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
never sorry.
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.
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.
Woof. The puppet rests but is not dead. Practice makes perfect in a dirty world. Patrick
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
Reviewed on May 1, 2011
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.
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,
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. Vegas (Reader)
Reviewed on April 30, 2011
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.
Always,
Deborah
Wise, poignant choice of words. Tinged with a profound sadness because of how we can at once identify with both sides of the stage.
Blessings,
Christine
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.
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
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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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
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.
John
Regis
No puppet here; I prefer to pull the strings. -gene,
now and then...trying to please...doing
whatever is asked of you...not saying a
word...just like a puppet.
Always,
Deborah
Blessings,
Christine
I realized I am a recovering puppet,some suffer more than others.nicely written.
Cheers
Alain Gracio
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