Writing
∼ Poetry ∼ Film & Actor Scripts ∼ Fiction ∼ Reviews ∼
Poetry
Pathways
Anne Gaelan
EXTRACTS
-1-
Milestones
Kristy was the girl next door
Our world a sea fan silk of dreams
A wall, the wagon for our wild west waltz
Then we would cram ourselves with candies
In our Aladdin’s cave
Memory fragments, kaleidoscope of camera.
But we grew up.
We ventured through the woods and groves
Country lanes, then fields and hills.
Our world enlarged.
We swapped our friends and tales
Behind the rustic inn
Knew which girls had ponies
Who played japes on Halloween
Which boys played kiss and tell.
These rainbows twist and merge then disappear,
Forever to replay at will and whim;
A world that’s far away.
They led me here.
The world is open still.
There is a road ahead.
I’ll follow it.
-2-
January at Arnside Shore
We strolled
spied a heron surfing.
Cloud and drizzle cast grey
on sky and sand.
Herring gulls coasted
on silver pools
rippling and restless.
In the distance slate branches beckoned
with cadaver fingers
to black hills beyond.
Beauty ruled
a winter palate in charcoal
before the rainbow of spring.
-3-
Enemy in the Midst
1
The children pranced beside the pool
Unchained from toil or care of rule;
unthinking, brave, with laughter true.
2
Like eagles’ wings their arms spread wide.
In arcs they swooped as over tide
and swift their play in boldness grew.
3
One boy a bow with arrows made.
A knife he owned with hilt of jade
and whooped salutes proclaimed him king.
4
The soldiers wild, they heard a cry
so soft at first, then footsteps nigh
and scream so shrill around them ring.
5
The squaw she fell before them there
with clothing slashed, dishevelled hair
and bruises black upon her back.
6
Pursued was she, so swift as gale
their knight took aim. (He could not fail.)
Form fled with groans, no man to track.
7
And all his courtiers flung themselves
around the maid, like gallant elves,
their lady fair to soothe and save.
8
They brought her gifts from nature’s fare;
a crown of daisies for her hair
and berries blue from woodland cave.
9
She sobbed, beguiled, and trembling, smiled
Invaded worlds, so saved by child!
She raised her head, met azure eye.
10
Hand pointed far to distant hills
the cougar’s lair who lurks or kills
and underfoot the snakes to lie.
11
Yet all arose; walked hand in hand
together trekked on barren land
until her father Chief they saw.
12
She spoke, excited, in her tongue
with lilting tones her soft voice sung
He raised his hand, then smiled; no more.
13
They bowed, then left, adventure done,
and marched on home, their glory won
their secret locked within their hearts.
14
No more they pranced beside the pool
nor sought the hood so slain with tool.
For future years were warriors’ arts.
-4-
The Shore at Bolton-le-Sands
Tawny seafloor stretches
misshapen, feral
thrills ear with squelch,
delicious.
Oasis-like, pools stand;
film over lichen-wrapped rocks
while ahead lays the sand worm’s traces
and scattered stones
with etches of footprint and paw.
The story of today vanishes
sea- eroded
to revive in a green day;
Time’s cycle,
Eternity’s law.
CONTENTS
• Milestone
• January at AmnShore
• The Stone at Bolton-Le- Sands
• Lakeside Lovers
• By the Sea in Spring
• Arnside Beach Revisited
• Football Fitness Rap
• Barney’s Birthday Rap
• Hands of a Poet
• Still Waters
• The Goose Girl
• The Prisoner
• Asylum Seeker
• War and Peace
• Echoes
• On The Ode Les Travelled
• Pan Roman Polanski
• Wife in the Freezer
• Rainbow of Rue
• Flute Sonata
• Lie of the Rule
• Love Love
• The Maiden and Death
• Down Limerk Lane
Published by William Cornelius Harris Publishing
In collaboration with Second Chance
Supporting Mental Health in Performing Arts
ISBN 978-1-911232-00-1
Copyright © Anne Gaelan 2016 All rights reserved
c/o Open Door, 224 Jamaica Road, London SE16
Scripts & Sceenplays
Scene: a late eighteenth century living room in Paris around 1791.
A young man from Bangladesh loiters in the room. He is surprised by the appearance of a young woman of Caribbean mixed-race heritage.
Giselle, a young woman in her twenties is dressed in a loose-styled but elegant gown, cut low at the front. Her hair is knotted simply at the back and adorned prettily with imitation flowers.
Giselle:
Ah, it’s good the window is open onto the garden. The scent of flowers soothes.
Young Man:
Giselle- where, how did you meet him?
Giselle:
A theatre, after an opera. Antoine’s too intelligent for card games. At least you must know now that he’s sincere, cares not for race nor creed.
Young Man:
I know he deals in blood, the badge of all of you. It is a villain’s bond.
Giselle:
No, it’s the language of war, fight against oppression, those who subjugate and enslave.
As she speaks, Antoine de Saint Just, a stunning young man with arresting eyes and long, dark curly hair, enters. He is in his early twenties.
His hands slide down Giselle’s side as he passes her.
He snaps at the Young Man.
Saint Just:
You’re a fool! I will make you a free man and offer you a fair wage!
Giselle:
In truth, I love a brave man who will shed his own blood for the shores of France and to emancipate all men from the shackles of servitude. Antoine and I entreat you to be our friend and equal.
Addressing the Young Man earnestly.
Zamor, du Barry is the whore, not I. She haunts the shores of England, which can only mean that she’s a traitor and a spy. Please listen to us
She holds out her hand to him, who takes it and she leads him to a chair, where he sits uncertainly.
You shall stay to dinner and Antoine will furnish our table with wine. Then all of us will drink to a new world, the road to a bright new dawn in which France will lead others and break the tyranny of nations for centuries.
You will be free forever from the bitch who enslaved you and wrenched you from love.
Saint Just meets her eyes and indicates her to leave the room.
Alas, I have matters to attend to.
Saint-Just follows her outside the door’s entrance, then he pulls her towards him, kissing her violently in his passion.
Saint Just:
My Theodora.
Giselle:
Antoine, you’re surely descended from the Furies and whip a storm of fire.
© Anne Gaelan
Scene: A Hotel Room – Afternoon Amelia K: Forget? It’s burned in my memory; the rain, endless rain. When you’re homeless, there’s this treadmill of trudging through soaked streets, like forever. Will a church give you money, or a charity? If they say yes, you can breathe easy – for a few days at least. Some nights, I slept in a chair. Who’d ‘ve dreamed this up though? A Global Pandemic; wham, it’s everywhere; Asia, Africa, Europe; which leads to the Great Lockdown of London! They can’t just leave us cos it’s stranger danger! Suddenly I find folks come gathering us up, like flowers. So here I am, with a great British afternoon tea and a pot of Earl Grey in my own room with a bath and essentials! Big thanks for the lift mate and the dosh for my story. Gosh it’s cosy! Heaps better than by the Thames! Talk about you being just in time! That’s all I have to say, really, for now at least. Do drop in tomorrow. Promise me and I’ll let you go. © Anne Gaelan
Fiction
Reviews
