Val J. Chapman, It Flickered and Shone

 

James Nash was with us for our August Workshop, the writers were asked to write a piece then go back to it in the workshop and edit it. I have included both drafts from our talented secretary, Val so you may see how work can develop.

Ray Stearn, Chair, TCWG

 

‘It Flickered and Shone’

 

(First Draft)

It lit up my life, as I read by its light

Under the covers, in the darkness I lay

Until the noise was gone

Only then did I switch it on.

 

It lit up the pages, the print of the ages

The torch in my young hand

My guilty pleasure.

 

And then I heard a footstep land

And my Mum say “Val, are you asleep?”

“Yes, Mum”, I said, and shook my head.

————————————————————————————————————————————————-

(Second Draft)

I lay there in the darkness until the noise was gone.

Only then did I switch it on.

It lit up my life, as I read by its light.

It flickered and shone, and then it was gone.

 

It lit up the pages, the print of the ages.

The torch in my hand, until I heard a footstep land.

It flickered and shone, and then it was gone.

 

Under the covers, in darkness I lay

Until I heard my Mum say

“Val, are you asleep?”

“Yes, Mum”, I said, and shook my head.

It flickered and shone, and then it was gone.

 

© August 2021                                                                                                  Val J Chapman

Picture of Lady Lying by Mark Hales from Jennie Bailey Workshop 1st July 2021

Picture of lady lying

 

Are the roses in bloom? I am so tired

you work us so hard

Go cut me some roses,

we are so tired

I cannot go I’m stuck on the couch

 

The view through the window raise me high so I can see

no more we are too tired

you aren’t very caring, you hated me

we don’t hate you, but you work us too hard

 

If I get up I will fire you

there will be no job no money,

no food on your table

all you need do is pick some roses

 

© Mark Hales 1st July 2021

 

Disposable Moorland by Ray Stearn

 

Disposable Moorland

 

For the want of a burger white cotton grass was lost

For the want of a burger pure black peat was lost

For the want of  burger soaring skylarks were lost

For the want of a burger green soft rush was lost

For the want of a burger mad march hare was lost

For the want of a burger keen kestrel was lost

For the want of a burger bell heather was lost

For the want of a burger rich red grouse was lost

For the want of a burger the moorland was lost

For this is the barbie that lit the grass

That burned the peat

That singed the skylarks

That ravished the rush

That harried the hare

That killed the kestrel

That hashed the heather

That roasted the red grouse

That murdered the moorland

And all for the want of a barbequed burger

© Ray Stearn 23rd June 2021

May Day by Michelle Leigh

May Day

 

  She thought he’d really loved her

   In her heart a light had shone

But sadly not the case to be,

   for soon she’d learnt he’d gone.

She thought what did I do so wrong

 Oh my, what a mistake!

My friends were right  all along

 I should’ve stayed home eating cake.

The tears they flowed upon her

   whatever they would say

She felt that she was drowning

  And could only whisper ‘Help, May Day!’.

But life will soon get better

  as Winter turns to Spring

And May Day’s meaning changes

 to the good things life can bring.

So next time when you’re  floundering

  and don‘t know what to say,

Just stand up tall, be brave and sing

 out loud ‘Yay! It’s May Day!’

 

               Michelle Leigh

 

April Fool’s Day : Spaghetti Tree by Val J. Chapman

 

April Fool’s Day : Spaghetti Tree

 

“Can I have some money, Mum?”

My young son said to me.

“What for?” I asked,

“And how much do you want?”

He replied, “Only 50p”

 

“It’s a surprise”, he said,

“So I can’t tell you,

But I know you’ll like it

‘Cause I saw it on TV”.

 

“Go on then, if that’s all you want”,

I said, offering the required amount.

And off he skipped to the local shop

In search of a spaghetti tree.

(I knew that, ‘cause I’d seen it too)

 

And I knew what would happen next.

My son just loved spaghetti,

And until now hadn’t known it was

Manufactured, not grown, or sown.

 

I waited patiently for his return,

Preparing myself for tears.

I pictured his face when he found out the truth,

Though it didn’t transpire as I’d feared.

 

He ran in the door with a box in his hand

Which rattled as he ran.

Turned out the shopkeeper knew of the scam

And had stuck labels on all his packets.

“Plant it in a pot and water it weekly”, he’d said,

And you’ll soon see you have a spaghetti tree”.

 

 

© Val J. Chapman 1st April 2021