Be Ye Verdana?
copyright 30 March 2014
Flit and fly
Fly high, by an’ by
Be, who you bee?
Why would you want to be a bee?
Being a busy bee buzzing with verbs
Before you be like a buzz word
Black gold on green,
Stripes sure to be seen
Never fumble humble bumble
Verdana just be writing somethin’
So who you be?
Verdana honey, Bee?
Copyright © 1979
Patricia L Graham
JOGGER'S DELIGHT
The five o'clock alarm,
An electric storm to the brain,
Surges through a limp, blissful body
Buried beneath a blanket pile,
Jerking it into a jaded constriction of wakefulness,
From some exotic haven of computerised luxuries.
A hand, automatically activated,
Forthrightly stamps out the infernal summons
and promptly relaxes again;
Eyelids closing on a now vacant screen -
Light years too late ...
Yawning, stretching, sniffing, scratching;
A shivering, languid, sour-mouthed jogger
Stumbles out of bed,
With half a remembrance of yet another pledge
To assault the insiduous flab.
And on such a windy ... drizzling ... frost-bitten morning!
Dedicated to all those with a zest for life or wishful thinking.
Flash Fiction Story (Beginning of …)
An Empty Source
by Patricia L Graham © 16.12.12
His birth mother had had a difficult pregnancy the bespectacled social worker stated in a calming soft voice, her fingers flitting through the pages of the modest file. She looked up at the twenty-seven year old she had come to know as Anton Wallace over the past months, having taken him through the process, prepared him for the moment of truth and possible disappointment.
In his case, the awful truth was that his birth mother had been raped. She had at first hidden the fact because she felt ashamed and was undoubtedly traumatised by the assault. She was fifteen at the time. The alleged rapist was an older man, a family friend. The man was never prosecuted; the relevant file details being sketchy at best. Amy, his mother, ended up in care following the family fallout. She agreed for the baby to be adopted prior to giving birth. The birth was difficult and it was noted that she did not bond with the child and could not even manage to bottle feed. There were concerns for her wellbeing and fears for the baby’s safety from the outset. Mother and baby were separated at the hospital. She did not want further contact and there were no records of her making enquiries about the child. There were no pictures of his mother on file.
Hearing this brief account, Anton slumped back in the chair, feeling grateful the room was dim lit and without windows: contained, isolated, safe. He felt thoroughly drained and totally abandoned; a feeling that haunted him since his earliest recollection despite the affection afforded by his adoptive parents. The social worker checked if he was able to continue, passing him a glass of water. His throat, too dry to speak, he nodded a desiccated yes.
He wondered if the ground would suddenly crack and swallow him, but he had come this far. Nervous, he slowly reached for the file in front of him, the longest stretch in his life: a few centimetres.
***
THIS MUST BE THE TWILIGHT ZONE
© Patricia L Graham 14.7.13
For what shall it profit, profit a man
When they draw from others
Take what they can
This must be the twilight zone
When I wrote of slavery and the greed that it bred
Raping past, present, future; raping the dead
They do it, they work it, by sleight and by plan
For what shall it profit, profit this man?
The bare-face and brazen laugh to the bank
Shameless and careless, covetous this skank
Mere words cannot fathom, they walk in Cain’s way
Devour your talent, leave you to pray
The poor sacrificed for fantasy treat
For fat cats to laugh at and bring no relief
This must be the twilight zone
***
POPCORN HOT DAY
copyright 17.7.13 - Patricia L Graham
Hedge cut, rose bush trimmed
Seeds, nuts, water for birds to drink
Water wings, paddling pool ready for dipping
Strawberries and cream fresh from the fridge
A sweltering night, dripping sweat
No wind today, no clouds in a pastel blue sky
Only smoking barbecue drifts
Bites into burgers and roasted fish
As laughter echoes through searing heat
Sound is dulled, glancing mirage of rain downhill
Sunlight prickles, reddens lighter skins
Fluttering grandma’s fan bought 1976
Concrete popcorn hot, ground cracked, parched
Hosepipe ban as rivers run dry
James Brown rasps; it’s hot, popcorn hot
So here's a short play below that I wrote recently around the topic of slavery for a competition where it was unsuccessful. It's called "Tangenta's Dilemma".
COMING OF AGE – For Streatham Festival – 2015
by Patricia L Graham © 10.5.15
Coming of age, remembering days
When life was full of surprise
From hot pants and minis; you shaved, pierced, went clubbing
Alcohol flowing all night
Coming of age, when love brought heartbreak
With music and dancing till light
Now making plans, passing exams
Buy your first car then leave home
Coming of age, turning the page
From paper to wild plastic dreams
From black and white tele to internet selling
More apps for your mobile’s new friends
Coming of age, divorce is the rage
Friends throwing parties to mark
Divide all you make
For children, their sake
Visit at hols and weekends
Coming of age, reaching the stage
While looking back, feel the relief
Past fashions and trends so you could pretend
To be someone else, not yourself
Coming of age, as memories fade
Sharing experience of life
To yourself be true, whatever you do
Make someone glad you survived
LIFE CYCLE – by Patricia L Graham © 10.5.15
(For Streatham Festival 15)
Took first breath with toothless grin
Then greeted mum with such a din
All too soon, found your feet
Tasting world through dribbling teeth
Nappies blowing in the wind
You sat in pram, the cat watching
Now big enough for Punch and Judy
Seaside trips with Tom and Susie
Then came time to go to school
Learning all those golden rules
Stand in line, don’t be late
Remember you must stack your plate
Reading books, your favourite was
Ladybirds with easy words
Pocket money, lucky dips
Comics, sweets, your first kiss
Singing “Brown Girl in a Ring”
Those conker fights you played to win
For cola cubes or marble balls
Football cards or mini toys
Teenage years came all too quick
With spots and zits, taking the mick
Fighting bullies in the playground
Learning how to keep your head down
Left school, met love - of your life
Met love maybe once or twice
Third time round, guess you got lucky
Parent to a dribbling baby ...
Working hard for family’s sake
The ups and downs of life to date
The aches and pains you feel today
You never thought of yesterday