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You were right; the lead's a better stayer
A weak imitating understudy
The Director's sure I am no player
Hidden in the wings slashed and bloody
You were right exacting your impression
Knives are like that in the way of butter
Liars make less classic their confession
Their heart's restriction, the merest utter
You were right, audience demands return
Although it's possible I've misconceived
Of this timeless place in which I sojourn
Adoration denied becomes bereaved
In this theatre of dreams, in which we are cast
Can a future be derived from the past?
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Not to mention the present. Theatrically presented and classically formatted.
I tried the last line of stanza 2 as
'Their heart's restriction the merest utter(-ance)'
as I felt that the original is a little week. I don't normally do that sort of thing but Boonrassi has been critiqueing a few of my short stories and I seem to have started looking at different things in poems and stories.
Just a thought. Imo it's very good, works out loud and asks questions.
Cheers, Tony - Grae
