An interesting thought
Occurred to me
Just the other day
About those who play
At a recital
And also recite at a
play
An interesting thought
Occurred to me
Just the other day
About those who play
At a recital
And also recite at a
play
“Break a leg?” is an actors saying
Which is from the
distant past
And has become a
tradition
Because every play has
a cast
To paraphrase the great Frank Capra
“I thought drama was when actors cried
But I was clearly mistaken in that belief
As drama is when the audience cries”
I heard about a young actor
Who was playing the
part of a Page
Fell through the
floorboards
But he was just going
through a stage
The sculptor creates
With skilful hands
The beauteous article
An artistic gift
Its concept borrowed
From his dreams
And his subconscious
mind
To infuse in his
design
And create a work of
art
When I told mum
I had opened a theatre
I got a rather strange
Reaction from her
“Are you having me
on?”
She said to me
I said “you'll have to
audition
And then we’ll see”
The poet dips his quill
In the inkwell of the
muse
The resulting flowing
words
Are the fruit of
thought
Gathered on the page
In a Poetic harvest
In the well of thoughts
The wordsmith dips his
cup
In search of inspiration
And drinks deep the
draught
But when the spark is
struck
The muse was present
At the moment of
conception
The local Am-Dram group
Is presenting Hamlet
presently
And sadly, I have been
invited
To attend this particular
tragedy
The potter breathing life
Into cold dead clay
An artist and his
canvas
Killing the White
The sculpture seeing
visions
In the lifeless stone
Wordsmiths weaving
Elaborate fabric with
their words
Wood carvers releasing
The image hid within
the wood
The unity between hand
and mind
Artists and artisans
all
The nine muses
Daughters of Zeus
Inspiring of mortals
And nurturers of the
arts
The eighth was,
The divine Thalia,
Flourishing, in bloom,
Was the muse of comedy
and idyllic poetry
A comic mask in her
hand
The praises of Thalia,
rustic goddess
And in her songs
flourish through time
The nine muses
Daughters of Zeus
Inspiring of mortals
And nurturers of the
arts
The seventh was,
The divine Terpsichore,
Delight of dancing,
Muse of choral songs
and dance
A lyre in her hand
Accompanies the
dancers
Terpsichore muse of
dance
Mother of the sirens
The nine muses
Daughters of Zeus
Inspiring of mortals
And nurturers of the
arts
The sixth was,
The divine Polyhymnia,
The one of many hymns,
Was the Muse of sacred
poetry and sacred hymns
Of eloquence and
pantomime
In her long cloak and
classical pose
Polyhymnia was a
serious, pensive and meditative muse
The nine muses
Daughters of Zeus
Inspiring of mortals
And nurturers of the
arts
The second was,
The divine Clio
The maker of fame,
Was the muse of
history
A parchment scroll in
her hands
Clio was the
proclaimer
I heard about a young actor
Who was playing the part of a Page
Fell through the floorboards
But he was just going through a stage
To paraphrase the great Frank Capra
“I thought drama was when actors cried
But I was clearly mistaken in that belief
As drama is when the audience cries”
In our Amateur Dramatics group
I was performing in a pantomime
Which was actually rather crappy
And I argued with one of the dwarfs
I’m don’t know which one he was
But I know for sure he wasn’t happy
“Break a leg?” is an actors saying
Which
is from the distant past
And
has become a tradition
Because
every play has a cast
When I told mum
I had opened a theatre
I got a rather strange
Reaction from her
“Are you having me on?”
She said to me
I said “you'll have to audition
And then we’ll see”
I
like to write an ode or rhyme
It’s
a fun way to pass the time
After
many years of composition
I
have come to this conclusion
The
hardest part of the whole process
And
the least enjoyable I must confess
Unless
of course you pay a mint
Is
to get the bloody stuff in print