Imitations Poem by Kevin Patrick
Imitations
you asked me a question, but the question dissolved
behind a Kirby wire necks of paper Mache doves
our zoetrope aperture splintered light through a colander
revealing myriad swarms of schizophrenic stars
Then thunder stuttered, from an off-screen Foley man
His orchestra consisted of two aluminum sheets;
some sand, a chisel and a hand waving microphone
enough to make redundant a Norse gods tenure
Dry Ice made for clouds when the fog machine broke down
it billowed white with agate from off the proscenium
one whiff was a tiff to spoil a bit of magic,
a plume or two bloomed from heavy sinews of motors
The Third Act dissolved with bluster. And stream of fluster
Our protagonist was checked with Chekhov's gun
with paralysis of plot twist (& added parenthesis)
We left their, confused, like Imitations of life
Afterwards, walking through streets without canvases
Passing by buildings with authentic dimensions
I cough, my performance, cataract with hesitance
Stands stilted like an actor, forced to improvise
Heart humming, poor pumps rusted with resurrection
Obliged to organ grinders without pensive reflections
Stumbling in confusion like a ballerina without Torus
Weighed by tragedy and comedy without any Chorus
Amazing poem. I love it although it is well above my understanding. You are truly a talented poet with high standards. Beautifully depicted the essence of reality and illusion. A work of art. Love it. Thank you for sharing.
Your poem is too profound for me to understand. The spectacle of the old and rather crude theatrical performance has created in you mixed reactions! Once out of the world of illusion you are back to the world of tangible reality where you are greeted by a world of joy and sorrow. In a way the world too is a theatre where we are actors. Sometimes we are prepared for the assigned role, sometimes we improvise as per the urgency of the situation. Wonderful write! Top marks!
Your poetry maintains a high standard! I can't gauge the depth of it! The spectacle of the old and in a way crude theatrical performance has aroused in you mixed reactions. Once out of the world of illusion you are back to the world of concrete reality which is always a mixture of joy and sorrow! This world is a stage and we are all actors! Sometimes we are prepared for the role, sometimes we improvise according to the urgency of the situation! Top marks!
A richly imaginative piece that captures the portrait of old theatre. Lovely depiction.
This is amazing, Kevin. You capture something fleeting. Theatre creates so many profound memories, yet no performance can ever be exactly duplicated. And then there is something in your verse that triggered the idea of cinema and theatre. I flashed to Bergman and to so many old classics from the silent days and the 1930s....this goes straight to myfavourites.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 6:11:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Then thunder stuttered, from an off-screen and the question was asked which was dissolved. Third Act dissolved with bluster and stream of fluster amazed mind with interesting flow. A theater is brilliantly perceived and this poem carries an interesting expression. This is definitely an excellently penned poem...10