The Director

a poem by Ashwin Kumar T

The scriptwriters turn in,
The same old sizzling plots,
The actors wake up lazy,
They don’t have any original thoughts.

The technicians are big on budget,
Low on taking their shots,
The music rises to a noisy crescendo,
To fall flat on the trot.

Oh God!! How am I gonna make a blockbuster?
With this wayward lot.