"showtunes" poems - Hello Poetry

the girl has her face removed and replaced with a plastic advertisement for bubble gum chew on my head she says with a slick smile and as she fades down an alley she is whistling an old Broadway showtunes she is reinventing herself from inside a box of cereal trips are for hippies there are gypsy's hanging round her door selling tickets to the dinner theatre of her self inflicted dreams the actors are picketing out front for better lines she took the best ones and rewrote them to resemble the life and times of sherlock holmes she disrobes her masked face and with a cautious shy smile envelops him with her presence her planned nature crafted to perfection without second thought without hesitation eats him alive from the inside still hungry she mingles in the crowd so she can steal their french fries and **** on their soda's she's celebrated and cheered as she mounts the stage her left handed shuffling fingers grasping the fundamentals of her mind but a weak grip on reality's slippery skin leads one the rabbit hole to delusions publicly lived standing in the worlds shadow talking to yourself laugh louder than the one next to you lest they think you weak minded and the small sounds at your ear is your free will escaping she lay down at the end of her day and with Aesop's fables wished herself away from this dinner theatre of the mad

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Oct 30, 2013

Oct 30, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC

mark-john-junor-1

dinner theatre of the mad

the girl has her face removed and replaced with a plastic advertisement for bubble gum chew on my head she says with a slick smile and as she fades down an alley she is whistling an old Broadway showtunes she is reinventing herself from inside a box of cereal trips are for hippies there are gypsy's hanging round her door selling tickets to the dinner theatre of her self inflicted dreams the actors are picketing out front for better lines she took the best ones and rewrote them to resemble the life and times of sherlock holmes she disrobes her masked face and with a cautious shy smile envelops him with her presence her planned nature crafted to perfection without second thought without hesitation eats him alive from the inside still hungry she mingles in the crowd so she can steal their french fries and **** on their soda's she's celebrated and cheered as she mounts the stage her left handed shuffling fingers grasping the fundamentals of her mind but a weak grip on reality's slippery skin leads one the rabbit hole to delusions publicly lived standing in the worlds shadow talking to yourself laugh louder than the one next to you lest they think you weak minded and the small sounds at your ear is your free will escaping she lay down at the end of her day and with Aesop's fables wished herself away from this dinner theatre of the mad

45

its been a month funny how time flies it seems only yesterday you were there laughing smiling holding my hand singing along to showtunes in the car we were happier than we had ever been i shouldve known it would end life has a hard-on for ******* me over ruining all the good in my life . . . whyd it happen to you of all people . . . we had a lot of plans college together an apartment in the city maybe getting married adopting a kid or two spending another thirteen years as best friends and then some but those plans never work out do they? . . . i dont know how ill move on . . . i listened to the cd the karaoke we did at the arcade two years ago livin on a prayer we were fifteen freshman in high school even when youre scream-singing you have an amazing voice had you had an amazing voice i envy the angels who hear you singing now save a song for me . . . i hope this finds you wherever you are i figured polaris would help . . . you are my home always have been always will be . . . farewell . . . ill see you soon

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May 25, 2019

May 25, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC

jls

a farewell, of sorts, addressed to polaris

its been a month funny how time flies it seems only yesterday you were there laughing smiling holding my hand singing along to showtunes in the car we were happier than we had ever been i shouldve known it would end life has a hard-on for ******* me over ruining all the good in my life . . . whyd it happen to you of all people . . . we had a lot of plans college together an apartment in the city maybe getting married adopting a kid or two spending another thirteen years as best friends and then some but those plans never work out do they? . . . i dont know how ill move on . . . i listened to the cd the karaoke we did at the arcade two years ago livin on a prayer we were fifteen freshman in high school even when youre scream-singing you have an amazing voice had you had an amazing voice i envy the angels who hear you singing now save a song for me . . . i hope this finds you wherever you are i figured polaris would help . . . you are my home always have been always will be . . . farewell . . . ill see you soon

67

Autumn squash soup sits on window sill of cardboard boxes. Pumpkin pie wafts down alleyway sits against a house. The earthy colored scarfs. The brown boots and the blue glow from the 360 degree moon. All look beautiful on you. The speed limit is 30 miles an hour here But i've been going 45 And I never look at my speedometer. When the cop lights shine behind me glowing white and red and blue I'm reminded why in fall, the color orange doesn't scare me. I get a knock knock on my window from a man dressed in blue. And when he asks me if i'm guilty i can't help but dream of you. It's still fall season. And I don't have snow tires yet. But the weather man in my head said i've got time. Mr. Officer in response to your question Yes, I know why you pulled me over. It seems that i'm on roadside trial for daydreaming. And that slightly blue glow from the 360 degree moon sure does look great against your blue suit. Mr. Officer. The color orange doesn't scare me. Pumpkin carving flicker glow Lantern guide you too your child home While your there is there a rope swing? Is the grass cut? Are you dreaming? Is there a pie in the windowsill? Because the baker inside. waits for me tonight. And i've been apple picking lazer tag Holding soft hands in a graveyard. Singing showtunes in our costumes that we struggled to sew together. Mr officer. Do you even like pie? Do you dream the scent and flavors? Does it linger in your mouth? Because to be honest I think I'm going to love her.

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Oct 27, 2015

Oct 27, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC

GeekElement

RoadSide Trial for Daydreaming

Autumn squash soup sits on window sill of cardboard boxes. Pumpkin pie wafts down alleyway sits against a house. The earthy colored scarfs. The brown boots and the blue glow from the 360 degree moon. All look beautiful on you. The speed limit is 30 miles an hour here But i've been going 45 And I never look at my speedometer. When the cop lights shine behind me glowing white and red and blue I'm reminded why in fall, the color orange doesn't scare me. I get a knock knock on my window from a man dressed in blue. And when he asks me if i'm guilty i can't help but dream of you. It's still fall season. And I don't have snow tires yet. But the weather man in my head said i've got time. Mr. Officer in response to your question Yes, I know why you pulled me over. It seems that i'm on roadside trial for daydreaming. And that slightly blue glow from the 360 degree moon sure does look great against your blue suit. Mr. Officer. The color orange doesn't scare me. Pumpkin carving flicker glow Lantern guide you too your child home While your there is there a rope swing? Is the grass cut? Are you dreaming? Is there a pie in the windowsill? Because the baker inside. waits for me tonight. And i've been apple picking lazer tag Holding soft hands in a graveyard. Singing showtunes in our costumes that we struggled to sew together. Mr officer. Do you even like pie? Do you dream the scent and flavors? Does it linger in your mouth? Because to be honest I think I'm going to love her.

34

dancing to Clair de Lune I dreamed of you choirs sing church bells ring waltzing in spring Debussy and Chopin mastered my childhood I loved them but I spent hours at the piano perfecting perfectionism a lesson my teacher made sure I'd never forget nightmares basked in the moon in the car age nineteen I cross the lines lyrics mean more to me open my eyes to sensuality non-conformity shades of gray and the blues once I only knew black and white keys now I see dissonant chords and improvisation what, not everything is planned and perfect? showtunes and musicals I gorged on the meat of their stories sweet delicacies the orchestra played music that never sounded more delicious night descends first love ends six years to mend drinking in Taylor's blend: acoustic pen melodious lullabies familiar comfort Celtic tunes of magical lands faraway Chinese songs of my parents' day they used to play when I wouldn't sleep as a baby and I fell asleep writing my way into healing years have passed take me back nocturnes bathed in moonlight dancing to Clair de Lune still I dream of you

0

Apr 15, 2020

Apr 15, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC

whimsicalwallflower

Life waltz

dancing to Clair de Lune I dreamed of you choirs sing church bells ring waltzing in spring Debussy and Chopin mastered my childhood I loved them but I spent hours at the piano perfecting perfectionism a lesson my teacher made sure I'd never forget nightmares basked in the moon in the car age nineteen I cross the lines lyrics mean more to me open my eyes to sensuality non-conformity shades of gray and the blues once I only knew black and white keys now I see dissonant chords and improvisation what, not everything is planned and perfect? showtunes and musicals I gorged on the meat of their stories sweet delicacies the orchestra played music that never sounded more delicious night descends first love ends six years to mend drinking in Taylor's blend: acoustic pen melodious lullabies familiar comfort Celtic tunes of magical lands faraway Chinese songs of my parents' day they used to play when I wouldn't sleep as a baby and I fell asleep writing my way into healing years have passed take me back nocturnes bathed in moonlight dancing to Clair de Lune still I dream of you

48

All of us are music. Living breathing compositions. Some are jazz. All bright colors and playful vibrancy mixed with a sultry sumptuous purr . Some are Blues. Deep down colors and aching longing mixed with a quiet wailing rumble. Some are Rock. Primary colors and down home feel mixed with cruisin with the windows down and karaoke. Some are Heavy metal. Reflective silvers, polished steels mixed with screaming wires and fierce feral growls. Some are Alternative. Contrasting secondary colors and experimentation mixed with mystery box wonder and quizzical quirkiness. Some are Classical. Black and white colors of perfection mixed with full bodied timelessness. Some are Pop. Vibrant pastel colors of youth and innocence mixed with bursting bubblegum bubbles and giddy dancy hope Some are Showtunes. Lighted colors of exaggeration mixed with bravado and intensity Some are Opera. Red hues of passion and heart mixed with pushing vocal limits and whole body overtures and ovations. All of which run through the current of ‘soul’. Show yours. Feel yours. Sing yours. Whatever you do, do it with soul.

0

Feb 12, 2018

Feb 12, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC

Fumbletongue

Compositions

All of us are music. Living breathing compositions. Some are jazz. All bright colors and playful vibrancy mixed with a sultry sumptuous purr . Some are Blues. Deep down colors and aching longing mixed with a quiet wailing rumble. Some are Rock. Primary colors and down home feel mixed with cruisin with the windows down and karaoke. Some are Heavy metal. Reflective silvers, polished steels mixed with screaming wires and fierce feral growls. Some are Alternative. Contrasting secondary colors and experimentation mixed with mystery box wonder and quizzical quirkiness. Some are Classical. Black and white colors of perfection mixed with full bodied timelessness. Some are Pop. Vibrant pastel colors of youth and innocence mixed with bursting bubblegum bubbles and giddy dancy hope Some are Showtunes. Lighted colors of exaggeration mixed with bravado and intensity Some are Opera. Red hues of passion and heart mixed with pushing vocal limits and whole body overtures and ovations. All of which run through the current of ‘soul’. Show yours. Feel yours. Sing yours. Whatever you do, do it with soul.

13