A late pretense

I had already commented on this but it is gone? Anyway, I enjoyed this and you know there is always another theater but only one of u. Great poem. Lyz.

I am a huge fan of the cinema/theatre and this poem got me in the mood and then turned my world upside down at the end, and what an ending, lulled into security with the comfort, to find you holding the image in your head the whole time , wonderful work I loved it , cannot comment on the structure have no experience on sonnets i leave that to the more knowing :) love and hugz Jayne x x

Technically you are dealing in blank verse rather than a sonnet form but that's just my picking of nits. The form does not modify the sound imagery and competent execution but it is good to see you choosing to operate outside of your comfort zone and expand your style to include relating a message in a format with which you are not overly comfortable. It's this type of exercise that keeps us growing as poets and makes us appreciate the effort that is required to adhere to structured verse. It defines the workshop environment and it is good to see. However, you do have a couple of lines that are short a syllable and, as it happens, that syllable can aid you in extending the image you are creating: I've [bracketed] my 1st blush additions. Take a look and see what comes to your mind. Additionally, due to regional and personal pronunciations, the lines in question may each contain 10 syllables to your ear. I know my American southern ear hears "fire" and "ire" as two syllables though the dictionary insists there is just one. In cases such as these, I subjugate my preference for the broader accepted pronunciation though if I desire to force the issue I will punctuate the word to indicated additional non-standard syllables such as "blush'ed" to indicate a 2 syllable representation of "blushed" Enough rambling: ----------------------- The movie theater is empty now All that remains in this room relinquished The faint outline of a grainy contour And my failure to trace its’ [soft] imprint Lingering blank beside my heavy hand A burdensome murmur hushed [with] unease Falls into a vague note of an old harp Escorted by piano’s listless keys A game of catch and throw now left in light Of the inevitable shrinking dusk A sun’s margin becoming black as night Impressions I choose to deign with mistrust My eyes shut down, arms sink in quiet keep To recall you as I wished you to be ----------------------- --Jonathan Annoying the world, one person at a time (Group discounts available)