The Red Mile
Sometimes, I dust off an old poem, lost over several years and no longer featured on the Hub. This is one of those rare occasions.
Having once worked in the entertainment industry in LA, people sometimes ask me what Hollywood is really like. Actually, there is no “Hollywood,” as such, anymore. Although the major studio system of The Golden Age died out many years ago, the pressures and risks inherent in this business still thrive.
The Oscar is a statuette of a knight standing on a reel of film, gripping a crusader’s sword. But "all that glitters is not gold” for it takes more than talent to walk the red carpet amidst screaming fans and camera flares. Those who pursue acting to claim the prize often fail, while others -- truly gifted and deserving of the crown -- may sadly and tragically lose their way...
Each day they rush the kingdom gates
To joust their way to fame
And walk the mile of crimson tears
Their childhood sought to claim;
The promised land that calls the knight
To streets of glittered stone
Forsakes the dream in shadowed maze
To find its way alone;
The dragon lairs that guard the mile
Have warned in tales unsung
Of knights who fell as moths in flame
To fires that lure the young;
If shielded well the marksmen charge
To strike with ready lance
And cast their mark through endless suns
To pierce the veil of chance;
While golden knights that grace the mile
Entice of princely things,
The lightning storms and fevered cries
Decide the fate of kings.
Written and copyrighted by Genna Eastman; all rights reserved.