I've just been trying to find the origin of the phrase the jig is up. I know it from the Sherlock Holmes stories and assumed it was from Shakespeare, most things are. Holmes' usually begins an investigation with the phrase the games afoot, which is Shakespeare from Henry IV, but the jig is up is apparently 15th century, a jig being a dance and when it stops you have to face the consequences.
the jig is up and he knows the jig is up
and he must march smiling into his future
the certainties now uncertain
his pit props so much matchwood
this is everyone’s experience
but he had deluded himself he was special
had kidded himself for far too long
the piper walks over
demands his payment
The poem is a draft. My wells of creativity are rather dry at the moment. But here's one I've been toying with for sometime.
Where Have All The Plastic Flowers Gone?
the ones my mother got free
with each packet of Daz
the ones she said brightened up the place
the ones woven into a circlet
you wore to that festival
the year everyone was wearing them
the ones we put on the grave in winter
to bring colour in the gray season
placed in a yellow plastic pot
just where have all the plastic flowers gone
every sun faded petal
every split stem
every deconstructed bloom
they’ve gone nowhere
they bulk out the landfill
and that my friend is just one of our problems
To be honest I don't like the ending, I think it's too telling, but sometimes when I put up an unsatisfactory poem it prompts me to redraft it.
Until next time.