All my creative pursuits.
A poem by Meg Sorick
It’s a tired old story played on a broken down stage
Second rate performances by a third rate cast
When the end is no grand finale
The last scene concludes
With the actors running out of script
The stage lights dim as they stare
At the orchestra abandoning the pit
While a single, slow clap of applause
Echoes in the darkened theater
Header image: The Uptown Theater ~ Photo by Hidden City Philadelphia
Like blood that pools ’round the gaping wound
The crimson blossom sprouts from the ground
As the flesh decays and returns to dust
Becomes the cruelest sacrifice in a cause unjust
The body submits to Nature’s inevitable toil
Leaves its very essence to fertilize the soil
And so in the lonely, unmarked grave
The abundant poppies adorn the fallen brave
I haven’t been inspired to write poetry lately. (Be kind!) I wanted words to accompany my painting of Poppies in No Man’s Land. (Also be kind!!)
Old men who have foolish ideas and no self control
Old women who play the victim and sulk
Middle aged men who want to walk away
Middle aged women who live vicariously through their children
Brave young men who try to pick up the torch
Brave young women who fight for their rights
Children who have no idea what they’re in for
Babies who are innocently self absorbed
And last: the caretaker who overcharges for his services
All of them get on a speeding train
The tracks abruptly end six miles ahead
But the engineer jumps at the last minute
Preserving his life alone
The crowd observing this catastrophe
Congratulates him on a job well done
And he’s given the key to the city
Drinks on the house
As everyone turns their backs on the smoking ruin
This poem, if you want to call it that, is as close as I’ve ever come to automatic writing. You dear reader are welcome to interpret it any way you like.
Meg Sorick, Author/Artist 