A Poem for Thursday.

Once again we met at The Gateway Centre opposite the beautiful Golden Gates of Warrington's Town Hall.

The Bold Street Writers.

And the prompt...very apt for the moment... came from Pat who had introduced me to this wonderful group a few years before.

"The Unexpected"

Well there is so much unexpected at this moment in history...though maybe there may have been more before the days of media coverage of each and every tiny change of mood and tone but we will never know and that could have been a blessed bonus!

This is my offering.

Unexpected

Twice I looked  to find it true.

Not daring to believe my eyes.

The screen  flickered, night was old.

From my companion came sighs,

Disbelief. Fear tugged. Anxiously 

We watched. Numbers rose and fell.

The outcome boards were black

The names above were bold.

The list grew longer, stronger

Were the thoughts we shared.

Mouths tightened, eyes narrowed,

Or eyes wide, mouths agape.

You think you've seen it all

By the time your pension's drawn.

We made another coffee, sleep

Would have to wait 'til  results

Crashed the top line, powered

Through, above, over, beyond.

Whose dreams would crash? And

Whose would soar?

The band played on while the

Dancers danced. What should we do

At a time like this? Should we 

Laugh or weep? Some will rejoice.

Losers lose and winners win.

As it is in life, so in death.

And midnight makes you morbid.

So we crack open the brandy.

We plump up feather cushions

For the necessary comfort in

The long haul.In the small hours

As we wait for light to filter

Through net curtains, and brocade. Then 

When spirits are at lowest and

Souls dried of emotion comes

The long-awaited verdict after

Lonely days, and years

Have passed in the waiting full

Of hope, despair and longing?

A faithful partner at his side.

A shining spotlight  on him. he

Holds his head up high and ...Waits . 

But the Master of Ceremonies in

Red velvet jacket speaks. 

And we hold our breath in

Expectation. At last a result.

The mirrored ball is lifted high and

And Anton  claims his prize.

Now those of the distant shore.... Amerikay!... may not know how long and hard Anton du Beck has fought for the "Glitter Ball...the prize of Strictly come Dancing"...but at a time like this here and across the pond...we need some light relief in our lives.

Vive Le Anton!

Thursday Writers Group

Bold Street Writers

Today Margaret was the prompt giver and she laid out a number of strips of paper each with an opening sentence from which we had to write a dialogue.

This was mine!

So just about fifty minutes later and a lot of scribbling...well you can see that from the pic!...this was the script I came up with.......

(...Belfast voice...)

Dad:- "What have you done with my pills? I need them! I know you've moved them mother, you're a bloomin' nuisance with your tidying up all the time. Land's sake let the dust lie, It'll be there when we're dead and gone. And I'll be dead and gone if I can't find my pills.

 I can feel myself comin' over all faint already. I'm gonna sit down a wee while and collect my thoughts, pull myself together.

Mum:-  "Sorry"

Dad:-   "And what the heck has happened to that cushion? You know I have to have yon there cushion at my back otherwise I will end up with one of my agonizing backs again, and I'll be laid up in bed for a fortnight and then you'll know all about it.When you're traipsing up and down those stairs! I can't be sitting in that chair with that cushion there...even if it does match the chair better that mine. 

I know how your mind works, I really do."

Mum:-  "Sorry".

Dad:-  "Has the paper arrived? I haven't seen it anywhere. Don't tell me that paper boy has given up again.

 I can't stand lazy people like him, no get up and go and no loyalty to his customers. 

Well mum you'll just have to pop across to the newsagent and get it, and while you're at it tear a strip of  that woman over there for not making sure her best customers get their Dailies on time. 

What's the point at getting the paper at ten in the morning? Sure it's old news by then. I'd go myself but I'm feeling a bit woosey,  I need to get those wee red pills. 

What have you done with them you auld fool?"

Mum:-  "Sorry".

Dad:-  While you're over at the shop get me some ciggies. I'd give you the money but sure my wallet's up the stairs in the other jacket pocket and I couldn't make it up there at the moment. Sure I can pay you later after I get over this wee bout of dizziness.A cup of tea before you go would see me through 'til you're back, and make sure you put the three sugars in, last time I'll swear there was none, and the tea was flipping bitter.

 I'll just have a wee bit of shuteye 'til you're back."

Mum:-  "Sorry".

Dad:-  "Have you gone yet? 

Mother do you hear me? 

You're deaf you auld biddy!

 Deaf as a doorpost.

 I could be dying here and you'd not give two hoots!

 Do you hear me?

 I'm not going to shout! Sure I don't have the energy.

 I would have the energy if I could get hold of those bloody pills.

Are they down the side of the couch where you sit? Why would you move them?

 I said why would you move them?

 I may as well talk to the wall for all you care.

 Is that cup of tea coming? Three sugars mind. And the paper would be grand before lunch for crying out loud.

If that's you by the front door I'll do without the tea, if you're on your way across. 

Ciggies, remember ciggies.

 Mind like a sieve mother, mind like a sieve.

God I feel lousy. Where the heck are those wee red devils? If I were a fit man I'd be up looking for them. I would. I know I would. That's the kind of man that I am. That's the kind of fellow, feeelooow, fellooo.....".( falls to the ground).

Mum:-  "Sorry!!"  (Slams the front door and gets into a taxi with a suitcase )

We are often a gruesome lot of writers at the group...we women!!!