Theatre
Something happens I can't explain
It feels enclosed quite like a train
Within its wall you are truly set free
To be yourself or who you want to be It's like, let's pretend, or dressing up
Childlike feelings, they fill your cup
Escaping, distracting the daily grind
You can leave your worries all behind
Rehearsing, sets and stage lights
The anticipation of opening nights
A team feeling for those not so sporty
Rare chance for adults to act naughty
A sense of purpose shared with all
Commitment, a time to stand up tall
Drama, thriller, it is always a farce
Mischief and tears, acting an ****
If you act with respect to all around
A home from home is easily found
In our theatres, dreams come true
This beautiful place is open to you.
Night trains' theatre
Saturday to Sunday, after midnight going home, the restaurant closed
Walk to the station, get on Bond Street, the train works, takes me home,
Change at Baker Street from Jubilee line to Metropolitan line, fast walk
In the stations and subways walked people cheerfully, men and women
Time after night, hmm, happy people traveled in the carriage, past time
Hmm, bombastic amazing ladies, they talked cheerfully and just laughed
Night Train movie, this is one of the theatres in my life. Watching the life,
on the trains. People, passengers, young, old, different nationalities
Hmm, colorful existence is a tale in life. Nothing, everything is life.
Wembley Park Station
Arriving to home
The theatre closed
In the beginning there were three;
An undisputed trinity of reasons
showing audiences why;
More enthralled with each scene were they,
a legacy this crowd helped build;
Culture shifted forever with this movie;
A dish served best with friends in theatres.
Star Wars Tribute
‘Three Reasons Why They Build Movie Theatres
Started his career as a playback musician
He took no much time to reach the lead position
Renowned as a singer, dancer, and songwriter
Overwhelmed with heavy loads of musical flair
Stunningly, he used to swirl body like a snake
For him, dancing and singing were a piece of cake
with cropped pants, loafers and a suspended hair lock
Left crowds screaming with iconic moves of moonwalk
With tons of love, his fans called him the King of Pop
In roaring theatres, he used to make all scream and hop
Invincible Thriller, The Way You Make Me Feel
Rock With You, I Want You Back to the world to heal
(Third stanza- last two lines are his albums)
If the computers never exist
There would be chit chat
on the telephones and I-Pads
When family comes over chit chat
is heard
Lots of lots of face to face chatting
We would be reading
more books
Enjoying the theatres
To watch movies
The telephone would be
used more
listening to conversation
Chatting for long hours
of our news of the day
Just a thought I had
Without computers
There would be nowhere
To create our poetry
there
Sitting in her wheelchair
Reading a book
She was thin and pale
And occasionally, she'd look
Into space
With whimsical smile
On her once beautiful face.
Her name was Olympia.
Olympia used to dance,
She was sensational
And she put her audience in trance.
She floated onto the stage,
Like a breath of Spring
Her gracefulness and expertise
Made the onlooker's hearts sing
Olympia was well-known,
In theatres everywhere
She topped the bill
And patrons flocked there
Dancing was her life,
She was born to dance
She never married
Although she had the chance
Men pursued Olympia
For both her beauty and talent
She was never smitten by them
That she made apparent.
It was a dream
That she was lucky to fulfil
A life of dancing
Until she becomes too ill
To dance, her life away
She sits in a wheelchair now
And this is where she has to stay
She loves to sit and dream,
Staring into space
With a book on her lap
And a whimsical smile
On her once beautiful face
I live in a city that never sleeps!
Notice people moving here and there…
Engaged in their routine activities…
Minding not their surroundings!
Those who love burning the midnight oil…
Found busy working night shifts.
Those who are pleasure loving…
Found visiting pubs, nightclubs and theatres.
At night they don’t sleep;
In the morning they don’t wake up.
Aren’t they the creatures of the night?
Creatures of the Night Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Date: 18-06-2022
place: 3rd
Violent offenders released without bail
a senseless reform, it unfailingly fails
Victims walk alone in dark alleys at night
then rant on the news 'bout the lack of streetlights
Movies at theatres feature a killing a minute
Hollywood's culture of death implicated in it
Crude rap songs glorify every nasty habit imaginable
blare from sidewalks and streets uninhabitable
Guns so easy to score on the meanest of streets
adolescents own more than the cops on the beat
Single mothers on drugs, absent fathers in jail
young kids left untended, what do 'values' avail
Do murders seem senseless ~ They're so often not
They happen for good reason in the society we've got
Heroes, every one.
They came in a trickle and then a flood,
To enlist in the forces to do some good.
They were turned from ordinary men,
Into frightening fighting machines.
Farmers, millers, tailors of clothes
Butchers, bakers, they came in droves,
They rallied at depots throughout the land,
Now ready and able waiting for the command.
To theatres of war, battalions deployed,
Generations of men, leaving villages void.
Leaving women and old men to watch their back,
Defending the realm from an enemy attack.
Battles raged across the world, the land was red,
Before it all ended there were millions of dead.
War graves across the ravaged lands cry out,
Here lies a hero that no one may doubt.
They died knowing freedom was worth the fight,
Shoulder to shoulder they stood and they died,
Regardless of race, colour or creed, they knew,
This war against tyranny they had to win through.
No matter what this modern age try to do to erase
the memory of these heroes, they will surely fail.
For if war comes again to threaten the world,
They will rise again to repel and prevail.
Lest we forget, which will be NEVER.
© Dave Timperley 04/07/2021
Genuine dollars from just shredded papers!
Risked bloodless jumps from sky scrapers!
A repeated mad stabbing of one’s bowel with a dagger,
one amusedly looking back at the waiters for a stagger;
All, a seeming control of Autonomous Nature,
To the mightily attracted, an enough mental torture.
His bamboozled face sometimes worshipfully handsome
Over a barefaced holding of Nature to ransom…
This, though, a piteous misconstruction of Reality,
As magic remains miles away from Actuality;
Just as Scheming, Ingenious Devil is from God
And a gestured ‘nay’ from ‘a nod’…
In theatres commercially displayed
And in open squares freely replayed,
Faultless jobs that are but a trick,
Disparaging Laws strong like Brick;
Undeserving pockets with money stashing
And deceiving graceful necks garlanding…
If magical powers be Satan’s invention
Then one is a professing achiever of his invention,
At once, his minister
With clearly missions sinister.
Settling for a tomorrow wearing a puncture
And unthinking forfeiture of a happy future.
A tunnel entrance into a building
Can be very pleasing to the eye
You never know what you will find.
It can be interesting to walk through
You never know what you will be seen
Some entrances are short others longer
They have different items hanging
Along the pass ways as you walk by
It could be art work or mosaic design
You never know what you will see
I have seen stripes on walls
these stripes look like archways
Leading us into a special place
A tunnel wall that leads us into
a building is never boring
Always something to see
It could lead to theatres
Or into a shopping mall
Or an art gallery show
Tunnels into buildings
Can be interesting
You never know what
You will see on the
tunnel walls
Afterwards
And then it came to a end:
virus, lockdown, pandemic.
The air was fresh once more, purged
of infection and sickness.
The sun was brighter, refreshed;
people went to restaurants,
in crowds to pubs and cinemas;
theatres opened, life resumed.
Football matches, back to work,
parties, meeting friends, holidays,
Just the way it used to be.
Face masks were left unused,
The New Normal died the death.
In your dreams!
In the mail, a supplication:
Time now to renew.
Your yearly fee for discount tix
Is very shortly due.
I see a lot of Broadway shows
And small productions, too.
The TDF* sells tickets
To boost theatres’ revenue.
Of course, all stages still are dark.
There won’t be a debut
Of any long-awaited drama,
Concert or revue.
And when will I feel comfortable
To crowd in with a slew
Of other theatre-lovers,
Their proximity taboo?
The answer is a big unknown
For I don’t have a clue
When my Broadway visits will resume;
I’ll likely miss my cue.
*Theatre Development Fund
We stand in lines
All the time
Sometimes those lines
Are short
And sometimes those lines
Are long
And seem to take
An eternity
We stand in line
Everywhere
We stand in lines
At the grocery store
Waiting to buy groceries
We stand in line
Everywhere
We stand in line
At clothing stores
Waiting to buy clothing
We stand in line
Everywhere
We stand in line
At concerts and movie theatres
Waiting to buy tickets
For concerts and movies.
Standing in line
Sometimes it’s the hardest thing
To do
But it happens everyday
Here, there and everywhere
Solitary sun in sapphire skies,
beams its rays upon Earth's radiance.
A tepid breeze flows between
daffodils and bluebells, gently rocking.
Spring is in the air,
yet streets remain silent.
Masked men in green suits,
bearing arms, patrol -
perturbed by unsought peace.
Anticipating unauthorised motions,
they wander past eerie emptiness -
sleeping theatres, picture less cinemas,
sober bars, childless schools and unfit gyms.
Silence is disrupted by military vehicles
occasionally startling their comrades.
Echoes of continuous coughs,
hidden behind closed curtains,
prevent even the obstinate ones,
admiring scents from rousing roses -
whose petals are not idle in isolation.
Industry of death is thriving -
undertakers undertaking, grave diggers digging.
Crematoriums fighting coffin carpenters -
whose sympathies are disguised by greed.
As humanity evolves into ashes.
In the midst of clean air,
mother nature smiles,
bathing in tranquil purity of serenity
the only fire burning is the sun.
Silent One
Simple Musing
22 March 2020
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