forgotten melody

mirrors on the fallen snow

reflecting where you'd like to go

and what you'd be if you could know

the narrative that makes it so

windows in the sky with eyes

exposing soporific lies

and passionless dramatic sighs

whispering goodbye

there's no fortune bright enough to make you

and there's no moonbeam light enough to take you

or any hammer strong enough to break you

unless you start it all alone

doors that lead to empty rooms

welcoming as wood tombs

promising the end of gloom

not all what you'd assume

douglas brent smith 1974/2023 

missing some

as most ends will see

all ends will be

as the darkness covers you

the nightfall sets you free

free when you'e glistening

clenched as i'm listening

to your many timbres toning

replies to our inquiries

coherent co-developed

carefully enveloped

touched with out finger prints

missing annotations

douglas brent smith

 

squeeze

i just remembered you

and then us and then then and

then as quick it was gone

what were you saying?

douglas brent smith 29 January 2023

dry

the rain doesn't touch me

i'm too intent on dreaming

will you come along?

douglas brent smith 9 December 1973

Two

there is so much breathing

to share

live, create, feel, hold, release . . . 

wanting so much to touch

this small soulful love

who already touched first

1973

 

Miniature

 i became aware of

the poetry of existance

     and of the artistry of

     her voice

     of her thin, gentle fingers and

     the honesty of her eyes

1973

Wordless

 when a friendship

                              grows deeper

and the desire for sharing

each and every moment

lasts

        behind the level of acquaintance

the need to touch    

                            grows stronger

tastefully (if allowed) space

                 to hold (carefully) emotions

silently

             when words are not enough 

. . .                                                       because

   . . .   words are never enough . . . 

12/73

       

Give Me Your Brain

Note: I once wrote a play called "The Great Brain Robbery." This poem is from that period of time, in 1973, when I thought some things were much funnier than I do now. And, the basic premise of the play, that we are unconsciously surrendering our brains, still holds up.

Give Me Your Brain

you're certainly a silly one

afraid to give a brain

the whole world's grabbing for it

release it while you're sane

we need a brain like yours to use

in service to our cause

it won't help you once you're crazy

filled with riddles and with flaws

you're no Einstein nor a Curie

just a normal filled with fury

you're no Jesus why not please us

give that brain away

such a silly greedy one

clutching to your head

all your brain cells added up

won't matter when you're dead

give me your brain

it's not so much

a sibling cerebral skunk crutch

let it go now in this exchange

give me oh give me hey give me your brain

sensible

if a circle is

   really a series of

      triangles

         how can we ever

            expect to

               make any sense

                  out of any

                     thing at all?

3 January 2023

 

Bottle Rocket

 "Is that what I think it is?"

(she slams the oven door and grabs the bottle rocket out of the boys hand. She throws it toward the window but it bounces off the screen and lands amid the other fireworks.)

"Is that cherry pie?"

(she opens the oven and grabs the pie. It's hot and she nearly drops it but manages to set it on the floor.)

"Yes. That was a close one."

(a chain reaction of fire work sparklers light up the kitchen. Small popping sounds and Gilles. She grabs the boys hand and leads him in a gallop out of the kitchen. They both narrowly miss stepping in the pie on the way out. As soon as they are gone the whole kitchen explodes.)

"Shhhhh."

(She returns with a fire extinguisher and gets the exploding fireworks out. It's a mess. She picks up the miraculously in tact pie and carries it out. Wisps of smoke float gently around the kitchen. Pause.)

"Delicious."

-- douglas brent smith

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Context: 

Written from a scene prompt, page 337 from "The Playwright's Handbook" by Stuart Spencer.

Dealing with it

 

We just have to deal with it. It's not new. It's not going to change. The people who are younger than you feel the need to rebel against you. The people who are older than you care so much about their own generation that yours seems insignificant. It doesn't make any of it true, just present.

We might as well deal with it by staying calm, mindful, and attentive to our own approach to multiple-generations. Eventually, if you live long enough, you get to be every generation cliche available.

-- doug smith

Raw Emotions

Rough drafts lead to raw emotions.

Raw emotions lead to truth.

Truth leads to change.

-- doug smith

Funny Props

 

As an occasional actor I've been known to buy my own props. Sometimes it's part of my process (of becoming the role) and sometimes it's because the theatre I'm working with has a small budget. 

This picture (above) is no doubt the result of a stalking retail site (you know who) sorting thru my purchases (and views) and deciding that yes, Doug you need this: this marvelous pair of glasses.

I don't. Not at the moment. But I'll keep it in mind if a role requiring that lands in my lap.

It reminds me of other funny props that I've worked with: mouse ears, beaver ears, a bell, a wine bottle, real food (beef stew from a can, yum), and that's not even mentioning the many props I've used with children's theater when I toured with Child's Play. 

What were your most unusual tools of the trade? Did you master them? Did they bring you fully into your role and make you seem more alive?

Funny props are more than funny. They facilitate fun.

-- doug smith