The Show Goes On - Grant Lenz
The show goes on,
whether despair or trouble awaits.
For it is not long
until the hint of excitement strikes.
The lights go on and the show dawns;
mere words become reality.
Clinging to the perceptions of our reality,
we see fantasized beings live on.
The gleaming spotlight dawns;
it awaits,
the twisted tale that strikes
the bewilderment that grows long.
Down the long,
timeless endeavor, we see a spark of reality.
As it too strikes
a chord on
which our own conscience awaits.
The reflection of our disposition dawns.
And in the midst of contemplation, dawns
the poet, too, whose long
dialogue awaits
a reflection of reality.
What’s left are melancholy avenues to travel on;
until the sudden juncture strikes.
Behold! The orchestra strikes
an unhindered rage by which dawns
our eccentric spirit. We play on,
but the curtain falls. Applause! The bows! For those who labor long
against the reality
that exhausts their fantasy live with merciless anguish. Its darkness awaits.
The destiny of our fate awaits--
death. The crew strikes
the set upon which we once doubted our unchanging reality.
In the dark of the cold, black stage dawns
emptiness--long--
and what lives move on.
Still stands the curtain, the shell of imagination that awaits
a new sensation. Until its light dawns.
Now strikes
a tale to grow long.
Now is born a new reality.
The show must go on.
whether despair or trouble awaits.
For it is not long
until the hint of excitement strikes.
The lights go on and the show dawns;
mere words become reality.
Clinging to the perceptions of our reality,
we see fantasized beings live on.
The gleaming spotlight dawns;
it awaits,
the twisted tale that strikes
the bewilderment that grows long.
Down the long,
timeless endeavor, we see a spark of reality.
As it too strikes
a chord on
which our own conscience awaits.
The reflection of our disposition dawns.
And in the midst of contemplation, dawns
the poet, too, whose long
dialogue awaits
a reflection of reality.
What’s left are melancholy avenues to travel on;
until the sudden juncture strikes.
Behold! The orchestra strikes
an unhindered rage by which dawns
our eccentric spirit. We play on,
but the curtain falls. Applause! The bows! For those who labor long
against the reality
that exhausts their fantasy live with merciless anguish. Its darkness awaits.
The destiny of our fate awaits--
death. The crew strikes
the set upon which we once doubted our unchanging reality.
In the dark of the cold, black stage dawns
emptiness--long--
and what lives move on.
Still stands the curtain, the shell of imagination that awaits
a new sensation. Until its light dawns.
Now strikes
a tale to grow long.
Now is born a new reality.
The show must go on.
Grant states, "The Show Goes On' was inspired by my passion for theatrical arts."
Grant is in 12th grade at Regina High School. Two of the editors that are currently apart of the theater department at Buena Vista University really appreciated this poem and felt all the emotions the author was conveying through the theatrical arts.
*Picture provided by Pexels
Grant is in 12th grade at Regina High School. Two of the editors that are currently apart of the theater department at Buena Vista University really appreciated this poem and felt all the emotions the author was conveying through the theatrical arts.
*Picture provided by Pexels