Volume > Issue > A Stage Exists Someplace

A Stage Exists Someplace

A POEM

By James Hunter | January-February 1984

When players voices no longer ring,

A set becomes a shabby thing —

Forgotten dreams, an unreal town.

It’s time that we should pull it down.

But I pause to reminisce a while.

I said my lines with frown or smile,

To fit the action; but now it’s past.

My little victories could not last —

In barren disarray they lie

With all the dreams that passed me by.

I shudder at time’s implacable pace.

Yet I know a stage exists someplace

Where I shall say my lines again

And sing of things that might have been

Where nothing holy is cast away,

And secret dreams shall have their day.

Enjoyed reading this?

READ MORE! REGISTER TODAY

SUBSCRIBE

You May Also Enjoy

RHYTHM

You are the maker of maps,

Straight edge and compass in hand.

I am horizons…

Who Taught You?

Butterfly, who taught you

Your exotic dance?

Who made your wings melodious?
What makes…

William Carlos Williams: A Doctor’s Faith, a Poet’s Faith

Williams knew how bored, self-centered, and self-indulgent the rich can be, and how desperately confused, vulnerable, and self-lacerating the poor often are.