You are a feeling.
The involuntary movement
My body makes when it steps
On a broke-down escalator.
Subtle yet uncontrollable.

You are a sense.
The smell in the air
When the rain comes down
On a warm day in May.
Burning strange yet familiar.

You are a sight.
The way someone seems
When I look at them
With one eye closed.
Distant yet near.

You are a contradiction.
So utterly right
But equally wrong.
Too close for comfort,
But too far for joy.

Advertisements

Bad Poetry

August 18, 2009

If I wrote bad poetry
And carved it on an old oak tree
Tell me baby, would you see
How much you mean to me?

And if I thought up silly rhymes,
And sung them at you all the time
Tell me baby, would you mind?
Or would you say ‘be mine?’

Or if I wrote a song of old
With lyrics like ‘you rock my world!’
Tell me baby, could I be bold
Or would you still be cold?

Cos you know I’m gonna keep on writing,
At least till you give up your chiding
And admit to me you like the rhyming,
Or at least give me credit for trying.

Cat/Man

August 18, 2009

This cat is alone
Like me
Alone on an empty street
And he is lost
Like me
Lost and alone on a dark empty street.

This cat has no tail
Not like me
I have tales aplenty to tell
Tales of love and theft
Tales I could never have guessed
Until tonight.

This cat just wants affection
Like me
A companion.
And we share a moment
Momentarily alone no more
This cat and I.

And then he’s leaving
Off into the empty night.
He doesn’t need me
And I don’t need him.
But for that moment
The world seemed alright.

Eliot was an idiot.
The cruellest months
are those when the sun shines.
It’s then that I feel the pressure
to somehow live up to the weather.

Owed to a Smile

August 18, 2009

I’ll tell you of a girl I know
Who’s able, if you’re feeling low
To speak to you for just a while
And send your soul into a smile.

Each wave of golden honey thread
That tumbles from atop her head
Floods all the room in tides of light
And colours in the empty night.

And though her eyes may threaten tears
Her smile forgets me of my fears.
Oh may that face forever shine
To light her life, and yours, and mine.

A Poem For You

August 18, 2009

I was ready to drop them all
For you
Throw them overboard and drown them
For you
And I hate myself for it but I’d do it
For you
Just tell me true, how long must I wait
For you

Time and the Conways

August 9, 2009

Saw this show at the National the other day, and although i’ve never written a review before, there are some thoughts I’d like to share. (Spoilers ahead)

Overall, I was quite impressed by the acting. Playing old people is something I’ve done a bit of this year, and so it was interesting to see the actors handle playing the same characters in their 20s and then in their 40s. There was a mix of quite bold characterisation on the one hand, particularly from Hattie Morahan and Mark Dexter, compared to the the more subtle performances of say Paul Ready or Alistair Petrie and I think the latter was on the whole more succesful; the play itself isn’t exactly subtle, so I think it needed that grounding that some of the performers gave it. Saying that, I found the first appearance of the older Kay (Hattie Morahan) incredibly sad: just seeing the effect that time had had on the enthusiastic young girl of act 1, turning her into a bitter, cynical, self-loathing Thatcher-alike of act 2 had quite an effect on me.

The main problem I had with the play was its structure. I didn’t have a problem with the central device of showing the same family at different points in their history – it’s a familiar device today but I wasn’t expecting it from a JB Priestley play and so was pleasantly surprised. I went along with it, enjoying the acting and the changing characters, but once we’d been introduced to all the characters again, the play just ran out of steam, treading over the same ground and drawing out the ending. And the 3rd act, which returned us to the earlier time period, was far too long and filled with far too much sledgehammer dramatic irony and very few things we didn’t already know.

And the production itself was odd. This was the fourth Rupert Goold show i’ve seen, and with each one I become less impressed. The thing which made Macbeth so fantastic – namely a strong concept for the production which served and gave new meaning to the play – seems to have faded to a few tacked-on theatrical gimmicks. For ‘Six Characters’ the crazy tricks worked, because it is a crazy kind of play; for King Lear some of the ideas worked, some didn’t, because they didn’t make any sense to either the production or the play. But here, we have a pretty bog-standard drawing room affair with some theatrical gimmickry at the end of each act. Yes, they look good, but what are they adding to the play? Not much, I would argue.

So, in summary: a bizarre production of a dated, overlong and clunky play was saved by some solid performances. Which was enough for me to enjoy for the most part.