Poet & Performance Artist
Happy new year!
Fall in Green are pleased to announce their upcoming single, Jabberwocky, on 27th January 2021, which is Lewis Carroll’s birthday. You can pre-save it here:
https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/fallingreen/jabberwocky
Surrealist artist Mark Sheeky made the Jabberwock model. For more details visit his website.
Patchwork overcoat of amber
waits for gust
Hark back to the days when
we used to store sunlight
Leaves
sighing
after the laughter of summer
when our green architecture
supported flowery pedestals
We used to store sunlight
from green to brown to black to light, and back, we will return
Juicy to dry willow trails
Crunch
Cracked midribs
Mellow to the core
before
the freeze
What was vert, grün
turns to
schokoladebraun
noir
We will show you the passage of time
Rest in peace, dear chlorophyll
Our russet wreaths lie in
Pembrey Woods, with fellow garlands
We used to store sunlight
Richly veined pipelines
of original solar panels
Memories of snap
Snap
Snap
Snaps of gold
Swallowed
Leaves
Protection and fun
We make hedgehog duvets
Snails’ hover-boards
We used to store sunlight
I will be performing my poem, An Uncanny Solitary (from my latest collection, Solitary Child, Friend of Immortals, as well as a host of other local poets on the Cheshire East Library Facebook pages 🙂
An abandoned cycle lies flat
Wheel spinning
Waiting
Fat graffiti rests on guitar curves
Thoughts of bored teens
The word web in white
The house where you lived is now an art collective
Ghosts squeezing under your door
Your scullery a gallery
Your en-suite an office
Crimson brick café across the road
Coffee sippers gaze at the spinning wheel,
at the framed prints in the window,
unaware of our pilgrimage euphoria
Light song of metal screech
Lime green tram casts shadows
on the chequered path
Here is your home-town
we knew only from lips, letters, pixels
A leaf pulled from a hedge
on the dashboard it dries
in the air of our ancestors
From Wilkommen Zum Rattenfanger Theater (2019)
In Bielefeld my sister Syl and I stopped to take pictures of the place where we think our mother lived. Magical.
In Greenwood, studded with crab and perry,
out of tempest mind tumbled Caliban.
So say yeomen of sixteenth century,
‘Bring thee where the crabs grow,’ said the madman.
Drinking proverbial acidity,
Gossip’s Bowl was spice sipped by Bidford folk
in restaurants of ancient forestry
acid draughts intoxicate shallow jokes.
But three crabbed months had soured themselves to death.
‘He’ll never have Miranda,’ they concurred.
The Bidford souls muttered under their breath
‘Goddess and a madman?’ with spoon they stirred.
‘Whose apple thou art, gem grown from deep root?’
‘Yours, but I will never bear sweet fruit.’
Copyright © Deborah Edgeley
Ball of wool on floor rolled between both characters
MUNGO: How are you finding it?
PRUDEY: (scratches back of neck) Bit itchy, to be honest, especially when I’m doing my 3 o’clock wash. My paw bumps into it
MUNGO: Hmm, it’s not as if we’d go that far though, is it? Mind you, Floof went 56 miles North back to his previous human
PRUDEY: I don’t blame him. If my human carries on, I’ll do the same, though I’m rubbish with directions. By the way, have you been presented with that new pouch yet?
MUNGO: The one with peas and carrots from The Wet Nose brand?
PRUDEY: Yes! Force feeding us veg. Abuse! Deprivation of liberty!
MUNGO: What next? A pudding version of Spotted Richard and custard?
PRUDEY: Yuck…Ha, yeah, anyway, not only does mine itch, it vibrates when there’s a thunderstorm
MUNGO: Double tremors? Unthinkable. You must have a faulty one, but how do you tell them?
PRUDEY: Extra meows, hunger strike? Point my paw to my neck?
MUNGO: Yeah, right. As if they’ll understand…
PRUDEY: All this technology nowadays, they should invent a way for cats to speak to humans
MUNGO: They can’t even get the microchip right, let alone anything advanced like that. Imagine the things that could go wrong? Mis-translations, subtle pauses mistaken for aloofness, black humour mistaken for wickedness. It would all be guesswork. We would have to have some input and devise a second version. Besides, what would we talk about with them? The weather? Existentialism?
PRUDEY: Well, we’re quite au fait with those subjects, and mine harp on about both all the time, so yeah, that’s two for starters.
(Pause)
(Both MUNGO and PRUDEY stare into space)
MUNGO: You going anywhere this year?
PRUDEY: Two weeks in November, apparently, at Aunty Joan’s. Excellent victuals, though she only hoovers fortnightly, and there’s always a faint smell of urine in every room
MUNGO: So where are your humans off to?
PRUDEY: A flight free jolly in Finland. Looks like they’re finally getting a footprint conscience.
MUNGO: Thought they liked hot places?
PRUDEY: It’s all about the search for the Northern Lights after watching that talking bear on TV
MUNGO: If only they knew we could talk. We could give them our review of the whole series
PRUDEY: We may have a choice of what to watch!
MUNGO: Good point. What would be the first thing you would say to your human?
PRUDEY: Less with the goo-goo talk, I’m not an idiot. You?
MUNGO: Any chance I could sleep on your cashmere jumper, mate?
Sound of thunderstorm
PRUDEY tremors
End
Copyright © Deborah Edgeley
ROBOT PRIEST faces audience
SINNER sits sideways to ROBOT PRIEST
SINNER: (Crosses themselves) Bless me Robot Priest for I have sinned. It’s been one year since my last confession.
ROBOT PRIEST: Go on, Sinner.
SINNER: I blocked somebody on Bookface.
ROBOT PRIEST: Have this stone slab for your neck to keep your head bowed.
SINNER: I walked past a homeless man and didn’t give him any money, even though it was payday.
ROBOT PRIEST: Spend two days fasting, outside Greggs.
SINNER: Talking about food, I bought a really expensive lasagne, when a no frills one could have done. Plus, I could have made it from scratch. Wait…that’s two deadly sins in one. Sorry. Oh, and I hoard things.
ROBOT PRIEST: Forget the lasagne. Hoard what?
SINNER: Thimbles.
ROBOT PRIEST: Why?
SINNER: So I can display them.
ROBOT PRIEST: To thimble lovers?
SINNER: No, in my living room. Makes me look interesting to others…
ROBOT PRIEST: Maybe you should think about going thimble-less. It serves no purpose if they aren’t practical. Do you do any sewing? How many thimbles does a person need?
SINNER: They are pottery thimbles.
ROBOT PRIEST: Ridiculous *coughs* Oh, problem solved, then. Suggestion: Use as water cups for insects on your window ledge.
SINNER: I don’t read about politics, but I read silly articles about celebrities.
ROBOT PRIEST: Neither do I. So do I…
SINNER: Sometimes I can’t be bothered to brush my own hair.
ROBOT PRIEST: I suggest you run continuously at top speed, every day, on waking, for ten minutes, for the rest of your life.
SINNER: I was angry with my boss for reducing my hours.
ROBOT PRIEST: Don’t be a double slave to yourself.
SINNER: Robot Priest have mercy on me!
Do not look upon my sins
But take away all my guilt. Here (gives ROBOT PRIEST a black heart, which he rips up)
Create in me a clean heart
And renew within me
an upright spirit.
A-robot.
(SINNER receives absolution from ROBOT PRIEST and receives a white heart)
ROBOT PRIEST: (short circuits) The audience is your conscience (repeat x 6)
Copyright © Deborah Edgeley
