Poem that won top honors in the Antelope Valley Poetry Contest. |
ALL’S WELL THAT ORSON WELLES Out of the mid-west he came, like a moth to the flame, And like rains on the plain, his Citizen Kane, Flushed the old down the drain, starting a new strain, Etching his name in Hollywood’s fame. And they adored him; they’d reward him, But often times bored him When setting their sails on rickety rails, Or casting spells, or spinning tales Of all’s well that Orson Welles. And if my daddy knew, he never told Cause he couldn’t be bought and he wouldn’t be sold. He was out of the old mold, like molten gold, Running hot and cooling cold, with a luster to behold. And I love him; I hug him I think highly of him When setting my sails on rickety rails, Or casting spells, or spinning tales Of all’s well that Orson Welles But the sands of time can cloud your mind, Don’t look behind; don’t try to find And don’t unwind, but improve your grind, Age like wine and don’t blame time But face it; embrace it You know you can’t race it When setting your sails on rickety rails, Or casting spells, or spinning tales Of all’s well that Orson Welles So don’t get angry, don’t get blue, There’s not a lot that you can do. Maybe take some old; take some new, a screw or two, A bit o’ luck, a little glue and hope that it will get you through, Cause life is tough; man, it gets rough, But you never seem to have enough When setting your sails on rickety rails, Or casting spells, or spinning tales Of all’s well that Orson Welles |