A furry interloper has arrived And lay beside me as I tried to write. And when I moved, he looked as though deprived Of shelter on a cold, inclement night. I let him stay, but soon began to feel The furnace of his back against my leg, So down the sheets and comforter I peeled, … Continue reading March 21: Unexpected Muse
Month: March 2014
March 20: Requiem for Ourselves
Without the opportunity to try again, With no collaborations yet to come, Our first and last joint effort will remain With us, though loss of dreams has made us numb. So when the house lights dimmed and quiet fell, Collectively, we had a choice to make To let distraction and self-pity quell The joy of … Continue reading March 20: Requiem for Ourselves
March 19: Requiem for an Opera Company
The speed of bad news through the music scene Eclipses the velocity of sound, So when a closure happens unforeseen, Surprise and consternation will abound. One's sorrow at the loss is soon replaced By disbelief and eagerness to blame Some entity for our civic disgrace, Or else partake a bitter share of shame. And yet, … Continue reading March 19: Requiem for an Opera Company
March 18: Requiem for an Empty House
An empty theatre waiting to be filled, Hundreds of voices waiting for their cue, Inhaling dust of cinder blocks playbilled In fervent hope of doing something new. Yet while the marshaled forces may impress, Acoustic problems plague the evening's sound, Despite the vocal power we possess, Transcendence never quite gets off the ground. And yet, … Continue reading March 18: Requiem for an Empty House
March 17: It’s Not Easy Being Green
Instead of all the dubious displays Of “Irishness” that make St. Pat's a bore I'd much prefer to celebrate the plays And other works that hail from Erin's shores. We shall arise and go to Innisfree, Then take a wake in Dublin, thoughts awhirl, Await Gogo and Didi's absentee, And lose the playboy of the … Continue reading March 17: It’s Not Easy Being Green
March 16: A Bee in One’s Sonnet
As Strindberg hated Ibsen's plays and strove To set himself an equal opposite, And Hellman sued McCarthy as she drove Herself into the grave over the split, Such passionate antipathy excites, As legendary treasure does marauder, And spurs an artist to undreamed of heights, As Dostoevsky found Turgenev fodder. But I can't think of any … Continue reading March 16: A Bee in One’s Sonnet
March 15: What I Did On My Summer Vacation
It started out as every other break, A hovercraft sojourn to Timbuktu Where people find it hard to stay awake Amidst the singing tumbleweeds and shrews. But on the way, a tidal wave arose And washed away the lovely waterfall In which we always liked to dip our toes Before we caught the monorail to … Continue reading March 15: What I Did On My Summer Vacation
March 14: Under Cover
“Don't judge a book by its cover,” mother said, Implying, rightly, that the words inside Convey much more when actually read, Though there are writers who wish to misguide. If, when you crack the spine, you find within Dishonest arguments, a lazy mess, It's not surprising you would feel chagrin Because you lack the context … Continue reading March 14: Under Cover
March 13: Lemon Head
I spied a lemon hanging on a tree, As green as the surrounding leaves and of A height with my forehead. I laughed to see The danger of a bonking from above. And every time I passed the lemon tree I dodged at the last minute to avert Collision 'twixt the unripe fruit and me, … Continue reading March 13: Lemon Head
March 12: Darling Earbuds
I am afloat within a sea of sound; Distinctive whine of engine and the roar Of ventilation, and from down the ground The rumble, rubber tires on asphalt, more Atop it, stop announcements in a timbre Specific to the driver, and the voices Of others as around-between, they clamber- Cacophony: in it my heart rejoices. … Continue reading March 12: Darling Earbuds
Libby Weber 