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Johnny walker Jan 19
They always say you can remember where you where the day when someone famous passes away  
I remember the day
Elvis Presley died It was about 8 pm I sat eating a fish and chip
supper
When It was announced
by Tony prince radio DJ simply said Elvis Is dead
he like me was a big fan
at that time Elvis was my life
Every a new album that was released I was there
to buy so much a part of my life
I was saving money
to go to America to see a live performance but sadly that never did happen
But when that announcement came on the radio It was If light had gone from life It really
was the day the music
died
But even today when I play Elvis records or watch his
recorded live performances he still has the same Impact he could draw you to
him
he was  magnetic don't believe or ever will be another the likes of him we will never see  again a true great
My personal take a truly great performer my opinion the best there's ever been the likes we'll never see again
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
I’m the entertainer,
So nobody will touch me.
The truth be told
They don’t think much of me.
I’m paid to be here
Not like the shimmering guests.
They take their pay in champagne
And believe they’re better than the rest.

I perform for them, smiling,
I show them a happy face,
And do my very best to make
An evening they’ll never replace.
I make music and joy all night
And make sure to be grateful
If someone leaves a tip in the jar.
Maybe tonight will be fateful.

But probably I’ll go home
Alone and completely forgotten.
They’re a beautiful basket of fruit,
But too many have gone rotten.
It’s not that they are evil people,
It’s just that they don’t care.
I am the background music
Doing something, somewhere.

It makes perfect sense to me,
They didn’t come here for this;
To revel in the brilliance I will show.
They’ll never know what they miss.
They won’t even notice it
Unless there’s a song they really love.
It’s almost performing for myself
And letting my talent rise above.

So, I perform for them, smiling,
I show them a happy face,
And do my very best to make
An evening they’ll never replace.
I make music and joy all night
And make sure to be grateful
If someone leaves a tip in the jar.
Maybe tonight will be fateful.
Graff1980 Feb 2018
What a dashing figure,
shirt unbuttoned halfway
as he delivered
his lines with grace.
However, this is not a *** man’s appraisal
of another man’s handsome face,
but a straight and secure observation,
a poet’s reflection
informed by the actor’s
performance.
Derrek Faraday Sep 2017
The boy was driving out
Before he forgot himself
“What did I believe”, he cried out,
“On the bookshelf?”

But it was awful chilly, it was
For an afternoon
So he turned to friends, but spoke none 'cause
A mouth don’t fit on a loon

Biding time with a droopy eye
And changed his name again
Goes by a fool with a cool catch
To earn his name on cement

He is the son of summer
Winter at his feet
Doesn't remember forgetting his innocence
No matter who he meets

Yes, ma'am, thats's a dual voice you hear
He seeks high fidelity
Fully faithful, a sun-fearing *****
The caricature to be

On the stage, the things that he wrote
Those memories bygone
Come crashing down on him and he can't emote
The clown's not having fun

Finding time with a droopy eye
And changed his name yet again
Goes by a fool with a cool catch
To earn his name on cement

He is the son of summer
Winter at his feet
Doesn't remember forgetting his innocence
No matter who he meets

Praise be to cherry pie
And all the faces that made me feel that I
Could settle on "by and by"

Praise be to anyone
That put me under the blistering sun
I'll get back there, its true

I just got more to do
Seanathon Jul 2017
Tonight I get to do what I was meant to do
To be who I was meant to be
And although every eyeball in every line of sight may be fixated on me
For an hour or so
That doesn’t change the fact that I
Was meant to step out this stage and to bend like a bow
As I did in the days of old
Such talent is still stretched within me
That I should perform, and that I should play, most doggedly
Until the finely threaded twine within my mind begins to unwind
And I am straight as an arrow hence
Laying on the table before, how I once had said
That I hope I can return once more for that again
But not for this I said
Not for this
Sometimes you need to stop before you can keep going. *nod nod*
ryn Apr 2017
He presents what you see
with impeccable finesse.
He hides everything else behind the curtains.
Heavily veiled by his smiles...
Cleverly masked behind his script.

He stands elevated, taking his stage.
From his vantage he sees all.
He allows his facade to bask in the light...
Whilst keeping his back in the shadow.

He's renowned.
By the light that kills the dark.
He's addicted to the nightly ovations,
cascading cheers and gleaming reviews.

But every show has an end.
Come every dawn, he wakes to the reality
that tolls at his door.
He's owned and he knows it...
Too well,
by the stage he built
and the drama he wrote and casted.
Sometimes I sit in my room
On my bed
And I cry.
I cry for the longing,
For the wanting,
For the need to be on stage.

I want to do so many things.
I want to perform,
I want to be able to belt those notes,
I want to show the world what I have,
I want to march up to everyone that told me I couldn’t and say
“I did it.”

I want to prove them all wrong,
I want to surprise everyone.
They’ll say,
“How did this random southern lady get here?”
And then they’ll hear me sing,
They’ll watch me act,
They’ll see me dance,
And then they’ll say,
“This is where this random southern lady belongs,
On stage with the best of the best.”

I will get there, on that stage.
But until then,
I will keep wanting,
And longing.
I will cry
As I sit on my bed,
In my room.
TJLC Jun 2016
How the body

of the dancer

Moves with

Grace
and
Elegance

Eyes with make-up, closed while performing.
The only audience to the dancer are
One's heart and one's soul.
An attempt to make an imagery poem. Trying to describe how performers, in general, feel on stage. To express one's feelings as a performer on stage is a fresh experience all the time.
Lark Train May 2016
Fire rising in my cheeks
Fanned by insignificance
The work I do is never known
Since I'm not on stage to dance.
I didn't choose the tech life.

The tech life choose me
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