With the smell of breaking bones.
A cry out to humanity. "For God's sake, hold your cup without your thumb!"
When lives intersect with no rhythm, no rhyme, no reason at all.
Except, perhaps, a passing semi.
All we do is sit, wait, and die.
This is life, get over it.
All the world's a stage. Or so "they" say, as you trip and fall right on cue.
We act on impulse.
Swallowing the bottle,
Cutting a little deeper,
and putting the gun to our chest,
As the stage curtains fall.
A contest entry
- Theater-in-the-Round by Gossamer Guile.
600 points, ended August 8, 2007, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Interesting.I like how you did not take the theater theme literally. All the world's a stage...what a fresh take on the old phrase. The end was especially effective in my mind. Great write, and thank you for entering.
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