Prose Header

The Absurd of the Theatre

Godot, Where Are You, Now That We Really Need You?

by Don Webb

The actor playing Lucky feels that Pozzo hogs the show.
The one who’s cast as Vladimir has a bunion on his toe.
Estragon has kidney stones, now the actor thinks they’re real.
Gogo eyes the turnips; the performer missed a meal.

The audience sits dumbfounded, watching nothing happen twice.
Those hanging-ropes that are too short: why not make a splice?
Mon Dieu ! Godot, please, come — and put an end to this!
Beckett says, “This is Godot. You’ve taken it all amiss.”

* *

Author’s note: My thanks to Mike Acker for suggesting a poem on the multiple levels of reality in the theatre: author, actors, work and audience. The topic seemed to call for irony.

Copyright © 2015 by Don Webb

Proceed to Challenge 609...

Home Page