Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Sonnet 72 -- Bad Sonnet on the Hurrican

I took a drive to see what I could see
And yes, we are indeed in luck today
Branches, trash cans, and leaves were broken free
Some errant Angel must have come my way
Three big trees down on Watchung Avenue
I have no taste for revelry tonight
Halloween, we will not be having you
We have Mother Nature to give us fright
But still, I am pleased with my Governor
And am moved by American courage
Undefeated by the bitch Sandy’s roar
We clean ourselves up and turn the damned page
And pray that we can heed the warning
And stop the madness of global warming

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Sonnet 72 --Hurricanes, Weird Macs and Bitchy Moods

This Lady doth be like unto a bitch
How dare they call a hurricane “Sandy”?
The name should be that of an evil witch
Not some stupid female cotton candy!
Look at your life? Just look at mine! A waste!
No husband, children or play productions
Of success Reinhard’s never had one taste
No love has touched her thousand seductions
All she’s achieved is to somehow survive
And finally grown a crippled backbone
Sitting here waiting for the storm to arrive
Once more happier to be home alone
But even burdened with this stupid ass MS
I want to think I might still have success

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Sonnet 71--On Posterity

Shakespeare did not know that he was Shakespeare
But I know I have no posterity
Paper lacks the strength of canvas, I fear
My age and illness demands reality
Butt-kissing trips to NYC are done
Can’t subsidize their rent with workshop fees
Besides, rehearsals are no longer fun
I say the wrong thing and no longer please
But on the television screen last week
In the closing credits, I saw your name
Your art is purchased by the ones who seek
A timeless master who lives in the frame
You’ve earned a rest and an easier life
We’ll see to the fame, you go find a wife

Friday, October 19, 2012

Sonnet for a friend on his Fifty-Fifth Birthday

Sonnet for a friend on his Fifty-Fifth Birthday

Life is a series of crises solved
And decisions that seemed wise at the time
Too fast to understand what had devolved
We thought it right but the line doesn’t rhyme
The clothes of a young man no longer fit
But the boy is still there behind the eyes
Some of life is perfect and some is shit
So hard to sort out the truth from the lies
But here we are, still alive and kicking
Learning and building and loved by our God
Friends and Art and Joy to keep us ticking
Glory in being beautifully odd
And I hope you have a lovely autumn
And find your perfect lace-covered bottom

Sunday, October 14, 2012

First Stab at writing a new ending for Amour Americain

Don’t comfort me! Stop trying to help! I’m just a crippled warrior who has no foe except  for my disease and age and uselessness. Who can’t even save the life of the man she loves! Chrissie! My Cadette…help me stand! The Devil is in the air tonight and I do not want him catching me sitting  in a chair.

(Siriana moves to the stair, holding on to the rail, looking where Roxy disappeared.)

All my books and education are lies
Youth, health and beauty remain our masters
Oh, I know what my Epitaph will be
They will call me Teacher and Poetess
Survivor of Multiple Sclerosis
Whom no successful man could ever love.
And they’re right.
Despite fame and fortune and all my art
I know there lives the foolish girl in me
Without house or child…without a husband
Writing a hundred times in my notebook:
Mrs. Robert Xavier Yeager.
Who is, in reality, his widow.
Dressed in black.
The Press hovers over my dying light
Like a careless Goddess, rubbing her hands
Waiting for my voice to finally cease
Oh, I know what my Epitaph will be
She was a strong poster child for MS
Who helped the poor and voiceless of the world.
Fought greed and hatred and cowardice
Sirianna Diane Bergmann
Who thought she was a big hot deal
But the Media, that giant asshole
With Facebook and Twitter analysis
Will bring her reputation back to Earth.
Will call her blank verse rhymeless gibberish
Just another voice screaming in the dark.

(Chrissie brings Sirianna her cane.)

But my Cadettes! My Sisterhood! My friends! It’s not what we said but that we were heard! Keep fighting! Keep marching! And keep loving. Love with all your heart and soul…with style and panache!
And always remember.

Siriana D. Bergmann was not crippled!
 (Siriana thrusts her cane to the sky. Lights down. End of play.)