Acting Badly

Mathew Waggish accepted his prize of first place
with a high attitude and a tilted up face.
He crushed humbleness underfoot in haughty stride,
and stood square at the podium beaming with pride.

He was seen on the stage being honored one night;
fellow actors in audience seated just right.
Yet a current of unrest began to be felt
when old Waggish posed smug with his thumbs in his belt.

In stark anti-humility, Waggish began
speaking of a great actor, then saying, “I am!”
He was swelled like a pufferfish ready to rise;
there was twinkling unbearable self in his eyes.

This was not Hollywood where the Oscars are found,
but a small band of thespians in a small town.
Hardly a gambling town or some kind of resort,
yet a home to somebody who was a bad sport

as he flaunted his trophy and gushed like a spring;
in the midst of acceptance he started to sing.
Waggish was like a child demeaning the rest
who achieved nomination, but did not feel blessed.

There arose in the audience sounds of a hiss;
they took umbrage at Waggish, and thus they were pissed.
As a cocky performance approached overkill,
all the good people present at once had their fill.

With his arms still around himself, Waggish exclaimed
that he was in the mood to receive extra fame.
“I am great!” Waggish cried, “Just as great as can be.”
Everyone in the audience started to flee.



28 Lines
Anapestic Tetrameter
Writer’s Cramp Winner
6-8-20