The Grand Writer
Auditioning upon the stage of life,
Act your part, use great confidence and pride.
Drama is there of gladness and of strife,
The script itself may take you for a ride.
But if you play it with a happy mind,
Give a performance that is right on cue,
Whilst leaving all your tensions far behind,
The loud applause will surely be for you.
When the finale comes, and curtains fall,
You will have achieved the grand writer’s aim,
That having trod the boards giving your all,
The ‘Oscar’ will be there for you to claim.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
The play-writes curse
The play-writes curse
~
Give me a stage
and the world to write
give me characters
to fit my plot line
give me time and money
to assemble my script
that I may play with ideas
and work what fits
give me the option
for a sudden plot twist
give me set designers
who understand my mind
and actors to follow
whatever my command
give me wine and ink
that I may drink them both
in all my madness
give me your hope
give me this and a stage
that I may write you a play
but please I beg of you
before you give me anything
give me the opening line
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Curtain call
Curtain call
~
A show as long as a life
Written in the script of the unknown
The mysterious bard has foretold
The final curtain call
~
The closing act is well underway
The last scene about to begin
Soon the lights shall dim to blackness
And the curtains shall fall to close
The lead bystander is all but done
A role written to an end
~
This has been no great story
A simple forgetful tale if told true
The mild tragedy of a few events
Within the comedy of it all
The final performance, a swansong
Then all shall be done
~
Once it is over and the curtain falls
The audience shall rise to leave
With a clatter of chairs ringing out
A dull applause
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A timid King
The script was given in time
It's too heavy and really a challenge.
He was chosen as the King.
He cried, and he wants to tell the Playwright
“Give me a small part in your massive drama,
As I am a born pauper.
The crown isn't fit for my head
And I am scared of the sword.
The rough shining dress tingles my soul
And I shall feint on the stage
When the curtain rises.”
But the thoroughbred horse neighs
And refuses any other King to ride on its saddle.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Take it easy
Sometimes it’s hard to find a simple place of mind
Try and try as hard as you can
You have wonder across this great big land
Still you can’t find so you got to
Take it easy
Don’t bother with the pain and strife
For it will make you lose your life
So don’t bother to get uptight
Take it easy
Remember to take it slow
Plant good seeds and they’ll grow
You’ll be happy before you know
It doesn’t matter who you are
Not everyone can be a star
So be satisfied keep your eyes open wide
Take pride in the things you do
And happiness will find you
Take it easy
Don’t bother with the pain and strife
For it will make you lose your life
So don’t bother to get uptight
Take it easy
Remember to take it slow
Plant good seeds and they’ll grow
You’ll be happy before you know
Sit back my friend and watch worlds collide
Life is a journey so try and enjoy the ride
You are truly blessed so fill your heart with pride
Come what may it’s your choice you decide
Sometimes the road will narrow
Still keep your eyes on the sparrow
Trod lightly in the dark
For every flame starts with a spark
Take it easy
Don’t bother with the pain and strife
For it will make you lose your life
So don’t bother to get uptight
Take it easy
Remember to take it slow
Plant good seeds and they’ll grow
You’ll be happy before you know
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Part Of Life, That is
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Stuck with sticking emotions felt in my gut...
Unable to abandon them.
Or give them up...
Had been a place I'd been,
Back then.
With no one but myself...
And faith,
To help me slowly break away...
Of a hold I had on them to mend.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
I have learned to feel grief deeply,
Where it is felt.
Let it visit.
And then from it to leave!
Not to forget the process...
But to breathe!
Remembering...
With an agony upon my letting go,
Knowing what I felt was painful...
It was also,
Part of life!
A part of life,
That is!
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Star Is Born
The leading man walked onto the stage,
the house lights dimmed, a hush descended,
the play was about to begin.
A drama, powerful and dramatic.
Breaths were held, not one body moved.
Suddenly, he spoke.
'Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm afraid to have to inform you,
that our leading lady has been struck down by laryngitis,
therefore, the show is cancelled'.
Mumblings, rumblings, getting louder and louder.
'Not good enough' shouted someone.
'Sit down and shut up', shouted another.
Uproar! Pandemonium!
'Where's the understudy then? ' came from a third.
'She's also indisposed, I'm sorry to say', but your money
will be refunded in the foyer'.
'I know the part', a voice called from way down in the orchestra pit.
'If you'll give me a minute,
I'll go and change, and this show can start'.
Everyone sat down in amazement! '.
This small tiny girl, was bravely taking on the big leading role.
A hush descended in the auditorium,
and the curtains parted.
As the finale ended, there was a standing ovation.
The audience were thrilled.
The girl took a bow.
The orchestra played 'God Save The Queen'
and everyone clapped and cheered.
For here on this stage, this night, a star was born!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Juggling
think think think
you think a lot wanting to capture
the words and fit in all the works
write
you write and keep on writing
love, life, love life, sex, money,
lots of sex, and lots of money,
spend, save, spend, cycles of lost loves
lust, desire, sadness
a sorrow you keep from
dissipating like water drying on
your skin
after a bath, but things keep on
coming and going and you know not
what to to and where and when to stop
precisely you juggle
all these like you're part of the circus
and you know how to
to at the spotlight and on top
of everything
and there they are after your performance
some did not clap their hands
but what do you care
let the finale come and the curtains fall
the end.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Woman Five Doors Down
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted is the best player in the school football team
And that one day he will play in an A.F.L. Grand Final and that more than once of late she's had this dream
Of watching him receive the Coleman medal for best on ground on football's biggest day
Watched by well over ninety thousand people who cheer him on with a loud hip hooray.
But locals who know of football and watched Ted play say he will never play at the top grade
That he won't go down Swanston Street in the back of a lorry
to loud applause in the Grand Final Parade
They say his mother greatly over rates him and that in his team he's just an average player
And that not one in his club will play A.F.L. football with good under age players they do not compare
Ted's mother believes her son will be a football hero and she seemed so convinced that she convinced me
But others who have seen him play say different and with her opinions they do not agree
They say that she will end up disappointed that her dreams for her son will not come true
That he won't make a career out of football another line of work he must pursue.
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted will one day play in the famed M.C.G.
And be the hero of a great Grand Final in a game that will go down in history
And though others seem to think that she's only dreaming I hope her son will be a football great
And that she will applaud him in the Grand Final and the football fans his name will celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Performance
We are all performers
on a daily stage,
each of us having a part
to play the best we can
from waking in the morning
to sleeping late at night.
Every performance
is watched from on high
and he sends us a message
when we get our performance wrong.
He tell us in his own way
how to mend the performance
that we gave,
then we go out and start
all over again,
only this time
to right the wrongs we made.
5 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Threepenny Pierrot
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero, threepenny pierrot
Happy little feet that dance all day
Lonely little heart with lots to say
Stepping footprints on your mind
Offering thoughts of columbine
Bang the drum and blow the bugle call
Pierrot takes the stage to play for all
For heres a life his fortune rules
Forsaken by his columbine
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero, threepenny pierrot
To tap his feet to greet dear harlequin
The hearts of folks so keenly hard to win
A patchwork frame of tears and wine
The nectar for cruel columbine
The part of three and leaves the stage forlorn
Puppets cold, their faces sad and drawn
Relive each trial of rise and fall
The love which lacks between us all
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero, threepenny pierrot
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero . . . . . . threepenny pierrot
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet- Things Change In Life
The more we climb, the more we leave behind;
To gain virtues, we must give up vices;
Each stage, we must maintain our peace of mind;
Good deeds, more temptations sure entices.
The more we climb, the fear of fall is more;
So, reinforce yourself at every stage;
Effort is more to open heavier door;
Sometimes, life's challenges, we must engage.
Sans sacrifice, great feats can't be achieved;
Sans risks and challenges, we can't do things;
Sans analgesics, pain can't be relieved;
Sans struggle, Life not much advancement brings.
The state of mind must change from woe to joy;
We ought to change some day to man from boy.
poem by John Celes
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Singing For Change
Before we begin, the audience chatters.
In the nearby café bar, cutlery clatters.
Stood on the stage, I look all around,
Taking in all the sights and the sounds.
With so many watching, I feel slightly shy,
But my spirit within, is soaring so high.
I open my mouth, and I sing out real loud.
Our concert has drawn a really big crowd.
The hall we are in, is a massive space.
We watch our Conductor keeping pace.
Our choir sings out many a great song.
A couple of times, I sing a note wrong.
There is a real bright sparkle in my eyes.
The joy within my heart begins to rise.
The smile on my lips, I just can't hide.
Singing with Voicelab, I feel such pride.
As a choir, we all sing out together as one.
It is hard work, but it is also really good fun.
We sing some classical; we sing some pop.
I want to keep singing: I don't want to stop.
The power of song ignites my inner light;
The aura around me burns so very bright.
I love it when my mind feels this way.
If only I could do this every single day.
At the end of each song, we get applause.
We leave the audience wanting some more.
I desperately don't want the end to come.
Afterwards, the songs, I continue to hum.
When our performance is over and done,
I want to do it all again: I want a re-run.
The Royal Festival Hall, we later leave,
Pleased with all that we have achieved.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Drama of Life
Our life is a drama and the players are we
The stage is wherever we want our feet to be
But we can't always choose the best place in a stage
and choose the part we act, it is GOD who dictates
the kind of story line, the plot we have to take,
when to raise the curtain and when the play must end
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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The Ballroom-A Pantoum
'And gilded couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since.'
-Sylvia Plath, 'Cinderella'
The orchestra begins a new melody.
The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part.
Guests sip white wine and champagne, and
scores of couples begin to dance.
The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part
as the violins and cellos play their song.
Scores of couples begin to dance:
Men in tuxedoes, and ladies in scarlet gowns.
As the violins and cellos play their song,
dancers twirl on the white marble floor.
Men in tuxedoes and ladies in scarlet gowns
fill the grand palace hall with applause.
Dancers twirl on the white marble floor;
guests sip white wine and champagne and
fill the grand palace hall with applause.
The orchestra begins a new melody.
poem by Kimberly Kastner
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Fit In
Written by kim wilde
Fit in, fit in
Im spending nights just dreaming
And playing the music loud
Theyre banging on the ceiling
Theyre praying that Ill soon be out
I almost thought of leaving
Get away from the glares and their unfriendly stares
And now Im all alone
And the telephone teases and dares
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
Fit in, fit in
Theyre kicking up a storm in ...
Some strange place they know out of town
Why wont I go along there
Its crazy theyre all doing it now
But right now its the last place
That I wanna see - its my way to be free
And Im getting bored
Of the way they expect me to be
You gotta be, you gotta be
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
Fit in, fit in
Fit in, fit in
Im holding on so tightly
But I dont want to take any more
cos what they say just bites me
And gets to me down to the core
A ring and kids invite me
Or a house and a home
And a car and a phone
And a video
Wont they ever leave it alone
You gotta ring, you gotta ring
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
I wont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
Oh no, I dont fit in, fit in
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something Theatrical
Come to the theatre, discern the actions, there on the stage,
With actors giving you their all, your interest to engage,
The light, scenery and music, the atmosphere is great,
There's drama, and there's comedy, it's a chance to celebrate.
Such power in the performance, which can always mesmerize,
The colour and the spectacle that unfolds before your eyes,
The musical and the pantomime, are all such fun to see,
The songs are awe inspiring, 'Cinderella' is for me.
A story of love and romance, with a happy ending too,
Also 'Aladdin and his Magic Lamp', with a genie spot on cue.
From Shakespeare, to playwrights new, they're there to entertain,
So venture to the theatre, your trip won't be in vain,
The costumes are fantastic, the settings are just right,
I know you won't regret it, so go and have a super night.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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We Need But Ask
Its sad to see our neighbours fall
To see our families fail
Its sad that they reject God’s call
And spend their lives in jail
This age of car and aeroplane
Of spaceships to the moon
Man’s wanton lust and selfish gain
Though Christ is coming soon
They’ve been to school they’ve grown so wise
But still The Truth they doubt
Their selfish pride has closed their eyes
To what this life’s about
They fail to see the facts at hand
The devil’s robbed their sight
Whilst heads are stuck in shifting sand
They fail to see The Light
No thought of death and coming wrath
No thought of Heaven’s will
Choosing instead the devil’s path
They hope life’s hopes to fill
Whilst Satan yet controls their mind
Whilst evil fills their heart
They’ll wander lost and total blind
And have from life no part
God’s Son alone can save their soul
God’s Son alone can heal
God’s Son alone can make them whole
If when to Him they kneel
It matters not how deep we’ve trod
How shameful yet we live
We need but seek The Son of God
And ask Him to forgive
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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Writer- a must?
Out of what does a writer write?
Out of hatred or perversion;
Out of denial or deprivation.
Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger or hatred.
To cry out from pain or lust.
How does a writer write?
By borrowing or distorting.
By modeling or duping.
For what does a writer write?
For an applause and a place.
It alone suits him, an idler.
What is the use of a writer?
For him to flaunt his skill.
For readers to idle away
Does the society need a writer?
Does a woman need cosmetics?
Writer is a part of civilization
16.05.2007.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Convulsions of an old stage actress
Oh! The cracked lips are like a severe drought.
And the sunburn skin as an Ethiopian race.
Her sleepless eyes caught a bygone memory.
She was admired on the stage when the curtain raised.
And the incessant rain of clapping, where were they gone?
The playful audience.
Still she acts in the life-drama but no spectators.
The stage is almost dark and she hears the faraway theme song gradually draws nearer.
She does the rehearsal; 'Stagecoach has come with all the horses,
Before it gets dark I have to pass the woods.
So I leave the script here for my brothers & sisters and the drama is not yet over.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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On Hearing Of A Death
We lack all knowledge of this parting. Death
does not deal with us. We have no reason
to show death admiration, love or hate;
his mask of feigned tragic lament gives us
a false impression. The world's stage is still
filled with roles which we play. While we worry
that our performances may not please,
death also performs, although to no applause.
But as you left us, there broke upon this stage
a glimpse of reality, shown through the slight
opening through which you dissapeared: green,
evergreen, bathed in sunlight, actual woods.
We keep on playiing, still anxious, our difficult roles
declaiming, accompanied by matching gestures
as required. But your presence so suddenly
removed from our midst and from our play, at times
overcomes us like a sense of that other
reality: yours, that we are so overwhelmed
and play our actual lives instead of the performance,
forgetting altogehter the applause.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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