ὑποκριτής
Wordless I have found these words
between the Chinese poems and the stars
when shutters lift from the empty stage.
The props are strewn across the boards,
a wooden esplanade in miniature-
thrones, wax fruit and swords;
cardboard crowds and my tranquil lover
watch and know the feeble pulse
of a Saturday matinée.
And when I hold my awkward bones
which flail and flag, I carry on
thirsty for your impromptu cameos.
You are the lumen of my dark hour
the dreams of otherness I sought;
you are the statue in the crypt,
my only hope against the script.
Father, I have found this play
between the Latin chants and blesséd wine
I shall always be an actor here,
an immigrant of sorts
So when you come to meet me
make the sacred real,
the last act a penitential rite.
Comments
tcook | February 11, 2010 - 11:53
Wow - this took a couple of reads to get into but there's a lot in here. A very good poem indeed.
poetjude | February 11, 2010 - 12:14
Thanks Tony, I've just tidied it up and distilled a little more. It was a slightly over-egged pudd!
jude
tcook | February 11, 2010 - 13:45
This is our Facebook and Twitter poem of the day.
Join us on Twitter @tcookabctales
Join us on Facebook at ABCtales.com
Nathan Bednarek | February 13, 2010 - 00:21
A very powerful and intelligent poem. Makes one think. Well done.
Nathan.
maggyvaneijk | May 3, 2010 - 12:49
This is very intelligently written. I had to read it a few times but as Nathan says it makes you think. I love this part:
And when I hold my awkward bones
which flail and flag, I carry on