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A puppet’s never sorry,
it just lies there, like a smiling corpse:
it is not dead, nor is it alive,
an imitation of life -
I wonder what it must be like
to feel empty inside,
I guess that’s why a puppet’s
There is a humble stage
and an old curtain with dusty ropes,
but you say: “never mind the dirt,
practice your art with self-discipline,
practice your art in the middle of the dirt:
you can only keep learning with a humble heart”.
Can I animate an inanimate object,
insufflate life into a stiff toy?
From the edge of the stage
I conduct each performance
and each time, how I learn and I grow,
while the puppet’s dead when I am not there,
backstage, where it’s dark and there’s a damp smell -
Rats scratch the box where the creature languishes,
indifferent in its inert world.
I guess that’s why a puppet’s never sorry.
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|Reviewed by Douglas Bentley
|Your puppet of wood
Mine of dust
Yours' end in ashes
Mine back to earth
I brought nothing into this world but my mouth and ears
But out of your ashes flowers will appear
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|Couldn't help the word game when i first saw the title,
Scrabble times of adolescence breaking through:
-oppe- -ries- - acke- ocke- -lian- -unne- -ulle-...
never mind; to this work itself: direct wording,
reflective but stark and the truth of it right
in my face, and such truth. We are the hollow men,
the stuffed men, the empty men, 'like a smiling corpse' -
that is saying it, Axilea.
|Reviewed by Patrick Granfors
|Woof. The puppet rests but is not dead. Practice makes perfect in a dirty world. Patrick|
|Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
|i feel like you could be talking about the president of the united states. but seriously, to me this reminds of the many surrogate personas we inflate and deflate many times throughout life, sometimes finding our true selves and other times just subdivided amongst them, a million different pieces all seeking to make themselves whole again. excellent poetry.|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|That is some perspective that you have presented through your verses here, Axilea. Substance to reflect upon. I feel like that puppet sometimes. Thank you. Love and best wishes,
|Reviewed by Christine Alwin
|What a performance this is..amazing how a puppet can be so alive to amuse..then so lifeless, captivated me with this one Axilea~|
|Reviewed by Gene Williamson
|You tell your puppet tale with great skill (an Axilea trait).
No puppet here; I prefer to pull the strings. -gene,
|Reviewed by Ed Matlack
|Well, I can identify with the puppet with regards feeling empty inside, at times...its not a life long wish for anyone or thing...e|
|Reviewed by D. Vaineo
|Axilea, Yet, we all have been a puppet
now and then...trying to please...doing
whatever is asked of you...not saying a
word...just like a puppet.
|Reviewed by Alan Abrams
|this at once lifts the strings of my shoulders, and humbles my heart|
|Reviewed by Christine Tsen
|Wise, poignant choice of words. Tinged with a profound sadness because of how we can at once identify with both sides of the stage.
|Reviewed by stan nassano
|Axilea, i was painfully,yanked awake while reading your first line when,
I realized I am a recovering puppet,some suffer more than others.nicely written.
|Reviewed by Liana Margiva
|VERY NICE!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva|
|Reviewed by George MacLean Akurunwa
|Nice twist, thanks.|
|Reviewed by Alain Gracio
|I liked the flow of the poem. I think Geppeto knew what he was getting into. But if you need a puppet let me know (just kidding)
|Reviewed by Charlie
|I think a puppet's world must be very complicated. Imagine that at any given time someone could yank your strings and make you do anything, whether you want to or not. They might stick you in a box with rats, put words in your mouth, that you have to pretend to say with a smile-- It makes a body glad they can't feel that. Imagine if they could!
Imagine that someone made your poor Pinocchio stay up late last night and watch some sappy 70's flick called "Love Story". He hears that famous line, "love means never having to say you're sorry", and then the very next day, his puppeteer makes him say "Sorry" during a one-act play, starring his very own self, and then his nose starts growing because it was a lie-- because he doesn't really feel anything, so how could he possibly be sorry. I be that would be embarrassing-- but then again, he wouldn't feel that either, would he... wood he? Me, I would never want to be a puppet-- or a puppeteer for that matter. But I have been both. At the same time. It was a sorry act. --Charlie