AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes

AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes
I love a sunburnt country / A land of sweeping plains / Of ragged mountain ranges / Of droughts and flooding rains / I love her far horizons / I love her jewel-sea / Her beauty and her terror / The wide brown land for me / ~ Dorothea Mackellar (1885-1968)

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Friday, April 11, 2008

The Salt of the Palace ~ for 3WW and Poefusion's Friday 5

Pic from NSW National Trust
~
This is in response to 3WW ~ funny, remember, theatre and
Poefusion's Friday 5 ~ brittle, aluminium foil, Polaroid, skunk, salt
Back in the days
When I was a very poor uni student
Struggling to make dollars ~
In between lectures and study
I worked as a casual relief
On the theatre milk bars ~
Hardly a glamorous job ~
But it had many an adventure
Brittle with a strange kind of risk ~
The risk of maybe intruding
On other worlds
~
My favourite memory is of the Palace Theatre
With a welcoming
Marble ballroom staircase
Sweeping up to a lounge area
Glittering with chandeliers
And vaulted ceilings
Coloured with romantic murals
And a deepest red carpet
With a few sighing threads
~
But the front of the theatre
Was the glamour area ~
The real salt of the theatre
Lurked down behind the stage
~
I remember
Wandering through the stalls
Past the orchestra pit ~
And you may
For a moment
Feel you have wandered into a skunk world ~
Yet it is only the stray stench
Of the old Tank Stream
(The first water supply of Sydney)
Gurgling murkily below the floorboards
~
But nearby is the real interest ~
A twirling spiral
Black
Wrought iron stairway ~
And thereby spins a tale
Crumpled like aluminium foil
With tight valleys
Of shiny
Intriguing
Secrets
~
Often, I would feel a chill pocket of air ~
It was not a draught ~
It was almost as if the air was wrapping around me ~
Usherettes told me
They had heard that a ringer
(a curtain ringer)
Had always wanted to be an actor ~
For some reason
The closest he could get to the stage
Was as a ringer
~
One night
When he finally brought down the curtain
After a live show
He was caught in the ropes
Swung to the top of the curtain
And then plummeted
To his death
In the orchestra pit.
~
Apparently
He used the spiral staircase
To check the ropes
And curtain.
~
The Palace Theatre
Is long gone now
There are no Polaroid shots
Of its glory
And no recorded stories
Of its fascinating history
~
I believe the Menzies Hotel
Bought the spiral staircase
~
Wouldn't it be funny
If "the chill" went with it?
~

6 comments:

J. S. Clawson said...

Thanks for taking me there! I loved it, felt like I was walking the aisle myself with your imagery! I loved the touch with the ringer too! Thanks for sharing it.

poefusion said...

I love your poem and how it transports the reader to the Palace Theatre. I would have loved to have seen the murals. And, I love spiral staircases. All this with a hint of ghostly tale. Very nice job. Have a nice day.

TC said...

I think most of us have had to work an unglamorous job a time or two to make it through. Nice description of yours.

paisley said...

well worth a trip to the menzies to find out!!!! what an excellent story!!!

anthonynorth said...

I used to love those old theatres. Entertainment was different then. And culture oozed out of every piece of them.

Tumblewords: said...

Lovely bit of memoir - well written - I'm amazed at how you combined the prompt words into such a delightfully written tale!

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