Charade
The ivory glow of the house lights dim
then come alive again.
A signal to the audience
their journey is about to begin.
The lights go down darkness prevails.
Subdued idle conversation ceases.
The anticipative silence broken
only by a muffled unintentional cough.
Closed ornate curtains shield the stage.
Concealing from the spectators
all clues to upcoming events.
A calculated pause focuses their attention.
As though on their own the curtains part.
Revealing the setting designed to weave
spectators from the humdrum of reality.
Into the mystical world of make believe.
The cast in the order of their appearance
ply well their skills rousing all’s imagination.
So well they seem to have become the roles they play.
Masters of deception they truly are.
Tempting drawing and holding the audience
in the web of the masquerade.
To fool and entertain them
will be the successful completion of the charade.
(17JUN95)
poem by Kurt Hearth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A House With No Curtains
(alan jackson/jim mcbride)
We still wear our rings
We still say I love you
We both play the part
Oh so well
But everyone knows
Its just a sad show
And were only foolin ourselves
Its like living in a house with no curtains
The whole world can see whats inside
You can turn out the lights in a house with no curtains
But the heartache has nowhere to hide
We could pack up and leave in different directions
If we just had somewhere to go
We just keep on pretending
Afraid of the ending
Admitting what everyone knows
Its like living in a house with no curtains
The whole world can see whats inside
You can turn out the lights in a house with no curtains
But the heartache has nowhere to hide
You can turn out the lights
In a house with no curtains
But the heartache has nowhere to hide
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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And when an architect has designed a house with large windows, which is a necessity today in order to pull the daylight into these very deep houses, then curtains come to play a big role in architecture.
quote by Arne Jacobsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Edinburgh Military Tattoo
An August evening, and people make their way to
Edinburgh Castle for the world famous Military Tattoo.
Once everyone has arrived and taken their seats,
From the battlements, sounds a steady drum beat.
Soon, a large corps of drummers appears,
To the audience’s applause and rousing cheers.
Each of the soldiers, dressed in their smart uniforms,
Has been up, rehearsing, since the first break of dawn.
The drummer’s skills are most highly rated:
They perform all kinds of rhythms, including syncopated.
The sound of the big bass drum, through my body, resonates;
Its booming beat similar to that of my own pulsing heart rate.
The drummers are replaced by another military band;
No drums this time, but they have bagpipes in hand.
The whole event is a real feast for ears and eyes.
Some of the tunes played, I instantly recognise.
During the show, the arena is constantly filled,
With military personnel demonstrating their skills.
Soldiers stand to attention in a long regimented, straight line,
Then, as one, move their feet, as they stand there marking time.
The spectacle of the Massed Band of The Royal Air Force,
Makes the blood in my veins race and excitedly course.
You can’t help but be moved by the sights and the sounds,
Of one of the world’s most famous military displays around.
The audience of some seven thousand people strong,
Sit enraptured, taping their feet and clapping along.
The Esplanade, where the action all takes place, sits
In front of the impressive stone castle which is floodlit.
This stunning pageant has a truly international flavour.
Talents from around the world, the audience can savour.
To a Scottish fiddle, traditional dancers swirl.
Regimental flags are ceremoniously unfurled.
And, just as all this action has made the audience rather hyper,
They are calmed down again by the lament of the lone piper.
To the ramparts, where the piper is stood, all eyes are drawn,
As the pipes play a haunting melody, traditionally, used to mourn.
Near the end, my neighbours link their arms with mine,
As, together, we sing a rousing chorus of ‘Auld Lang Syne.’
The audience make their way home, and soon, a hush falls.
I stroll back to my hotel, feeling glad to have been a part of it all.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Sleep With The Lights On
Sleep with the lights on-
And though curtains may flutter,
The sun won’t peek through.
Sleep with the lights on
Though candles might stutter,
The outside stays blue.
Sleep with the lights on;
While the traffic still sputters,
There's nothing to do.
Sleep with the lights on
So when that thing is hunting-
You’ll know it’s found you.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Sky
You are a kaleidoscopic drama
A gusty platform for celestial revelation
Dotted soars are your closest audience
Scudding clouds are the opening curtains
Roaring pour is your musical orchestra
Solar to lunar, shiny to Selene
Scenario, persona..astounding, incredible
Applause.
But..
Beyond your spherical width what?
Black nether yard of vast darkness
You've drawn your blinds over there
Sun is mindless to let even a speck
Departed souls are wandering aghast
Your nocturnal mischief is thundering in silence
From here you're a majestical roof
But why mystical, magical otherwise?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Actress
Spellbound, she peeked beyond the curtain.
The audience was full.
She could not remember her opening lines
and now there came a lull.
The time had arrived for her grand debut.
Where had her words all gone?
She'd rehearsed them over and over again
and now the curtain was drawn.
The lights were shining upon her face
and the audience was devoid of noise.
She closed her eyes for a second
and became the picture of poise.
One by one the words unfolded
and she became the character she played.
By the time the first act ended
her nervousness all did fade.
She was born for this and nothing else.
The stage became her throne.
For years she portrayed each heroine.
The world was all her own.
But some years later a younger one
was ready for her debut.
So she sadly stepped out of the limelight
and wondered 'Now what will I do? '
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Wait For The Blackout
Dont you ask me to come out
Out when the sun does shine
Gonna stay here with curtains drawn
In darkness youll be mine
Lets wait for the blackout
The lights are too bright
Lets wait for the blackout
Wait for the night
Well welcome to my basement flat
No windows to see through
With darkness closing in, my friend
We both know what to do
Lets wait for the blackout
Wait for the night
Lets wait for the blackout
The lights are too bright
Yea!
Lets wait for the blackout
The lights are too bright
Lets wait for the blackout
Wait for the night
Come roam with me upon this earth
Keep us both alive
Know everything has lasted here
And neer would survive
Lets wait for the blackout
The lights are too bright
Lets wait for the blackout
Wait for the night
In darkness there is no sin light only brings in fear theres nothing to corrupt the eyes there is no vision here at first you may find it strange but do not go away the darkness holds a power that you wont find in the day there is no vision here (repeat)
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ruminations Of A Morning
in this seductive interplay of
sun and shadows
in this intirguing drama of
light and darkness
i nose-dive into pools of
teasing illusions and
corrupted reality
i'm utterly defenceless in the
vortex of hide and seek
on this pompous stage of
glaring lights with my face
heavily made up
i indulge in an unending soliloquy
that i alone hear
i enact a clumsy pantomime
in an auditorium where
i'm the only audience
is this just one sun rise
is this just one darkness
is this just one dawn
is this juse one dusk
that repeates itself upon
an unseen hand pressing
an invisible re-play button?
tell me, my friend...
when will these
solidified shadows of twilight
dilute and dissolve
into a total darkness or
complete light?
24nov2009
07.30hra
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Sea Parting
The sea shall part before your eyes
And you will not learn of darkness.
The heart grows fond of this miracle
As length of the rivers do not match.
We are in safety, we are in a house
That worked upstairs and downstairs.
Some lights are delighting the company
In the house or palace of wonders.
This night the lights are out
With the sea parting forcing us to drown
With the lights off, with the house in floods.
The real saviour is the man in the house
Who is the landlord, the only warrior of water.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Face in the Mirror
She calls out to the face in the mirror
And runs her fingers down the varnished frame
Then she lights a cigarette and inhales deeply,
Leaving the lighter lit and staring into the flame.
The sun shines in through the half opened curtains
It lights up the room but not her face
The mirror still darkened as the face stands staring
Darkness wraps around her, concealing the empty space.
She never chased the dreams
Or ran through the morning light
She was never heard above the screams
She just hid in the darkness of the night,
With the face in the mirror.
Now the sun's gone down, she looks through the window
At the faces and places and motion below
The face in the mirror watches her shadow
As she sits on the window ledge waiting to go.
She sees cars drive by with their bright lights
She hears voices carrying away into the night
The face in the mirror incites her to jump
And she leaps and falls downwards flight after flight.
She never chased her dreams
Now she's chasing the ground
She wasn't heard above the screams
Now she doesn't make a sound,
And the face in the mirror smashes.
poem by Mark Hopwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mystical Rain
Beautiful lights that glare before me,
Magic delights you allow me to see.
Mystical Rain in the sky up above,
Mystical Rain throwing stardust of love.
A surreal sight as I stand and adore,
Leading the way - so that men reach the shore.
Mystical Rain in the air all around,
Mystical Rain making love without sound.
Marvelous specks of desire in my view,
Lightly you peck at my face like the dew.
Mystical Rain; blue metallic and green.
Mystical Rain; play your tune quite serene.
A show so alive as you dart through the sky,
Helping planes through the mist, where pilots do fly.
Mystical Rain; shine your light in my path.
Mystical Rain warm my heart; make me laugh.
poem by Angel Crabtree
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At the time...
A car pulled up, in front of a house, at four o'clock in the morning.
A man came out of the car, and stood in silence in the dark, dark dark.
Quiet as a mouse, a woman came out of the house, opened the gate and walked into a garbage bin, making a godawful clattering.
Drowsy neighbours, across the road, peeked out
from behind the nosy curtains of their boring bedroom.
But nothing happened, while the clouds moved on,
and the frail moonlight was well again.
Under a blanket of glittering stars, she handed him two suitcases
and he hurried 'round to open the boot but just then,
the toilet lights on the second floor came on.
The neighbours behind the curtains froze like statues.
Swiftly, the man and the woman crouched down behind the car.
In the quiet of the night, they could all hear the urine
gurgling long, loud and plenty into the toilet bowl.
Behind the car, the man and the woman started
groping and kissing and groping and kissing furiously.
The neighbours saw them do it by the light of the moon and stars.
When the toilet flushed, they quietly shut the boot,
tiptoed to the front, got into the car,
and the roar of the car engine died away.
The neighbours closed the curtains. Didn't say much.
Ate sandwiches and milk. Still couldn't sleep.
Started to make love loudly, as if to drown out forever
the drunken snoring beginning again
across the road.
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
(1989)
poem by Simmon Tan
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Nellie Takes Her Bow
Who thanked the lord for the clothes
That she wore and mended,
Nellie with the big old fashioned eyes
Who won the heart of a crowd
Tore apart, took a bow,
Nellie theres a different world backstage
(chorus:)
I see the flood lights burning
I hear the band play on
Now nellie takes her bow
She said she really could not stay
She had a brand new play to play
And so she paints her face and smiles
And shell be someone else in a while
(chorus)
Just a lonely girl who could not face a broken world,
And so she acts out all her dreams and wishes thats how it had been
But when the audience is near, it seems as though she doesnt even care.
(chorus)
Nellie just sent me a line to tell me she was doing fine
She got the lead and on broadway, and now theyre digging her today
And as she turns the final page, living
Someones life upon the stage
(chorus)
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Until The Silence Reigns
and so it happens
the clock strikes seven
you dream about curtains
catching flames
the house screams
and you discover you
are but a wall of this
structure
you look at the clock
on your side
it is seven
but seven what?
you get up from bed
and proceed to the CR
wash your face
feeling like a wall still
you rub the soap
and feel your cheek
you slap it
you feel like a wall
and the curtains continue to burn themselves
the house scream at its loud voice
you are still this wall
and you do not really care
to ash from ash
and to ash you shall return
there is no hurry no fright no panic
let death come with grace
the wall is flat and inanimate
let the curtains burn let the house scream
until the silence of the ash reigns
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Private Theatricals
A quite convincing axiom
Is, 'Life is like a play';
For, turning back its pages some
Few dog-eared years away,
I find where I
Committed my
Love-tale--with brackets where to sigh.
I feel an idle interest
To read again the page;
I enter, as a lover dressed,
At twenty years of age,
And play the part
With throbbing heart,
And all an actor's glowing art.
And she who plays my Lady-love
Excels!--Her loving glance
Has power her audience to move--
I am her audience.--
Her acting tact,
To tell the fact,
'Brings down the house' in every act.
And often we defy the curse
Of storms and thunder-showers,
To meet together and rehearse
This little play of ours--
I think, when she
'Makes love' to me,
She kisses very naturally!
. . . . . .
Yes; it's convincing--rather--
That 'Life is like a play':
I am playing 'Heavy Father'
In a 'Screaming Farce' to-day,
That so 'brings down
The house,' I frown,
And fain would 'ring the curtain down.'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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If The Audience Was Listening (demo 2)
If the audience was listening
When the curtains rise again
If i knew what's going on, just a part of your plan
If i had a bit of mind kick,
If the spirit unfurled
But i've only got a vision
A strange kind of world
In eternal isolation, for the sake of inspiration
And the stuff that dreams are made of
The jester takes the violin
And lets the poison flow
Insects whirr into the sky
& atlas dropped the earth u know
U wrote a 2. comedy
With all the nightmares u could feature
But i'm lying in my own world
Learning from my own world's creatures
If the audience was listening
Just for one more time
I could be more than a clown
Living more than a lie
But while i reel in the spotlights
The show must go on
My souffleuse is dead and i
Can't remember the song
In eternal isolation, for the sake of inspiration
And the stuff that dreams are made of...
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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