Another Take

The first and only poem I composed goes as follows:

Another Take

He walked across the stage

in a fit of furious rage

His right hand on his pistol belt

and then, off the stage light went

"Cut! You didn't do well

your eyes just couldn't tell"

The director's mood wasn't pretty

this was his take number twenty

After an hour's break

the crew got ready for another take

Everybody, everything in position

Lights! Camera! Action!

He darted across the stage

filled with tempestous rage

His right hand on his pistol belt

took out the gun, and the shot was sent

Thud! The villian fell down

His vanquisher gave a last frown

Everyone clapped, the director was beaming

his scenes done, now he could be leaving

He rode swiftly on his wheels

free and fresh, at last, he feels

The match begins at nine

may be he'll just reach in time

Boom! the noise was loud

He quickly turned around

The 2 cars behind him crashed

A Camino and a Cameo lay trashed

"Should I go and help them,

but I would miss my match then"

getting out of his coupe, he waffled for a bit

"Other will help", he returned to his seat

He reached the stadium at 9'O ten

the match went on till eleven

He cheered for his team, loud and clear

at the back of his mind, he had that fear

Got up in the morning, and out of bed

rushed to fetch the newspaper, he read:

"Cars crashed, 2 bled and died"

brooding in his room, he almost cried

The accident and his actions haunted him for many days

If only in real life, there were more than one TAKES

- Abhimanyu Rawal