Treasure Island

Chris G. Vaillancourt

(April 5,1959 / Canada)

A Smattering Of Applause


Sheltered dreams always seem to end.
They filter down like
drops of hopeless water
which fall from the sky
and melt upon hitting the ground.

Pleasant sands sparkle in the
brilliance of the sunshine.
Yet the heat of the ground
would burn as easily
as a furnace fire.

Necklaces are woven out of
deceitful messages.
Worn like penance
around the necks
of chanting monks
marching nimbly
into the setting
of the play.

The actors were assembled, now they are gone.
The stage was full, now it stands quietly empty.

The audience has clapped its last applause.

Butterflies have lost the
will to fly and so they
flutter to their death
upon the burning sands.

The heat escapes attention
as the wings smoke
and than burst into tiny
funeral pyres.

The animals have been released from the zoo.
The doorkeeper has fled his enclosure in order
to surrender his vowels to the
strands of politically correct
poisoned flowers.

I told you the play was over.
Now go home.

Submitted: Monday, October 12, 2009
Edited: Thursday, June 30, 2011

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Comments about this poem (A Smattering Of Applause by Chris G. Vaillancourt )

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  • Marica Apodaca (10/14/2009 6:45:00 AM)

    As always, an awesome write. I find myself hanging on each line you write.. knowing there is always far deeper meaning than what my eye reads. Thnx for the link here. Your Iowa Friend (Report) Reply

  • C. P. Sharma (10/13/2009 11:26:00 AM)

    A sparkling piece of art focusing at the wasting of life for transitory fame.
    CP (Report) Reply

  • Gold Fish (10/12/2009 8:51:00 PM)

    An interesting poem with a world turned upside down. What a first line, 'Sheltered dreams always seem to end.' I couldn't agree more. Keep up the good work. 10+ (Report) Reply

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