Scratch pad: poems

Upon the stage of fate, in Deptford’s gloom,

Where cobblestones echoed with whispered dread,

Marlowe, with gasping breath, met his doom,

"Neptune’s ocean clears not this blood," he said.

In that dimly lit, foreboding room,

The world had lost a voice, too early, too soon.

..…

It begins with a murmur, a sigh in the trees,

Then, droplets commence, carried soft on the breeze,

Tapping on windows, like spirits that prance;

The earth, parched and longing, lifts its face to the dance,

Embracing each drop, with a grateful sigh,

A perfume of rain descends from the sky.

The rivers and streams, once silent and slow,

Now babble and chatter, as they swell and flow.

…..

Write no more of what could be, of shadows in the night,

But turn instead to what is real, and hold her to you, tight.

For love, when lived, in flesh and blood, surpasses every tale,

The poet’s dream, no longer sought, in her, at last, unveiled.

Scratch pad: Limerick

A baron from old Aberdeen,

Declared, "Our weather’s so verily mean!"

One minute it’s sunny,

The next, it's all runny,

It’s like nature’s own washing machine!

Scratch pad: Riffing on “The Man Who Was Thursday”

INQUISITOR:

“The Central Anarchist Council plan chaos, hidden behind the guise of philosophical debate and social reform. We need someone on the inside, someone who can navigate the complexities of their ideology and expose them. We’ve managed to secure you a position within their ranks. You will be known as ‘Thursday.’“

…..

THURSDAY:

“Our society is built on the precipice of a great chasm, one of inequality and injustice. It is our duty to bridge this divide, not with words, but with action. I propose we start by undermining the false security in which the complacent find their comfort. Our actions must resonate with the disaffected, turning their passive discontent into active defiance. We must be the spark that ignites the fire of revolution.”

…..

SUNDAY:

“Your pursuit has been most enlightening. But you must understand, everything you’ve experienced, every revelation and doubt, was by design. You see, the true anarchy I sought to sow was not in the streets of London, but within the confines of your own beliefs, your trust in order, in structure, in other people.”

THURSDAY:

“In seeking to undermine what I believed, you’ve only strengthened my resolve. Chaos cannot build and does not sustain. Only through understanding and cooperation can a better future be created.”

SUNDAY:

“You’ve journeyed far in search of answers, grappling with shadows and illusions. It’s time you understood the true nature of our endeavour. The Central Anarchist Council, the missions, the internal strife—each element was meticulously crafted not to sow chaos, but to cultivate a select group capable of transcending conventional boundaries of thought and action. Our world is on the cusp of monumental change. To navigate this transition, we need leaders unbound by traditional dichotomies. You were chosen to be one those leaders.”

THURSDAY:

“Why the deceit?”

SUNDAY:

“Because true understanding cannot be given; it must be earned. You needed to experience the ambiguity, the doubt, the struggle, to truly grasp the complexities of governance and freedom. Look beyond the confines of our society, our ideologies. The future demands a new kind of leadership, one that embraces complexity and navigates uncertainty with wisdom and empathy. This was your true mission, to be a guide on the journey towards a more enlightened future.”

Scratch pad: poem

In solitude's shadow, I walk alone,

A self-imposed exile from all I've known.

My truth, enclosed within sternest stone,

In fear of ever being shown.

Scratch pad: poem

In quest of life's grand purpose, here I muse,

Upon this earthly stage, where all must play;

Each heart in search of truth, in time does choose

The path it walks, beneath night or day.

Scratch pad: Shakespeare in Deptford

Marlowe: (gasping) Neptune’s ocean shall not wash my blood clean from thy hand.

Shakespeare: Forgive me, Kit. But the world must never know the extent of your genius. Your plays, your words… they will be mine.

As Marlowe slumps to the floor, Shakespeare quickly gathers the manuscripts.

Shakespeare: You were the greatest, Marlowe. But now, you make me immortal with your death.

Exiting the tavern into the dark, cobblestone streets of Deptford, Shakespeare disappears into the night, Marlowe’s masterpieces in his possession.

Scratch pad: some panto jokey ideas

Emily: “Do you know anything about the Enchanted Forest?”

Tom: “I know it’s filled with magical creatures, enchanted rivers, and a WiFi signal that’s absolutely rubbish!”

…..

Tom: “This forest sure is magical, Emily. I just saw a squirrel playing chess with a rabbit.”

Emily: “Really? Who won?”

Tom: “I think they called it a draw. The squirrel was too busy collecting nuts and the rabbit kept hopping around the board!”

…..

Forest Sprite 1: “We forest sprites only eat natural, organic, locally-sourced food.”

Forest Sprite 2: “Yes, like moonbeams and morning dew!”

Tom: “So, what’s for dessert? Cloud fluff?”

Forest Sprite 1: “Don’t be ridiculous! We have star sprinkles!”

…..

Emily: “Fairy Gem, you look so young! What’s your secret?”

Fairy Gem: “Oh, I use a bit of fairy dust and some enchanted anti-ageing cream.”

Emily: “That works?”

Fairy Gem: “Of course! I’m actually 400 years old.”

Emily: “Wow! You don’t look a day over 395!”

…..

 

Fairy Gem: “My wand has three settings: Low, Medium, and Oops!”

Emily: “What’s ‘Oops’?”

Fairy Gem: “Let’s not find out!”

…..

 

Fairy Gem: “I tried a new spell to clean my house.”

Emily: “Did it work?”

Fairy Gem: “Well, the dust is gone, but so is the house!”

…..

 

Enchantress Lily: “I once tried to turn a prince into a frog, but I made a tiny mistake in the spell.”

Tom: “What happened?”

Enchantress Lily: “Now he’s a very confused kangaroo!”

…..

Mayor Goodfellow: “We’re getting a new statue in the village square!”

Villager: “Of what?”

Mayor Goodfellow: “Me, of course!”

Villager: “At least it won’t talk as much as you do.”

…..

Court Jester: “Your Majesty, you look well-rested.”

King: “Indeed, I’ve started using a weighted blanket.”

Court Jester: “Does it work?”

King: “Certainly! It’s so heavy, I can’t get out of bed!”

Scratch pad (WIP ideas)

Sorry I’m late. First, my car wouldn’t start. Then, my coffee betrayed me—spilled all over my lap. A bird decided my head would make a great nest. Lost my phone in a puddle. Had to ask for directions from a mime, who was as unhelpful as you’d expect.

Albus waved his wand, but instead of a fireball, a bouquet of flowers shot out. “Oh, come on!”

His opponent, an evil sorcerer named Cedric, paused. “Did you just try to defeat me with… roses?”

Albus sighed. “Look, it’s not me, it’s the wand. I bought it from a wizard named Gary who said it had ‘personality’.”

Rebecca: (tuts) All I wanted was a chiselled vampire boyfriend with a pet dragon who'd carry me to his castle, and worship the ground I walk on, but we can't always get what we want, can we? Well, I suppose there's Thor, Aquaman, and maybe a Minotaur... if he drives the right car. Who am I kidding? I only have eyes for Prince Elrondar from my novel. A man who'd lay down his kingdom for me. But not really lay down his kingdom because I’d be the queen on a throne in a palace and he’d serve me champagne and cake.

Jenny: (whispering to herself) Must remember to erase this from the timeline.

Sarah: Excuse me, did you say “erase this from the timeline”?

Jenny: Uh, no, I said, um, “I want to lease this pantomime.” Yeah, that’s it

Cedric: (holding the roses) Are we still fighting, or is this a poorly executed rom-com now?

Albus: (sighs) Honestly, I can't even tell anymore.