They sit with the pulsing anticipation
Every time the dilapidated
Comedian takes the stage wearing a wry smile.
Rustles of the mice beneath the stage,
An electric fan fumbling in its orbit,
They are waiting to laugh at gestures,
Thinking every little utterance is joke,
Your sentence will end with a tagline,
Something to play and roll in happy humor.
So when you say: "I no longer can chuckle
Even at the cracked mirror!"
They claps and whispers about other days of laugh.
You say that you have buried
Your remains long ago, under a mild stone.
Then, all they think while grinning
Is that you have spent your jokes.
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Comments: 21
This is great:
An electric fan fumbling in its orbit
I still don't care for the overuse of that, but that's my personal take on things.
As I said in the other place, I like how you portray people seeing what was, even when their eyes deny the memory.
Something to play and roll in happy humor.
So when you say: "I no longer can chuckle
bravo
your mind records
your words reflect
we enjoy your vision
Within this poem are many treasures for me in the imagery...especially the first twelve lines.
Wonderful imagery, my friend! An electric fan fumbling in its orbit,
They are waiting to laugh at gestures,
Thinking every little utterance is joke,
Your sentence will end with a tagline,
Something to play and roll in happy humor.
Loved this passage, especially!
Blessings ~
Rene