Theater Poems - Poems about Theater

cities bubbling with their stories life playing out with all its drama characters come and go behind every curtain falls a hero at other times a villain the city recycles bit parts for show biz in one continuous stage production AP: 3rd place 2025 Submitted on June 19, 2025 for contest 1391 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention...

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The red curtains lift and the day begins The sun steps up, introducing herself Most of us don’t dare to look at her directly a whispering wind enters declaring that the world is ending today In this abandoned theatre The last place humans are We sit enjoying the play with a glorious farewell performance from...

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Summer Dawn Theatre ...

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Of all the types of dance there are Across a world-wide map, My very favorite one, by far, Is any type of tap. There’s something ‘bout those quick short moves With that staccato sound That gets me into happy grooves When tap shoes are around. Today we saw the final show Of a two week tap dance run. The joy on stage produced a glow Which...

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she be... my mona lisa center of real-at-tea... as the core in my cup... the space-time i see... len ...

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You are a treasure, sitting in the empty theater, under lights slowly dimming, You wait for the screen to gather dust and for rust to settle, The plays are woven from the hands of talents, just for your curious eyes, Shimmering dresses and perfect scenes crafted for your sincere approval. "Madam, are you happy?" they ask after every happy...

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In the absurd theater of our world, where the curtain of reason has long been torn, The puppeteers of madness move their marionettes with strings woven from illusions and empty promises. The crowd, an ocean of hollow eyes and dormant minds, sways to the rhythm of a harsh melody, Executing every command...

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The curtains drawn the room very gloomy the stage free of debris and finally the music plays at first it seems like I'm dreaming my spouse his lover the mouse I'm conducting this play as the velvet day moves the shadowy figures about for I am the mistro the ushers are a no show the crowd began to beg...

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I was a celebrated, dramatic mime artist, an art developed in ancient Greece; I took folks on flights of imagination, like cushy, butterscotch clouds of fleece. So beloved was this art called re-creation, that it had for long been a passion, Which left contemporary audiences happy, like hued rainbow's lovely sections. The art had ever fascinated me, being able...

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When we watch movies from the 1930s, 1940s, and1950s and into the 1960's and see black americans mostly playing domestic servants I am offended by it, by the lack of opportunity they had, the lack of freedom they had to choose the roles they wanted to play. There is no better example than in the...

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I was a famous, American actress, who adored performing for live audiences, In stage plays, both modern and classic, like velvet time, which often rushes. Rose acclaim filled long, chaotic days, of colorful masquerades and fulfillment, Like Sleeping Beauty crimson butterflies, on a first flight to sweet enrichment. I admired the other actors of my troupe, since we worked...

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Cresento Canta ...

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Dreary grey coats my senses I cant sense where the end is Among lofty masks and feeble tries The roaring applause of the crowd is among the highs Thats sunk so low into stone I feel it can carve my grievances into bone For the roar of cheer is best reserved For someone who well deserves The colour i pretend lights my eyes When...

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They are like two beam lights that claim the stage on a hot summer eve in the middle of a makeshift floor parkette made of wood, varnish, and lights that aim They are more than two American dollies dressed in French lace and boudoir lipsticks They are idols of the theater talking through cables and...

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They dress for theater with gloves up to their elbows The Roosevelts, Thomases, Rockafellers, and Shelbows. They wear their glitziest tiaras, while carrying their fans. On their arms they show off their tuxedo-wearing mans....

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