Wednesday, 27 June 2012

Theatre On A Damask Tablecloth

Sometimes I reflect on the world we live in, find reality and illusion merging into one sad and beautiful work of and, oh, so long to hear someone say, ‘Okay, that’s not bad. Now let’s start again, and see if we can't do better.’


A champagne twilight, reflections
in a beggar’s eye

Trees, glittering like chandeliers
at some charity gala

Dove, letting rip with the passion
of a diva to the gods

Jack Frost, shinning up drainpipes
to peep in windows

Men and women, running scared
of anxious ghosts

Boys and girls, keeping company
with fantasy fictions

Shadows, like missiles homing in
on suspect targets

Enter stars, ready to cry over spilt
milk on our pillows
[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

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