"spotlit" poems
The play is written to be staged in a pub or a large cave like yurt in Cardiff. Its action and dialogue provides characterisation, with sound and lighting being used to establish context. The setting a darkened pub corner that is modelled on The Bunch of Grapes in Pontypridd. There are only 6 characters, five speak in haiku-ed verse with the exception of the Drunk who acts as my 'Greek Chorus'.
- Hand-in-hand she enters to **** her thumb in a corner
- Chocolate ice cream soda demanded from Daddy
- Joking banter ceased slowly as the regulars all begin to quaff their brown pints
“Balll uut eass swept -
Chimrrrrr, Chiirriica,
war is never won”
- Church quiet, the village pub listened lips clamped tears swelling
“ ***** cut swapped with eyes -
Chimerica, Chimerica,
war is never won”
- The cornered hero of two Afghanistan tours is seen regressing into childhood**
The set darkens slowly then after 30 seconds a spotlit conversation in lines and stanzas begins.
Haiku and tanka that inspired the coming play include:
*********** -
thoughts sought, taught and wrought,
testosterones
Fighting aggressive games,
Afghanistan camouflage
Globalism and War -
cloned greedy conspiracy,
that third tower
Titled selfish-self-grandiose,
deliver warring terror
Springs cut Irises -
dripping vital red not purple,
far from my window*
.
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 11:11 AM UTC
crimson Poison Apples drop off Burning
Bridges into Murky Waters
red with rust swirling swirling
she cries as her father's fists curling
beat Seeds of Suspicion into
her Reckless heart
bleeding bruises art art
runs and hides but stands alone
pleading begging moan moan
her shoes are jimmy choo
she whispers secrets to herself
"I Just Wanted to be Me"
but the King of Hearts is Out for
Blood
scarlet laughter piercing darkness
growling stomach fight fight
tears flow and flood the night
and she is Shrinking away
Coming Out to the show
blinding bright in the glow glow
spotlit on a blackened stage
forced to perform Circus Acts
remembering when she was-was what?-nothing
Prom Queen twirling twirling
"Look" -hearts in a sea of ****** silk-
but the only one looking is
The Collector
hoarding up stories of rosy misery
Mean Colors dancing in cruel red eyes
sneer and cry and lie lie
their Psychic Powers forcing isolation into her veins
like a Blood Borne killer
she is just fading away until the Song in Her
Heart is just a hum of amazing grace
life thought gone forever
lives
on
as
the
tears
of
friends
remake
her
memories
she is buried in a glass casket under
grey skies The Red Dress she wears
without a care care
flashy crimson
sunset
ruby
apple
scarlet
blood
pain
love
life
soul
RED
vibrant in dead fields
life thought gone forever
lives
on
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
startle cracks
and curtain calls
my eyelids back
diaphanous dropped
and veils up
dewy bloom spotlit
monkeysuit chauffeur
denigrated daily
scratch behind his ears
you're doing OK
just mistook
vehicle for passenger
relax in seat back
let clear and present ever
steer biospheric lit
allow etheric hum
up the bony ladder
to outlook attic
bindi blinds lift
pretty bitchin'
46-bit binoculars
these holy puppet
hands have got
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC
I wanted to write about
The first
Time I saw a spotlight
And knew what it meant
It was in a theater
And
Smoke machines blew
The light into existence a light
I had never seen before the spotlights
They circled cut paths I couldn’t
Follow
Define
Shining through the smoke
Light made color made smoke made real
It wasn’t the light I saw it was the smoke spotlit but it was
Only the light I knew
Saw
Could see
Until I thought of driving
Home
Late one night in the front seat and falling asleep
As our headlights cut through the fog
And knowing if I could just
Crawl through the window and
Sit on the hood of the
Car and reach out my foot and stand
on the fog-beam I would
Be carried somewhere more comfortable than the
One crick-necked nook
I had found that would
Let me fall asleep dreaming of
Crawling through windows. I wanted
To write about that first time,
When I watched the spotlights draw symbols
A cuneiform language only the smoke could read and how the
Smoke danced and I realized
The only way to shine is to be
So
Small
That you cannot cast a shadow,
That everything casts a shadow that
To shine you must block something else from shining
Because we are not suns
We are not
We are small and
Lonely
moons.
But what if we were so small we didn’t have to be?
We could be dust and smoke and
The light could dance through us
Together
And we would dance through it
And bring it to life
Write in a language only
We can read as we swim through ourselves
Ourselves the light we’re swimming through
Light is only light until it hits the dust
The dust makes the beam
Be small with me and build beams of light in a small theater
Hall where the dust has
Collected where
We have collected
Ourselves.
That is what I wanted to write
About but as I watched the
Beams moving
And learned the smoke of a
Dusty theater-room
And how it dances
Even after the light leaves it,
It must, even though
I
Cannot see
It, because it is
Always ready always
Dancing when the light arrives
The dust is a beam of light
Waiting
To be built, a boat
Waiting
To breathe an ocean into
Existence and float
Through it and
Be rocked
By it and
Be
It, is
What I wanted to write about but
As I watched the beams
Moving one
Met my eye
And
The smoke vanished
And
The beam vanished
And
There was nothing
But the light
Staring at me
Ripping my shadow
Out of me and
Hurling it behind me only
For a second
An angry and
Vengeful second who are you to
Tell me that I need the dust?
You are not a sun
You are barely a moon you are
So small
So
small
And still you cast a shadow you
Take from me
Use me
Know yourself
Build your world
By me with me through me
And you sit
In this dusty theater hall
So small
And want to write
That it is dust that makes the beam?
No smoke machine could
Blow the light into
Existence what would you call
Smoke if there was no light to
Pass through it to
Light it breathe it into
Existence now
Sit
Lonely and selfish
moon
And watch the show.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
crimson Poison Apples drop off Burning
Bridges into Murky Waters
red with rust swirling swirling
she cries as her father's fists curling
beat Seeds of Suspicion into
her Reckless heart
bleeding bruises art art
runs and hides but stands alone
pleading begging moan moan
her shoes are jimmy choo
she whispers secrets to herself
"I Just Wanted to be Me"
but the King of Hearts is Out for
Blood
scarlet laughter piercing darkness
growling stomach fight fight
tears flow and flood the night
and she is Shrinking away
Coming Out to the show
blinding bright in the glow glow
spotlit on a blackened stage
forced to perform Circus Acts
remembering when she was-was what?-nothing
Prom Queen twirling twirling
"Look" -hearts in a sea of ****** silk-
but the only one looking is
The Collector
hoarding up stories of rosy misery
Mean Colors dancing in cruel red eyes
sneer and cry and lie lie
their Psychic Powers forcing isolation into her veins
like a Blood Borne killer
she is just fading away until the Song in Her
Heart is just a hum of amazing grace
life thought gone forever
lives
on
as
the
tears
of
friends
remake
her
memories
she is buried in a glass casket under
grey skies The Red Dress she wears
without a care care
flashy crimson
sunset
ruby
apple
scarlet
blood
pain
love
life
soul
RED
vibrant in dead fields
life thought gone forever
lives
on
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
It feels better
than space-cakes
You're spotlit
in my sight
When we
are 'we'
we're so fine
It's not
special
you're not
special
we were
never special
It just felt
that way
for a time
Now I
close one eye
find you
diminished, dry
Then
the other- you're
special, mine
The inside
of my head
is winking
And I still
can't see you
in 3D
Misaligned
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 2:44 AM UTC
Row upon row, I saw them, instantly, ‘I did’,
shuffled bodies bulged past me, they ‘did not’.
Fingers, lived to touch, light dim in part,
not here, spotlit, it said “Do not touch”,
how can I know? Disobedient held
up in my palm, angling my hand
this way, that way. It happened then,
our grey blue pupils, like full stops, clung,
I did not know it would be a memory pocket.
A sentence in time snatched my happy face,
fear bought me. Under my skin, groping pins
pricking the base of my neck pushed into my skull.
Spun, bumping bodies smelling of beached waves,
hard gulps, sweat caught in between my fingers.
It was time to tie up loose thoughts, forget
I pushed away with speed, in a strange place,
street, shop, where was I? Where are you?!
By your side in safe sofas, I hand swung
down the banister, released the bolt,
safety catch hanging...and gone....
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
You possess a crystal heart,
One I have admired
Many times,
It sits just out of reach
Inviting my gaze.
Like a boy at a store window
With iced frosting,
Blowing steamy breath
And rubbing it free of the grime
I have deposited on it,
I gaze at the prize,
A treasure to be had,
Like key fobs or
Combs;
You are the magi
Who carries the gift.
The window is dark
Except for the spotlit
Center,
The object of my desire
And hope,
The pearl of great price
I will give all to possess.
Oct 17, 2023
Oct 17, 2023 at 5:22 PM UTC
...At this evening nigh-tide, reptilian
brain bites back instinctively.
I am forgiven in all Houses...all postulations
bloat these blue veins.
Daguerreotype pictures cake their ashen
backdrop, that assures the comely smile
of cosmic forbearance.
As if these lips would dematerialize in search
of utterance.
Not for the entrained speakeasy of spotlit
here and now...but the energetic pulse tugged
at both ends of tongue.
The final straw struck back, to ingratiate the
greatest of pilgrimages.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
Drying grasses climb the hillsides,
dotted with fall’s hues: saffron, lavender, rust.
Below lies an orchard--trees holding York Imperials,
ripe for the picking.
Branches meander, intertwine, and cross.
Some bow low to extend their offerings;
others strain to hide a Golden Delicious
overhead, out of reach.
The trees’ leaves darken, harden, and curl.
Feet fall upon those that have
drifted to the ground; the crunch
mimics the apple’s crisp bite.
The Rome Beauties are dimpled and pock-marked,
their surfaces spotlit by the sun.
Fist-sized with sloping sides
and bobbing heads--dangling, waiting.
Aside from the worm-claimed and the decayed,
the pick is yours.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
i entered into
a sensuality, like
a spotlit seagull
pushed thru a sky-sake's
blue.
flapping over
a landscape of abandoned
bodies.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 2:53 AM UTC
...Brightly broken...
lumine-go round,
~Always~
wound one
wend away...
the
Spotlit Circle.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
Taut
Tight
wired and light,
tonight I'm going to take the car
tonight I may or not get far but
I have to go,
have to blow these cobwebs from my head,
quick or dead but under par
tonight
I'm going to take the car but first,
burst the bubble that I'm in,
begin to slake my thirst for all things that will end and in the end,
begin to start
begin to break apart the chain that tightens up
around my brain,
start the car,
taut and tight,not wired right but tonight's the night.
In the finding of unwinding I am wound up tighter than before,
the night becomes a bolted door
and I the rabbit in the spotlight where lurchers hound me,
spooling free
I'm in the car
not very far from where I start and find my heart just isn't in it
spotlit as I am,
still the rabbit
not the man.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
Non erasable, maligned
"sin"...light ****** by
the darkened contours
of a face.
Providence spotlit on
sight...sun...daily bread
rising.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
Brokenhearted and distraught
your eyes like rifles
loaded and cocked
enraged and disgusted
with their whites blood shot
You aim your gaze
when the lever engaged
and depart from the room
like the white waters rush
All your rage hung around the house
it lingers like soot clung
to a burnt out fire pit
Soon I'll be begging for
your return if
not by midnight when the candle burns out
You're back-and-forth always pacing
scattered like the wind blown rain,
but your image is quickly beginning to fade
with storm shadows racing
across moonlit drapes
sliding as darkness frayed from the shade
Nightmares adjust to the crest of day
plunging over the steepening cusp
of a burnt orange skyline slipping
from the horizon into tomorrow's dusk
Air inhaled as oxygen
has failed your breath now poisonous
The iron in your blood
corrodes metallic
flaking fragments settled in rust
Smoke lingers on the wall
clinging like a frameless picture
cockeyed and covered in dust,
with loosened staples brushed to the floor,
blackened as pieces briskly
burn into a crust
Sunlight reaches through a slit in the curtain
reflecting off of floating debris
spotlit against this grey smokescreen
Fire bellows between
load bearing walls,
bathing in kerosene cider and bourbon
Stay engaged despite an
eyeful of rage
staring down the barrel of a rifle's gaze,
assuredly fueling this fire to the
brightest and bluest of flames
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 6:02 AM UTC