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Merely a Player

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In our college production 

I landed the plum part. 

Estragon, a dimwitted stooge 

For the cerebral Vladimir 

In Samuel Becket's fine play, 

A role which suited me just fine. 

I'm not sure why. 

Typecasting was alive and well 

In 1979.

 

I enjoyed the knockabout humour, 

The bandinage, the quickfire exchange 

Of insults, intensifying 

Until we wounded each other.

Mercilessly. A marriage of sorts. 

Vladimir was not, of course, 

As clever as he thought. 

 

It's funny how Life reflects Art. 

At the time I missed the point,

When life was young and sweet .

I was a willing victim of the chancers

Whom I chanced to meet, with their myriad

Of promises they made and never kept.

I was immutable, though, and undeterred

Why should my gratification be deferred?

 

How long have I been waiting 

For my time to begin? 

Life's game of poker has not yet

Dealt me in. 

 

"What shall I say of this day?" 

That I am still here waiting, 

Under this old, decrepit tree. 

Perhaps, then, tomorrow, 

Mister Godot

Will finally come.

For me. 

 

 

 

◄ An Epiphany

Strong Box ►

Comments

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John Botterill

Wed 2nd Mar 2022 21:39

Thanks very much Stephen. Lovely comments.
I think it is a great play with much to say about the human condition but with very little in the way of scenery. A tree! 😂

Thanks for the like, Ursula.

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Stephen Gospage

Wed 2nd Mar 2022 17:44

A fascinating poem, John. One of the reasons why Waiting for Godot is (arguably) the 20the century's greatest play is because we can all imagine ourselves to be in it. Estragon would have suited me, I think.

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John Botterill

Wed 2nd Mar 2022 11:44

Thanks for the comments, Greg. Really enlightening and valuable. Much appreciated 😀

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Greg Freeman

Wed 2nd Mar 2022 09:17

A very interesting poem, John. Godot was written soon after the war, when Beckett and his partner were forced to flee occupied Paris to avoid German arrest, because of their affiliation with the French Resistance. It has been suggested that some of the details in Godot reflect their journey through France. "Vladimir was not, of course, as clever as he thought." Indeed.

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John Botterill

Tue 1st Mar 2022 22:56

Thanks, Holden. Your kind comments mean a great deal to me 😊

Holden Moncrieff

Tue 1st Mar 2022 22:51

A lovely poem, John, full of clever metaphors! 😉

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