wandering around
the annual show
I see the same names
winning every prize
in the bonsai
the succulents
the red roses
in the preserved fruits
in the handcrafts
and fancy stitching
Neil says sure
you can take
my picture
because I’ve won
half the show
with exhibits of my own
I’m everywhere
but
this could be the last year
because everyone is tired
and they don’t want to organize
anymore
see the committee
is hovering
around eighty
none of them can compute
except to skype
with their great grandchild
so they want to keep everything
by pen
and by paper
but in a digital age
even fruit preserves
demand a little more
and no one
wants to put their hand up
for volunteering
and nobody want
to take time out
from facebook
twitter
and things like that
so this show
might be the last one
that you can come to
better catch
a carny ride
they won’t be back
and my bonsai
well
I’ll still trim it
that one’s a moreton bay fig
and I couldn’t quit this
if I tried
but I won’t be back
there’s no place
for old crafts
or
slow growing
anymore
© Frank Prem, 2016
Poem #29: the crocodile trainer
07/02/18
Frank Prem Poetry 
We drove past our annual show today, what was once a big affair today would have been lucky to have 100 people in it and it was shut down by 2pm. Time are changing.
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They sure are.
The chap today was highlighting that the old guard still run the show, and can’t adapt, but there is no new guard to take over at all.
A bit sad, and yet, I’m not a great fan myself. We only went because Leanne entered a couple of art works in their display.
Cheers,
Frank
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I like this poem, it captures in a sort of casual third person observer form something happening in our culture. Sad state of affairs but good poem!
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Thanks Fritz.
It’s an inevitable demise, and even the remnants are very ‘last century’, but it’s a part of the childhood of a certain age group (mine, actually), so it’s a sad event, but the Show is an anachronism, I think and had to go.
Yep, sad.
More wine, please …
Cheers,
Frank
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Yes, more wine, indeed! My wife and I recently took our son to a NZ Symphony Orchestra performance and we were about the youngest there by a mile. Lots of kind old folk, eager to talk to my son about music. A tinge of sadness.
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I know exactly what you’re saying.
I find concerts put on by the young – at school and such. I have a little series (3 I think) of a school concert soiree that I’ll look for a chance to post. I have enjoyed even the braying off-notes in my time.
I’ll post when I can.
Probably the worst element is that it was a way of isolated people coming together., and I don’t think that works anymore – not in person, anyway.
Phew! It’s a good red I’m drinking.
Anyway.
Here’s to the demise, god help us with the replacement.
Cheers,
Frank
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So sad. but I love the poem
*Thanks so much,*Barbara Haviland websites: http://www.BarbaraHavilandFineArt.com https://www.barbarahavilandtexasartist.com/ Blog: https://barbsgarden.blogspot.com/ https://barbarahavilandblog.wordpress.com/ https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/barbara-haviland https://barbarahavilandfineart.com/blog https://www.barbarahavilandtexasartist.com/ http://www.barbarahavilandtexasartist.com/
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Thank you Barbara.
Yes, these old traditions are passing us by. No chance of a return, I don’t think.
Cheers,
Frank
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