Homework WE 17/10/16 - Remembering Robin
Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2016 6:48 pm
Well, Maureen - I certainly agree with David that these prompts led to dark places! I toyed with several ideas, then happened to read some information about the late, great Robin Williams ... which led me down my final path for this fortnight.
REMEMBERING ROBIN
(c) Shelley Hansen 12/10/16
His technique was immaculate, though often quite bizarre -
he used his clowning skill to make us laugh;
and when he died it shocked the world, and made us realise
the sum of what we knew was less than half.
Inexorable sadness lurked beneath the face of fun -
we saw a glimpse of pathos now and then,
created in a character that graced the silver screen
then slipped behind the comic mask again.
A solitary child of absent parents, he was shy;
all through long afternoons he was alone.
The endless duplication of the days saw little change
as he grew used to playing on his own.
The need to be accepted, to be loved for who he was
persisted through the years of sudden fame;
and through the rocky patches, no one guessed the strength it took
to don that mask and play the social game.
Depression is more dangerous than we might understand.
We hear the voice, but cannot read the heart.
We all keep up appearances, present a public smile,
ashamed lest someone see us fall apart.
But let us look behind the mask, and hear the cry for help,
and take the time to listen and to share;
for sometimes those who gladden us are weeping deep inside
and need to hear us simply say ... we care!
REMEMBERING ROBIN
(c) Shelley Hansen 12/10/16
His technique was immaculate, though often quite bizarre -
he used his clowning skill to make us laugh;
and when he died it shocked the world, and made us realise
the sum of what we knew was less than half.
Inexorable sadness lurked beneath the face of fun -
we saw a glimpse of pathos now and then,
created in a character that graced the silver screen
then slipped behind the comic mask again.
A solitary child of absent parents, he was shy;
all through long afternoons he was alone.
The endless duplication of the days saw little change
as he grew used to playing on his own.
The need to be accepted, to be loved for who he was
persisted through the years of sudden fame;
and through the rocky patches, no one guessed the strength it took
to don that mask and play the social game.
Depression is more dangerous than we might understand.
We hear the voice, but cannot read the heart.
We all keep up appearances, present a public smile,
ashamed lest someone see us fall apart.
But let us look behind the mask, and hear the cry for help,
and take the time to listen and to share;
for sometimes those who gladden us are weeping deep inside
and need to hear us simply say ... we care!
