass solo
Glenn points to me and says go!

I shred the strings and bring the o-bass to life
Nothing could be finer

Then I awaken 
To see it was all just a dream 
...

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it would be a last request, before the gallows
like baloo sings it 
i'm being led there, the narrow path between the
faces of the people
my hands tied behind my back
the rope taut against the skin
and i'm going,
de-zop-ba-ronie
hap-da-dee-ba-lat
da-dat-dat-non
hey, a-baby-dot-doo
zaba-doo-doo-day-doo-bop
doo-boo-doo-day, ze-bonz
za-bop-bop-bobby  

we arrive
i turn to the hooded executioner.
'take me home, daddy.'...

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They were invincible
whenever they’re onstage:
piano on the lead
with violin
as his accompaniment.

They toured the cities,
the parks as well;
soft harmonies they played
that all, including men
went envying them—

violin had felt betrayal
from her own bow.
It snapped her strings;
made it sever—
leaving piano out of tune.

Despite his downfall,
piano persisted performing
on stage, but alone—
playing his wife’s
funeral song....

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While in my parent's attic, years ago
I found a dark brown, tattered, leather box
and wondered what strange gift it might bestow
therein, as I released the two brass locks.
Inside, were grandma's paperweights- two rocks,
a lantern-like desk lamp that lit her page
for stories she had crafted through old age,
and fountain pen, well used, to scribe her years-
her past and present- there for me, onstage-
through gifts of manuscripts- I held with tears.


June 21, 2020...

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It hits my nose
Vanilla rose
An onyx ring
Wow, can she sing!
This bluebird fair
With long brown hair
And gorgeous eyes
Yeah, butterflies
The brightest smile
Seen from a mile
Her very essence
Onstage presence
In denim, dresses
She impresses
Clicks and cues
And comfy shoes
Boots at times
The stuff of rhymes
Ok, I'll stop
I've said alot
But there's much more
I hold in store
The nth degree...
Believe you me...

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