The temporary show that we call life.
Film opens on …
A woman in the dressing room
Applying make up and in costume
Waiting for her cue to go onstage
Re-reading the script on crumpled page
She’s nervous and she should be
Consoling the mirror, young and pretty
The music jars and the crowds cheer
Swallow the excitement, bite on the fear
The scene approaches ,the lights unfocused
The audience waits and the actors pause
A climax to the plot
A story that many forgot
A drama , the tragedy and a star
Some king of comedy with faux-pas
A curtain call
The curtains fall
A story has ended
But the show must go on…
a word stuck out its tongue to me
i stuck it back
it did not rhyme
a feeling it burst inside my heart
it fought so strong
i beat through the pain
there is a time for it al but not now
when is it time for me?
that thought again
the lack of purpose
the loss of reason
no feeling of belonging
but a sense of waste
being left behind
are we only worthy of our productivity?
are you what you do?
can you respect yourself -jobless?
is there nothing more to you?
On Easter Day
The streets were dark on Saturday night,
The air was cold with a frigid fright,
A somber good Friday had left all in a gloom,
The murky skies could only spell doom.
As the townsfolk came all decked and ready,
The faith was kept thought the wind was not steady.
Old man Anderson puffing, cursed Easter,” A farce!”
The young padre dressed in white preparing for mass.
In Kolbad, little Nigel’s mama struggled to put on his tie
On Calvary, a man nailed to the cross ,he would die.
The altar was set and the choir had sung.
The parish joined in and the mass had begun.
But the skies thundered and the crowd shuddered with fear.
Old man Anderson fell asleep on rich sarcasm and stale beer.
As his pipe lit silk curtains all hope went up in orange flame,
Then the dreaded rain came down and whipped the fire tame.
The preacher preached and people,they knew the fullness of a new way.
On the 3rd day he shall rise and he is alive on Easter day.
Yolande D’Mello
