Theater Poem by Barry Middleton
Theater
I never felt the bullet strike,
my death was quite serene,
but it was just an interlude,
a brief dramatic scene.
And yet the blood was thick and red,
it may have pierced my heart,
the bitter stage is never kind,
but all must play their part.
And just before the final bow,
before the shot was fired,
it was too late to be a star,
too late to be inspired.
The curtain fell to scant applause,
though I hit every cue,
but still I know ‘twas just a play,
I'll wait for the review.
Life of an artistic articulately merged with the real life, Full Marks, we all are hungry of appreciation and reviews. You nailed the true human nature with this fantastic poem.
Thanks. The real review comes in the afterlife if there is one. Or maybe we write it for ourselves as we look back in old age.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 12:19:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
What a marvellous supposition what could be our death in th e theater of life.That humoristic point of view may be the true one we should have for the feath waiting us.We have to play our part, role the right way to give the audience, our friends and relatives the motivation to applaud.Kudos, dear Barry.
Thanks Dimitrios for a positive review.