Today, I traveled half an hour away (with 11 other talented individuals) to perform our white and short version of The Tempest to a bunch of middleschoolers. It was a swell morning, and since I'm the driver for one of our two company vehicles, things were even more funfilled and funfilled. It was adventure enough just to wake up at 5:45am for it, and seeing as we have 48 more performances left, before June 13th, the true adventure has hardly begun!
I can say that making-out ferociously onstage in a fit of raged lust before murdering the King is a little awkward when 10-year-olds are watching. But they loved it all, and so did we. A good morning, and a long day to follow. I have a paper needs writing (which I'm clealy not doing) after which Big Life is calling my name. Epicly.
For dark in the hollows below an below
with cheers of my glory I cry "en A, Ho!"
"the craft that illuminates
white dots on fish,
will swallow the bounty
the hollows forgo"
A fine length of steel hold I, raised and clean,
ahead lay a country of clay and machine,
and smothered beneath what I'll make to be seen
are the petrified glories, sweet chocolate and green
to whetten our spirits, awaken the demons
intoxicate, vibrant with coloured vehemence,
and booming bright sunshine we'll fill down the hollows
to fall in and fight, light the nights with tomorrows!
A, ho! en A, ho! en A, ho! en, A, hay!
A, Hall an a Hail in th' fall of a Day!
A Moment in the Sun - a literary journey
2 years ago
4 comments:
Hey Mikie, I can just picture you doing that performance. What an impression you are making on those youngsters. Perhaps you are inspiring a few future theater arts majors!! Wow, wish I could have been there. What an exciting life you lead! Where is that poem from, who wrote it? Sorry for my ignorance. You always brighten my mornings with your wonderful descriptive depictions of your fabulous life there in that little village by the sea! I love you, Mom
hah momma there ain't no ignorance in this fam'ly. I wrote that poem as I was sitting there in the Stenopol (a little computer place on campus) and bored and procrastinating from doing the homework I should STILL be doing.
WOW, Mikie, that poem is great! I thought some famous old dead poet wrote it. Chalk up another talent, love you, Mom
I like the poem too Mikie. I don't understand it, but I want it (I mean like it)
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