ENCORE

ENCORE

This is the finale,
The wondrous encore,
The whole glittering show.

Fans of the rhyme,
They sway in time,
Moaning and groaning
And bending so low.

Low enough to touch the sinews
Of this withering heart,
With a frequency just low enough,
To blow it full apart.
Clapping in unison,
Chanting in triplicate,
Begging me for more.
Until I bend and condescend
To give them the key to the store.

Hold on, have mercy,
What have I done?
To deserve such beating of the drum?
Such unrestrained cacophony,
It frightens and it scares me.
The writing it is painted on the wall,
I am human and I am small.

I try to satisfy the crowds.
That wait outside my home,
Their cries so lonely and so loud,
For verses new and rhymes unknown.
But life is short and time is fleeting,
The Maker calls me for a meeting,
Not even I can comprehend,
When my typing skills will end.

In reality this may be the last,
Of all I have to give,
The day it may be coming,
When I struggle just to live.
So stop the constant clanging,
Like pots and pans come banging,

I may soon be back with rhymes of emotion,
Perhaps the Muse will come again
And spill on me his potion.
Believe me when I tell you
That I don't even know,
If this is the finale,
The wondrous encore,
The whole glittering show.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This is intended to be totally tongue-in-cheek, though it is new!