SUMMER WIND

On Toyah's twenty-fourth birthday...


On a sultry June midnight
The crescent Moon shone down
Through open bedroom window
Where I stood in my dressing gown.

I was gazing into the garden,
When a soft wind stirred my hair.
It told me she still thought of me,
And for once this life seemed fair.

I hadn't needed that gentle breeze
To prompt thoughts of her in me,
But still it whispered in the leaves
Of ivy, 'Remember me?'

It rustled louder in the laurel,
Then down the alley-way screamed
In the voice of a young girl calling,
'Mummy, I'm here!' it seemed.

This is nonsense I told myself.
Although comforted, I couldn't abide
This wind's pretence of returning a child
To her grieving mother's side.

'Go and play with the flowers,' I cried,
'Or send ripples through the corn.
Just leave this human heart alone
To mourn a beloved first-born.'

But that wind refused to leave me.
My cheek it gently kissed,
And enveloped me in the delicate scent
Of a baby still desperately missed.

Just then such vivid memories arose -
So clearly her face I could see.
It touched me so, I began to cry.
Then Toyah spoke to me...

'Was I not a part of you
A generation ago?
So how could I not be a part, too,
Of the grief you've been suffering so?

When my tiny body was laid to rest
Beneath that cemetery stone,
I followed you home to be with you
So we'd never be alone!'

BLANCHE INGRAM

God! How I detest you, Blanche Ingram
(whose dulcet tones ring out
in perfect harmony with his deft piano playing),
for your coquettish smile that draws
and holds his attention upon you alone.
Please excuse my curiosity, but have you not
enough suitors to amuse you already:
those lawyers, landed gentry and military men
who daily grovel, smitten, at your feet?
You are my undoing, Blanche Ingram.

Oh God!
I want so desperately to hate you,
yet I cannot, being a devout Christian,
summon that sentiment.
Hark how you sing -
and how he gazes adoringly into those eyes:
those beautiful eyes that have seen the World,
that have conquered three continents
and that now enchant my only love.
These emotions choke me day and night.
They stick in my throat and conjure
images in this poor, wretched mind
of a future blighted by dull, grey monotony:
a future without him, tinged green
with unbearable envy - another sin,
condemning me surely to hell's fire
at some point in my miserable future.

Oh, Blanche Ingram,
how could I ever hope to compare with you?
You - with your glossy, flaxen hair
and translucent complexion;
with that flawless form, draped
in delicate silks fresh from the Indies?
For I am plain and own
but two unbecoming cotton dresses, one grey, one black.
I am Jane Eyre, a governess:
am of that genus that you and your kind so abhor
and delight in mocking. I heard you just now
belittling me before your fellow guests,
who found your scathing words so amusing
that they laughed and laughed -
in spite of my extreme discomfort - at my expense.

You have crushed my self-worth, Blanche Ingram.
Yet you are a woman - like me.
In the eyes of God we are equals:
mere class does not hold sway in His Heaven.
There, I will be valued as much as you.
But, sadly, I am not in Heaven.
I am here, in the drawing room of Thornfield Hall,
where I sit sewing in the shadows
of a corner observing you and he
flirting and singing, whilst
I silently die inside of love unrequited.
I dare not speak my mind.
I blush with shame at my thoughts -
yet long with all my heart to act them out:
to rush up to that piano and sit between you,
then kiss his lips...in front of this entire assembly.
Oh, I am going insane.
I feel compelled to run out into the hall -
as if to hide these immoral thoughts
from God Himself.

Oh, Blanche Ingram, I know I should;
but how can I ever forgive you?
Your transgression against me is too great.
Not only have you robbed me
of my only hope of future happiness,
but your very presence has condemned me
to eternal damnation -
for, at this moment
I would willingly renounce my very Soul
to be in your shoes today...

 

KIMI

A protest...


Kimi, I was appalled today
when I heard of your pathetic affray
with Sergio. It was so unfair
to black his eye without a care.
Who, I wonder, do you think you are
to have the right to go that far -
like an arrogant child who can only see
his own point of view. It baffles me
how it has never occurred to you
that he could have ambitions too,
and surely you realise everyone knew
you turned in on him 'cos he's faster than you.
If you hadn't broken the rules that day,
Sergio would have streamed away.
Oh wouldn't it pain you to have to admit
defeat by a younger man more fit:
A driver who'll someday reach the top,
as you watch your name down the ratings drop.
So, Kimi, all to you I can say,
is if you can't play fair, then stay away!

WOODLAND ECHOES

Wandering alone in the Forest of Sherwood
for hour upon hour in the depths of the wood.
Then a grassy knoll comes into view
beneath dappled shade of trees entwined.
I lay down and through half-closed eyes, I find
myths in these patches of blue.

I begin to doze and peculiar dreams
filled with outlaws of old and screams
awaken me with a sudden jolt,
to find clouds have come to obscure the Sun -
my adventure no longer seems such fun
and the trees sigh my name, so I bolt.

But all these paths appear the same,
so I haven't a clue which way I came
and the notion of spending a night alone
in this haunted forest fills me with dread -
I'd never be found should I end up dead.
Oh if only I'd brought my phone!

Now in the undergrowth something is rustling.
It's far too measured to be an animal bustling.
'Who's there?' I cry in wavering tone.
There's no reply but that ominous sound
appearing to come from all around.
How I wish I'd stayed at home!

It dawns on me that I could become prey
to this something that stalks these woods today.
Listen! I think there's more than one...
I stand quite still and around me gaze.
There's nothing to be seen in this vast green maze,
yet my senses urge me to run.

But before I have time to even think,
something I glimpse that's gone in a blink.
A flash of Lincoln Green, I swear,
just shot between ferns and the Major Oak
and just then, to others I'm certain it spoke.
To breathe now, I hardly dare.

So I throw myself down onto hands and knees
and dive beneath the ferns and leaves,
praying I'll be safe in here.
I lie quite still, then begin to choke.
For I find myself suddenly engulfed in smoke,
then hear voices raised in a cheer.

Gingerly emerging from my hidey-hole,
to see steam billowing from a wooden bowl
suspended over a blazing fire,
while all around a raucous gang
of grubby misfits sing and bang
on a drum in their odd attire.

I must have strayed through a chink in time,
and I'm strangely entranced by their haunting rhyme.
It's all becoming so surreal -
the sights, the sounds, the smells of roasting
rabbit flesh and flat bread toasting.
This lifestyle has strange appeal.

As I watch, unseen, a sudden shout
from high in a tree prompts mad dash about.
Then one man grabs arrows and bow.
He shouts a command that the others soon follow,
retrieving their weapons from a dead tree hollow.
And off in stealth they go.

As I watch them leave, the very air
seems to close behind them - I can only stare
at the curious ripple that restores my time.
There's no longer a sign they were ever here -
no cooking pot, fire, nor casket of beer...
just an echo of obsolete rhyme.

 

THE TIME LORD

River's song...


Moving closer
To where the digital dots join up,
Bringing fifth dimension to thought -
Touch to sight, oh yes, finally
Something tangible
Stepping out of fantasy
Into the living flesh:
This Alien
In the shape of man...

Oh God, he's dressing me in rainbows,
In his multi-dimensional box
That spans eternity.
I can have it all, he promises
With those timeless eyes,
And it's coming ever closer...

I'm sucked into the plasma.
Oh, that first kiss...the touch of his lips
Moving south, gradually conquering
Uncharted Downs, the heath in flames.
Defences razed in wild submission,
As his desire caresses
The womanhood to life...

His pounding second heart
Slips between my breasts -
The ultimate gift, oh yes,
And his spark takes life
Beyond my extra rib, yes, oh yes,
And we come together,
The Doctor and I,
At last
In time.

URBAN RENEWAL

The bulldozers tore down Canal Street today,
These centuries old terraced homes.
The Luftwaffe couldn't have wreaked more havoc -
They're reduced to a pile of stones.

The government describe it as "Urban Renewal:
Improvements for Better Lives"
But tradition they've thoughtlessly stolen this day
From generations of Lancashire wives.

Amongst the rubble and rising dust
A frail old lady appears.
She seems to be searching for something important,
As she's so distressed and in tears.

I try to lead her away to safety,
But she kneels to reach beneath
The broken stairs and window frames
To retrieve a Christmas wreath.

It's plastic, faded and squashed almost flat,
But she holds it lovingly close
To her bosom as if it were a child.
Then she turns to me looking morose.

"My Harry bought this the year we were wed,
In nineteen-forty-three,
And it's hung in our closet ever since - this token
Of his undying love for me.

When I lost him in France the following year,
Through this I felt him near.
Then when they came to evict me, I left
My precious memento here.

Things must change I understand that,
But the sorrow is almost too much.
For they've moved me into a brand new flat
Where I've never felt Harry's touch."

TERMINAL

for Annabelle...


It feels good, doesn't it?
Go on...just one more double Vodka,
followed by a Benedictine chaser.
See how the faces blur
and voices seem far away.

Oh, and you can't possibly refuse
a couple of Rum and Cokes -
such a rich, vibrant colour.
How their magic lifts you:
you're incredibly high and invincible.

Now, how about a Gin and Tonic?
Or perhaps two? No, more than that.
Three? Four? More?
Before you know it
you're dancing on the ceiling.

The floor begins to lurch and roll,
but that only adds to the fun.
Being eighteen and euphoric is...WOW!
You can drink all you want in public now
an adult you've legally become.

You're really on a roll now:
flirting, teasing, flashing boobs and bum.
You feel like a celebrity -
never dreamt you could be this bold.
All attention's exclusively yours.

And those men who dare to dare you?
Bah! You'll show them!
True to form, this feminist
will drink them under the table -
every last one of them.

And you do, too...quickly losing count
of precisely how many pints, just
'Keep 'em coming!' you slur,
until club lights disappear
into darkness...then flashing blue light.



You find yourself in a hospital bed.
Your head is splitting, you're violently sick
and your eyeballs and skin have turned yellow.
Your kidneys are failing, your liver can't cope
and the doctors fear for your life.

That confident you from the nightclub last week
has totally disappeared.
You're quaking, sobbing
and pleading for help
like a lost and terrified child.

You beg, grovel and bargain with God,
'Spare my life and I promise I'll stop!'
But you know deep inside
it's just another lie.
You've been a drunk since the age of twelve.



At twenty-one you're laid to rest,
your parents and sisters are bereft.
Your mother blames herself, you know.
She believes her career she placed above you,
and this is how you coped.

The sad truth is...it was no-ones fault -
just a weakness within you.
No freak accident took your life,
nor cancer cells out of control.
But, tragically, you had a choice,
and you took the terminal route.