This world is tragi-comedic in strict proportion
~ to the pathways we tread of utter distortion
To all those who have placed entries in the above contest
I am unable it seems to finalise the contest I have chosen
Winners and locked it.' Yet the finalize button stays stubbornly
Dull.' I will keep trying to work through this it's not the first time
I've encountered it.'God bless.'
A brilliant British actor, Rik Mayall
excelled as a stand-up comedian,
and displayed fireball creativity
to inspire actors by his approach to sitcom.
A pioneer in the form of alternative comedy,
he tragically ditched another relationship,
eloped with Barabara to marry her
in a rather dramatic manner.
A successful career ended abruptly,
when he died suddenly of heart attack.
The death many considered unexplained,
for he had a strong heart.
It’s not known if he was prompted
by his friends who took their own lives.
He played in tragi comedy scene his last role
to be a member of the 56 club.
______________
September 18, 2022
Contest : Tragi Comedy
Sponsored by : Joe Maverick
Richard Michael Mayall
On June 9, 2014 took his last pratfall,
Noted for his energetic “post-punk” style
The English comedic actor elicited many a smile.
FOURTH PLACE WINNER
Written September 7, 2022
Submitted to “Tragi Comedy” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joe Maverick
Much ado
About nothing..
The much ado
Is the stage play
Life appearing
On a stage..
Nothing appearing
As the characters on
No stage at all..
Yet we on the stage
Seeking escape from
Tragi-comic scripts
Seeking desperately
For Nothing
Appearing as
Much ado...
(Crediting the
originator of
Much Ado!)
Best of tragic-comedies I have read so far,
Is Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, fineness par?
Antonio fails to pay his heavy loan taken,
Shy-lark's immense pride is too terribly shaken...!
Each little movement, like final chess, did all play.
None, though, moving naughty coins each step, could not stay.
Shakespeare knew how to start and end his whole story,
It's, hence, his each story has its gorgeous glory...!
Who could, days such old, think of flesh away from blood?
He did. This is hence his stories seem flower-bud.
Skylark had to be dragged within the plot he hatched.
Antonio's judge (you know who) did get things well-patched...!
Love ultimately wins. Each in this cosmos knows.
Despising love, I do not know, where a soul goes...!
04 September 2022
Tragi comedy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
A pastoral tragi-comedy – twelve hours long.
It begins with twilight: the day’s oozing hours,
Creating somber music of a melancholic song:
The theme song to mourn fall of day's powers.
Night rain begins to flood the glamorous plain,
Inspiring dark shadows to release, stormy reign.
Each sneaks in, tiptoeing, after a helpless pray,
Seizes or play with it before, the dawn of day.
This classic tale does not, thus, miserably end.
Moon, the dimmed lantern, with her fireflies
Leaves all, yet allowing sovereign sun to send,
Crystal rays to dawn the day, and cease our cries.
*A 1st Place*in the following contest (judged on Oct. 23, 2020)
Submitted on Oct. 22, 2020
To Brian Strand's Poetry contest: COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (31)any form any theme Poetry Contest
(Posted on Oct. 18, 2020)
* A 2nd Place* in the following contest (judged on Oct. 21, 2020)
Collaboration with the Silent One Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Silent One
Now hushed bleak sterile corridors
recall the cries, laughter and tears
of those once termed insane;
all is still now.
Rooms behind forbidding windows,
shutters slam-dance lazily in the breeze;
all is empty.
No actual cells, no straw on cruel stone floors
or padded walls,
reality is cracked linoleum and Formica;
all is quiet.
The local Bedlam towers black,
decaying dead slumber,
etched against a red-tinged horizon.
No movement now within the confines
of her walls,
other than upon the evenings of the
Autumnal moon, when perhaps
resonances of the past send strange
drifting spectres to walk the balconies
and pace the grey great hall,
acting out the bygone dramas of this home,
this refuge, Asylum.
Those who would dare to
venture here
on such tragi-comic nights would see;
but no one comes here and no one sees
and all too few care or understand,
for all that is past are now dead memories,
and all that is to follow
is the truest madness...
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