I stopped to try and see
What the crowd were staring at.
Who, or what had attention
Unlike I'd seen before.
We were quiet people,
At least to strangers.
Never welcoming,
Always suspicious.
Perhaps that is why we loved it.
It or him?
Him or it?
A man, alive but dead.
Breathing but still.
Was it art?
Begging? He collected money,
But it was an act.
He entertained.
We watched eagerly.
Some tried to spoil it,
Make him move
Make it fall.
Others just dismissed it
Simple street trick.
But I watched
Almost as still as him.
And imagined he watched me too.
We stood there, poised
In position, waiting
For what, who knows?
I dropped first
I knew I would.
He was just too good,
It was his craft.
I'd become an admirer
Miming his moves
Ironically so.
Then he vanished
One lonely night
I presume to a new town
But I like to think a different way
For it's just too sensible for him.
A contest entry
- Imagination by Kay Laon Anders.
600 points, ended December 27, 2006, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Captivating!
I love how you make the reader feel like they are in the moment with you. A special Talent!
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Love it
Your expression is priceless...it was like I was standing there taking part in this moment and I thank you for it....I have never actually seen a mime in person...I think it would be neat....great write
KAY
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