Poetry and Stories by Dixie

To Tim
The Necromancer
Curry Unlimited
Foiled Again
Take Us,--We're Yours
The Spice of Life
Command Performance
To the Manner Born
Bravelegs Ballad

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To Tim

Upon this day for hopeful swains
Who feel love's unrequited pains,
One dream, one tender wish remains...
A look, a sigh, a longing heart
That wonders why we are apart,--
If you won't take the lead, I'll start:

From curly hair to dancing feet,
No chocolate kisses could be as sweet
As "Curry-flavoured",--what a treat!!
Forget the flowers and skip the wine;
No fancy bistros,--at home we'll dine...
Just me,--and Timmy Valentine!!

-By Dixie J. Whitted 2/14/97


The Necromancer

Filling each role
With charisma and poise,
Tim's presence onscreen
Brings us hope,--and despair;
We share in his revels,
His sorrows and joys:
Erotic, psychotic
Or devil-may-care.

Starting with "Frank,"
He burned up the screen,
Creating an image
We cannot forget;
Teasing and strutting
He took every scene,
Chewed it up, spat it out,
--Each smile, a threat.
This gracefully sinister
Son of a minister,
Weaving his spell,
Snaring hearts in his net...

` Then lower the lights,
Let the drama begin,
The heart-stopping
Soul-stirring magic is here:
His glorious voice
And adorable grin;
Once again we're bewitched
By our Darling, our Dear.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 2/15/97


Curry Unlimited

A Hungarian Con Man,
An evil Clown,
A Cardinal
Reaching for a crown,
A Rooster
Who nearly ends up stewed,
A "Vilderness Girl"
With an attitude,
An eight-foot Demon
With hot red skin,
The perfect Butler
Inviting us in,
A one-legged Pirate,
A greedy Preacher,
A shy and sensitive
Language Teacher,
A "Sweet Transvestite,"
A Dickens Villain
Who's more or less tight
And "Don't mind killin',"
A Russian Doctor,
A straying Dancer,
A Steward who won't
Take no for an answer,
The Bard of Avon,
A Rock Producer
(A business-driven
Sometime-seducer),
A Star Impressionist
Having his way
With Elvis, Jagger and Holiday;
We love them all
Because they're HIM:
Our many-faceted
Changeling TIM.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 2/16/97


Foiled Again

A touch of torture
Leavened by greed...
(Says the Cardinal,
"One less mouth to feed!")
For his plot of power
And destiny
Gloats, "It's all for one,--
And more for me!"

His blood-red robes
Caress the floor
As the Cardinal turns;
"Oh, one thing more..."
He proposes taking
His queen to wife
(Cursing Lady DeWinter
And her sharp knife...).

And the Musketeers?
Exiled and disgraced;
A young king
Who can easily...be replaced.
So Richelieu weaves
His dreams of State:
But finds his hour
Has struck too late...

The hired assassin
Is overthrown;
The Cardinal finds
He stands alone...
Though D'Artagnan conquers
(Alas!!--Alack!!)
Richelieu (swimming)
Snarls, "I'll be back!!"

- By Dixie J. Whitted 3/2/97


Take Us,--We're Yours

Hail to thee, our Tim quoxitic,
Man of many charms
Both exotic and erotic;
Heed our loving arms
That would fain embrace thee sweetly,
Soothe thy daily cares,
Solve thy boredom most completely,
Help with thy affairs...

Be not shy, but understanding,
--Give thy life some fizz!!
Thou shalt find us undemanding
(Most of us, that is...).
Dost thy work seem unfulfilling?
Heed our simple plea:
You will find us more than thrilling
--Nearer, Tim, to thee!!

- By Dixie J. Whitted 3/9/97


The Spice of Life

Who gets the headlines
And super-hype??
Those one-note actors,
Predictable-type:
The Hankses and Cruises,
Travolta, Stallone,
Each playing a stereotype
All his own...

While Mr. Curry
Can't be pinned down:
He's a sweet transvestite,
A fiendish clown,
A cheery pirate
And dozens more,
Each with brio
And style galore.

His repertoire
Is beyond all praise;
He never ceases
To amaze...
And that is why,
When the lights grown dim,
You take the "superstars;"
I'll take TIM!!

- By Dixie J. Whitted 3/9/97


Command Performance

A rustling of programs,
The audience tenses;
A crackling excitement
Alerts our senses:
The curtains open,
The house lights dim;
A single spotlight...
And there stands -- Tim!!
A roar of applause
Nearly lifts the ceiling;
He rolls his eyes
In a look appealing;
He bows and smiles
Till the tumult ends,
Then says, "I see
I have lots of friends!"

"You're all too kind
And I...hope to please;
So, well, perhaps
You'll like one of these..."
He raises a hand
And the music starts
And he sings of passion
And broken hearts,
And Love denied
And forever yearning,
Souls on fire
Eternally burning,
And happy endings
And Love-for-Sale
And Porter's final
Betrayal tale...

Drunk with joy,
We feel the fire
As his hot voice
Soars high...and higher...
Torrid, tender,
And purest pleasure,
Tim is the Theatre's
Greatest treasure.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 3/4/97


To the Manner Born

The silken menace of Richelieu;
Wadsworth's wellbred savoir-faire;
Long John Silver's derring-do
And Frank-N-Furter's electric glare...
Reverend Ray, with his down-home drawl,
Selling a Heaven that wouldn't let him in;
Winston Newquay, wanting it all:
Money, power and other men's women.

These are creatures of Curry's art,
Brought to life by his force of will;
Each a triumph of mind and heart,
To tease, to frighten, to thrill or chill.
An alchemist, turning dross to gold,
His charms transfigure the commonplace:
As a meek professor or pirate bold,
His eyes look out of a stranger's face...

Each role a garment he wears with flair,
Living each life as 'twere his own;
Lascivious demon in hellish lair
Or prelate eyeing an earthly throne...
A song-and-dance man, whose voice is magic;
A fading film star who owns the stage;
He runs the gamut from blithe to tragic,
The Renaissance Actor of our Age.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 3/16/97


Bravelegs Ballad

When Bravelegs strode the misty moor,
His faithful hound beside him,
He shuddered as he neared his door,
For sore the lassies tried him.

"Who'll rid me of their fearfu' din,
Their crafty snares and tricks?
Ah, for a marsh to drown them in!!
--Except my Bard, Fair Dix.

"She singeth soft, she singeth low,
And charms my soul full sweetly,
And though I never knelt to foe,
She takes my heart completely...

"To horse, my love, my bonny lass,
Nor care for stormy weather;
Wrapt in my plaid, no wind shall pass;
--Then hie we for the heather!!"

- By Dixie J. Whitted 3/18/97


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