Poetry and Stories by Dixie

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To Tim Curry
Classic Cinema
The Maestro
He's Our Star
Tim Thoughts
Mother Goose Revisited

To Tim Curry

This is a love letter, tenderly written,
Offering homage to one who knows
Precisely how a neck should be bitten;
Who can roar like a tiger
Or purr like a kitten;
Whatever the role, his genius shows.

Sweet or sadistic,
Seductive, charming,
Whip in hand,--or butler's tray
(Watch his "Wadsworth,"
Demeanor disarming
As he seeks the Clue
In that killer play.

A pot-pourri of unique creations
Where "Frank-N-Furter holds pride of place;
His sweet transvestite's machinations
Will triumph over time and space.

Transcending evil and good alike,
He lives for pleasure of various kinds;
As Eddie loves his motor-bike,
Frank loves messing with our minds...

When Nemesis Riff Raff, dog-in-the-manger,
Trains on Our Hero his laser beam,
The audience shudders to see his danger:
"Go under the curtain, Frank!" we scream.
(His lifestyle wasn't that extreme.)

And Amadeus, adrift in glory,
Faun-faced youngster with magic fingers;
Dead too young, but alive in story;--
Tim ensured that his laughter lingers.

There's Death's friend, Darkness,
In Legend lurking,
Seeking Innocence for his mate,
And shy Thornton Poole
So tirelessly working
To teach Stallone to enunciate...

And here's "Miss Hannigan's" scapegrace brother
Kidnapping Annie for "Easy Street-"ness,
While Bernadette Peters, playing her "mother,"
Gets soundly kissed by Mr. Sweetness.
(Lucky girl.)

The Brackett family, mild and bucolic
Until a salesman crosses their sill
To meet his fate in a deadly frolic
(When miffed, the family tends to kill).

Behold the beaming buccaneer:
'Tis Long John Silver, to the life!
Jim Hawkins sees his bluff good cheer
(His handshake may conceal a knife...).
For bold adventure he'll set sail
And island-buried treasure;
Ay, 'tis a dark and bloody tale
And absolute the pleasure.

This scratches the surface of Curry's oeuvre;
His range is endless, his voice sublime.
His "sweet transvestite" should be in the Louvre
Like the Mona Lisa, outlasting time.

So we watch and listen and barely breathe,
Willing slaves to his darling arts.
Set on his brow the laurel wreath
--And in his hands, our loyal hearts.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 4/23/96


Classic Cinema

For all fans of "Rocky Horror,"
From a fellow Tim-adorer
Here's a brief appreciation of our boy;
Whether dressed in silk or leather,
Transylvanians, together:
"He's a darling and a treasure and a joy!"

His "Dr. Frank-N-Furter"
Advocates an alien lifestyle
That explodes where sensuality begins:
As he lowers velvet lashes
Over passion's flaring ashes,
His smile suggests undreamed-of venial sins.

Yes, our Hero sings and dances
And initiates romances
With assurance and a subtlety supreme;
Love god from another planet
(Well, you could ask Brad or Janet),
For pleasure, absolute, is Frankie's theme.

Each performance Curry-powered
("Virgins cheerfully deflowered;
Servants whipped, ex-lovers slaughtered with a song"),
Still the audience is cheering;
His misdeeds are so endearing;--
The "good doctor," though he tries, can do no wrong...

Who can read the Curryian riddle?
--He's quicksilver on a griddle,
Fearlesss, dangerous, disarming, all by turns.
This dark diamond of an actor
Proves that genius is a factor;
In our hearts his mythic image brightly burns.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 6/6/96


The Maestro

Be his role farcical or tragic,
Tim Curry's magic;
That is the fact.
(And, to make his rivals feel good,
He could teach Gielgud
How to act.)

When a line needs a feather-light touch,
He has the right touch
That makes the scene.
Silken, suave, always surprising,
He's mesmerizing
Is what I mean.

In a Disney film
Or doing Shakespeare,
He's any rake's peer,
Well-steeped in crime:
Sykes or Long John Silver,
--Not to worry,
It's Tim Curry
Every time.

When you can't get out
To see a movie,
It's still groovy;
Try books on tape.
Treat yourself to Curryian histrionics:
No better tonics
Help you escape...

He can go from charming
To alarming,
From evil preacher
To Puckish elf;
Totally eclectic,
He's electric,--
His greatest creature
Is Tim himself.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 6/6/96


He's Our Star

(with apologies to Cole Porter)

He's Our Star,
There's no doubt about it;
He's Our Star,
You can hear us shout it;
He's Mrs. Curry's
Beaming baby boy,
He's the Holy City,
A Beethoven ditty,
"The Ode To Joy."

He's Our Star,
He's a Rembrandt painting;
He's Our Star,
--Got the girls all fainting;
He's the fire pure
Of the Koh-I-Noor ablaze;
He's a mouse by Disney
(Well, he's classic, isn' he?);
He's Bordelaise...

He's unique
And we all adore him
(Could go on
But don't want to bore him);
He's the guy our folks
Are hoping we may meet;
He's an actor's actor,
Doesn't need Max Factor,
--And we're at his feet.

So for Tim
Let us all start writing:
Send him scripts
That are so inviting
All the critics rave;
His banner, wave
On high...
Tim Curry is Our Star,
--And what a guy!

- By Dixie J. Whitted 6/7/96


Tim Thoughts

Let's talk about Tim,
And all of his charms,
And wouldn't it be heaven
To be wrapped in his arms...?

To see that warm smile,
Those eloquent eyes,
Suggesting several Paradises
One might surmise.

Or maybe that Voice,
All honey and heat...
Dissolving our bones
As we sit at his feet...

The sinister side
Hid under the bright;--
The seeker of lost things
That wanders at night...

Is that Tim, our Pied Piper,
Just passing the house,--?
Out, all, and follow him!!
- Your Fellow Mouse.

- By Dixie J. Whitted 12/16/96


Mother Goose Revisited

Twinkle, twinkle, little Tim;
May your starshine never dim.
Far above all lesser planets,--
Let us be your Brads and Janets...
As you glisten far above,
Know you have our fondest love,
So don't fret and never worry:
Merry Christmas, Mr. Curry!!

- By Dixie J. Whitted 12/20/96

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Thanks to Christine Z for providing the Tim Curry picture

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