Treasure Island

John Garth Raubenheimer

(21/12/1947 / Johannesburg)

My First Poem - 1968


communication
mutters the sage

he nods to himself to himself to himself

as Coolhand Luke
doomed by
his own
individuality
calls to the clown
who runs on stage

what we got here
is simply
a lack of communication

and the clown
laughing for his audience
weeping
behind his mask
paints a silent poem into their mirth
what we got here

mutters
Luke
as blood pours from his shattered neck
is a failure to communicate

he nods to himself to himself to

infinity
a thousand clowns
roll in the aisles
the audience stands alone on stage

Submitted: Sunday, March 25, 2007
Edited: Saturday, March 22, 2014

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Topic(s): film

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Comments about this poem (My First Poem - 1968 by John Garth Raubenheimer )

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  • Mrs. Blue (11/1/2009 6:15:00 PM)

    Funny thing, like right after to himself to himself to himself, I just started nodding to myself....to myself to myself. haha i loved the beat and it flowed very easily. Great poem (Report) Reply

  • Melvina Germain (3/25/2007 10:33:00 AM)

    An excellent poem John, very creative indeed, I truly enjoyed it. First poem you say Nah! A big (10) from me John.---Melvina--- (Report) Reply

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