fred’s backdrop

Poem #132 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

it’s only a play

only a play …

he muttered
half to himself
to his silent listener

only a play but
every performance
they want me
to do a new backdrop

he began
as he always began
with a vast
black sheet

for paint
he had mixed pots
of his own formulae

plaster white
for the most part

stars here …

stars there …

they’ve got no idea
what star …

he carefully reached
to dab
near the centre
of the sheet

…what star
goes where

it amuses me
from time to time
to create …

another reach
and dab

… the brand new

he laughed
into a coughing


the centrepiece
off-centerpiece tonight
was to be a three-quarter moon

looking cool
and distant


last night

he said

I had to do it

tomorrow night
they’ll want it
to be bigger

it changes
every night

just look at the script

they say

a bloody play

he sat back
on his knees
and attempted to draw in
a mouthful of smoke
from the stub of a smoke
permanently attached
to the side
of his lower lip

a last dab


that’s done

give us a hand
to get this up
would you

the show starts
at sundown

© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #133: centre-side

8 thoughts on “fred’s backdrop

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.