HOLLOW HALLS

20140810_225932000_iOS

She drags tired heels

across a tainted floor,

poise slightly bowed

and her back is sore.

She holds on her face

a cold marble stare,

a hard life engraved

upon cheeks once so fair.

 

Her faulting movements,

once graceful; divine,

her aching limbs now

with guile, defy

her final performance

on this dark empty stage,

memories fleeting

of a much better age.

 

The roar of the crowd

in the heat of the lights,

commanding the stage

to the cries of delight.

Standing ovations

from sold out rooms,

cries of “Encore”,

bouquets and blooms.

 

A West End starlet,

she danced through the air,

forever performing

in the spotlight’s glare.

The flash of the cameras

and jostling fans,

her fluttering eyelashes

would meet their demands.

 

Talk-shows and dinners,

awards and applause,

accolades and roses

received without pause.

A star on the boulevard,

her hands cast in stone,

everybody worshipped

and bowed at her throne.

 

She reached for the heavens

and in starlight she basked,

the world was her oyster,

she could have all she asked

but her deal with the devil

was soon to be paid,

like any sweet rose

she must finally fade.

 

Soon the face in the mirror

would define all her time,

a light dusty trail

at the end of each line

until cracks in the glass

couldn’t mask her demise,

just dull flaking make-up

on a weary disguise.

 

The halls became vacant

like her own distant stare,

from cold tired eyes

behind dull brittle hair.

Her body defying

her desperate pleas

to return to the times

of such graceful ease.

 

She drags tired heels

across the tarnished floor,

her body now trembling

as she reaches the door.

With a last tearful glance

at the dark ageing boards,

no more bright lights

or loud cheering hoards.

 

She turns away

and with a mournful sigh,

closes the door

with a whispered goodbye.

The rain is hard

and the cold wind bites

as she stiffly walks off

into the dark stormy night.

 

 

 

Written by Darren Scanlon, 19th July 2014

Revised 28th June 2015.

©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

COPYWRITE IMAGE

Advertisements

20 Comments Add yours

  1. Sue Vincent says:

    Lovely and full of insight, Darren.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. May says:

    A life of pretend, hollow and alone
    Beautiful ❤️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  3. jenanita01 says:

    beautifully written, Darren… so incredibly sad.
    Are your lovely poems in a book?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks. They are in four volumes of Positively Poetic. Click on the BOOKS link on this blog.

      Like

  4. sevoiland says:

    Darren, You inspire me. I see that you have revisited this and a few others from last year. What a great concept. In your light, I pledge to post one piece here on WordPress soon, no, within the week. This was a wonderful window on a sad end of life. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thankyou, you are too kind.

      Yes, well spotted, I am revising my existing poems, (in light of all that I have learned over the last year or so…always learning), as well as publishing new works.

      Glad you are enjoying therm.

      Keep Smiling 😊

      Like

  5. sevoiland says:

    Oops, not on your page, that is. I’ll put it on Poetic Asides and see what happens. I don’t have a page on WordPress – yet.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Nicely done. The performer wanted her happy life to continue, yet her body could not allow.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thankyou.

      Something I think a lot of people, (myself included, though not on the dancefloor), will relate to.

      Liked by 2 people

  7. noelleg44 says:

    A very lovey treatment of what comes to us all: the effects of time. So hard on someone who depends on their body’s ability for their identity. Maybe the life of the mind is better? I very much enjoyed this piece!

    Like

    1. Thanks Noelle, I think you may be right. Just be yourself and enjoy life.

      Like

  8. Beautiful ❤ I felt such sadness from these words.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thankyou my friend. The tragedy of how fickle life and ‘success’ can be and how, at the end of the day, we are left with so little to show for it all.

      Liked by 1 person

  9. olganm says:

    Sad and nostalgic but true, indeed. Noelle is right. It’s harder when that’s what your life and self-worth is based on. Hopefully we’ll keep on writing…:)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’ll be writing until the ink in my veins dries up.

      Like

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s