As a child most curious,
As a film lover notorious,
My most fervent hope,
Kept as wishful interlope.
My most secret desire,
Furtive fantasies to inspire.
To go deep into the big city,
Old Boston, alluring, pretty.
To go alone, my skills to tax,
To see the film House of Wax.
First walk to town in broken shoes,
To catch the bus feeling the blues,
To the subway at Harvard Square,
Riding in fear on hope and a prayer.
After all I was but just a little tyke,
Only accustomed to ridin’ on my bike.
This was another realm altogether,
Now on my own in stormy weather.
How my heart pounded in my throat,
Adrift as I was like in an open boat.
The subway itself roared thru tunnels,
Dark and mysterious, conical funnels.
I took notice of all that was around me,
Nobody took any notice of little old me.
At Downtown Crossing we did disgorge,
Determined I was my path to forge.
Blood into my heart in a rush surged,
My inner compulsion forward urged.
The glorious film House of Wax waited,
Now at the door of the cinema fully sated.
The cinema in darkness, the lights low,
My head spun about in a phantom glow.
How did I get here awash in such fear,
Only my guardian angel to protect me near.
The film unreeled full of fire and brimstone,
The murdered wax figures standing as stone.
Casting lifelike attitudes for the public to see,
Who knew the truth but the audience and me.
The madman killer proved a notorious fiend,
Grinning unbearably, his lurid face beamed.
The power of film offers the ability to transport,
A ten-year-old child, his fantasies to extort.
The glorious horror of it all, the fear, the thrill,
I watched the end transfixed, I remember it still.
The ghastly wax figures melted in a flaming fire,
Everything burned up, their hair, their attire.
The madman Vincent Price in the end did expire,
The stunned audience rose from their seats to retire.
No one saw the little guy leaving the movie house,
Now safe and sound at home, as quiet as a mouse.
It seemed that in the last few days I suddenly grew;
I had made my way to town, a feat that only I knew.
THE IMAGERY IN THIS GEM IS FANTASTIC AND I WONDER...DID YOU EVER TELL ANYONE? I'M GUESSING YOU PROBABLY TOLD YOUR SISTER EVENTUALLY, BUT WHAT ABOUT MOM AND DAD? PERHAPS WHEN YOU WERE TOO OLD FOR THEM TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT? IN ANY CASE, THIS WAS A DARING ADVENTURE FOR A YOUNGSTER THAT WOULD NEVER LOSE HIS THIRST OR COURAGE TO EXPLORE THE UNKNOWN ON HIS OWN...NO WONDER YOU'RE TEACHING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD AND VERY CONTENT. ENJOYED MUCH AND THANKS FOR THE SHARE. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...NOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
The journey to see the film was a great adventure for you. And the movie lived up to your expectations. I bet you had some nightmares that night. After the movie "The Birds" I had nightmares for days.
In a poem you have told a story of your coming-of-age in such a delightful and somewhat frightful, way. And you showed another concern about riding the MTA!
I never saw the movie and never went to any of the many wax museums in the many touristy places that I've been. Did I miss something? I always thought the real thing was much better than a costumed manikin of the original. My forays into downtown were much later in life when I was attracted to exploring this seediest places with their attractions like movies I couldn't see anywhere else.
Great story. I haven't see the House Of Wax in a long time. I will now have to watch again after reading your poem. And Vincent Price was the master of horror films. Absolutely the best.
Great memory's well described. Like early horror; some motion pictures have left a lasting impression on me as well. The first 'Jaws' movie (1975), and 'Apocalypse Now' (1978) ruined me for a season.
Enjoyed this... r
At seven cents for a child my age I could walk through the portals and be scared half to death. It was something I loved. But home beckoned me as I scurried back to the familiar place, where I lay on the sofa replaying scene after scene.
I remember the first time I saw this movie as well although it was not my first solo adventure, you have well given me the time to remember them both, thank you John
You write with such detail its as if I was there too, that's what good writing expression does, well done John, seems like you were a brave one from the very start. Thanks for the sharing have a blessed day,
Perhaps "..Quiet Storm" will help rekindle old flames buried and long forgotten or express the love so deeply locked inside of your soul longing to be released.
Regardless of where you may be found in love this beautiful masterpiece can be
I never saw the movie and never went to any of the many wax museums in the many touristy places that I've been. Did I miss something? I always thought the real thing was much better than a costumed manikin of the original. My forays into downtown were much later in life when I was attracted to exploring this seediest places with their attractions like movies I couldn't see anywhere else.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane
Enjoyed this... r