iambic pentameter

Cover for "The Liar"

The Lantern Theater Company’s production of “The Liar”.

Is this not a blog ’bout running a race,

not a mere review of timing and pace?

Does inclusion of such other affection

demand an answer to this reflection?

To race or not to race, is that the question?

Nay, said Armstrong, not about the bike, then

what for the road runner would be the like?

For me and Kathleen, a night on the town!

It’s PATCO to Philly, with that we’re down.

Met with some friends at the Westmont station,

Then on to the Lantern, first, a conversation.

Sat with the director, down in “the lab”

of this tiny theater, for, (you guessed it), a confab.

Kate MacMillan, resident director,

there explained iambic pentameter.

She then went on, yawn in voice,

(must I put on a good face for this bunch)

no, she really was full of spice.

(The well hid strain to explain, just a hunch).

We then ascended the metal stairs

in this theater posterior to the

large cathedral, St. Stephen’s Basilica,

but, of faith, Episcopilica,

to find our way to unassigned chairs.

A bit like boarding a Southwest Airline,

One sits in any seat that one can find.

I like this form of letting patrons choose,

it lets us join together with our group,

worry not ’bout the ticket’s assigned spot,

select the seats that work best for our lot.

We settled in awaiting expectantly

a “translapted” Corneille French comedy.

Translapted, David Ives, the translaptor

created this word, a portmanteau (look it up)

of how he changed this play from long ago

about the time of Louis XIII and Richelieu,

a clever farce with parts a bit taboo.

David Ives adapted the translation,

changed the text to match our generation.

Hence the cunning linguist term, translaptation.

The actors all were brilliant in their parts;

timing’s crucial when throwing verbal darts.

The play’s about a liar, bet you guessed,

a young lawyer who seeks the fairer sex,

but is convinced the only way to score

is to lie, and lie, and to lie some more.

He takes on a servant, who can naught but tell the truth,

the plot, based on mistaken names, forsooth.

Dorante, the lead, relies on his glib gift

to prevent a nearly deadly rift,

while he woos a willing young coquette,

but whose name he misses on a bet.

Clarice, Lucrece, Isabelle, Sabine are

randy and ready for a love affair.

Or rather, seeking marriage, they are looking

for a soldier worth their hand they’re hoping.

Swords come out and in, a bit provoking.

Scenes change quickly, stage hands work like lightning.

The upshot this, a play most entertaining,

Well done by cast and crew, really, outstanding!

Borrowed photo of Caribou Cafe, from the internet.

The six in our party, (you thought four?)

departed Lantern Theater, heading for

Caribou Cafe, 12th and Walnut,

for a late dinner, beer, wine and more.

We were delighted to find music, live

sax and guitar, a jazz duo, good vibes.

A bit of dawdle, headed home late

At that hour, certainly a wait.

On to the PATCO concourse headed we

back to our beds, at home, ’twas two, not three.
But hark, what cry is that, what run did I?

Okay, eleven miles, marathon pace, feeling strong for Philly in one week.

Does this destroy the rhyming scheme I wrote?

Even Shakespeare sometimes got off note.
Frank K.

Leave a comment


  1. Dave S.

     /  November 11, 2012

    Good heavens, Dr. Frank, I never realized
    Your feet could run these meters full of verse
    And ne’er trip once at all (if I may elide).
    Though hope you’ve strained your quatrains nothing worse.

  2. They warned us it was infectious.

  3. Frank that was very entertaining ( I think) anyway it made my head hurt. You put a lot of work into this. I liked the end where you noted you ran 11 miles at marathon pace and am feeling strong for Philly. Hark! go out slow and run steady and conservative hold back my man the first half. Hark! like I have to tell you that. You want a good experience this last race of the year.

    • Hey, Tony, thanks for your comments and encouragement. You’d make a good coach. Oh, wait, you already are. Hark back at ya. Frank

      Sent from outer space.


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