Puppeteer

Marionette: French for Little Mary

Puppeteer

You pulled the strings

and I jumped.

A marionette of a man

with little control of his own limbs.

I had no voice of my own

as you spoke every word for me,

for I was hollow

and carved from trees.

You the marionettist

knew my every move;

guided me on those black wires

hanging so loosely from heaven,

caused me to convulse

and dance and dance and dance

until I snapped,

and slumped in a ragged heap

upon the stage floor.

And yet I marvelled at your puppetry,

at the skills you showed,

the encore performances

you gave night after bleeding night.

I watched myself, clumsy as I am,

pirouette and twist and entertain.

Indeed there is no doubt

that even trapped fast within this

locked-in syndrome existence,

I knew it was art itself

my Little Mary created.

 

22/08/17

Reviews

[Lorry]

Ah, how those strings tangle and fray. superbly clever piece John, which left me feeling like I knew the tangled mess you speak of all too well. It may have been the music playing in my head that added a little extra doom to my thoughts though...it was funeral march of the marrionettes, otherwise known as the theme tune to Alfred hitchcock presents :)

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Excellent choice of music to accompany this one Lorry. Many thanks.

[DIVYA]

The marionettist's sad mistake, got too taken up by the puppet's beauty...Wanting to possess it totally. Didn't sense distress. Sadly, the puppet too couldn't speak of what troubled it. There are lessons to learn here.

Drinking in every amazing line.
As always under your skilled poetic spell...

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Ah but dear poet sometimes poetry is merely inspired by a word or image and not by anything in reality. Many thanks for your sensitive and considered comments dear Divya.

[DIVYA]

You are so welcome John.