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Home Front (part 4)

Thank you for sticking with me, if you read this it's going to be some time before I post anything new, from start to finish with a bit of a break this has taken quite a while! I would love to organise a performance but I've no idea how to go about it, I imagine a friendly pub on a winter's evening, log fire casting shadows on the walls, a pint, obviously, beyond that I've no idea - anyone help?

 

CLOVERLEAF:  Then our nation must grow strong

A sapling grows without support

We’ll start afresh and put right wrong

And no longer the truth distort

A phoenix from the flames can be reborn

So shall our people rise up from the ashes

Loss of the Sentinel we all will mourn

Though a vision before me now flashes

Of a land that’s hopeful, confident and brave

That puts down arms, embracing peace

Though many have gone to their graves

Brave comrades who are now deceased

Revenge and hatred’s put aside

All acts of violence have ceased

No longer slaves to our blind pride

At last we killed that perfidious beast

Here we come to the end of the line

Our trip was short in miles maybe

                        But far we came in heart and mind

                        A journey that has set us free

                        There’s crowds there waiting for their kin

                        Rejoicing, see them weep and wave

                        Come comrade slap my back and grin

                        Be glad that we were spared the grave

                        Gather up your kit, pass me your bundle

                        This carriage I am more than keen to leave

                         What is it in these rags that you must fondle?

                         Come hurry, of your burden I’ll relieve

(STRONGARM holds tightly onto his bundle of rags and will not give them up to CLOVERLEAF)

STRONGARM:  Hold him tight and don’t let go

Hold him tight and don’t let go

I had to bear this lost lamb home

Could not abandon him to fate

Leaving him behind alone

Would bring on shame too great

This cruel world’s no hold on him

I know he feels no pain

But still it would have been a sin

Had I not carried his remains

He can rest easy, be at peace

He may know home grows near

His suffering has finally ceased

He’s conquered death and fear

He that was a creature

Too fragile for this world

With his brightly coloured wings

As broken as his dreams

Through weight of care

And life's cruel burdens

That crushed the breath

From a loving innocent

Who may perhaps now know

The peace much longed for

When he lived

(A small group of ragged people wait on the platform. CLOVERLEAF helps STRONGARM out of the carriage. For a moment they are disorientated then a woman comes over to CLOVERLEAF, puts her arms around him and leads him away. Gradually the platform empties, leaving STRONGARM standing alone holding his ragged bundle, tears rolling down his cheeks. He does not move. The lights slowly dim to blackness.)

WAR:                     I have returned, a fiend from Hell

                              To survey all my work

                              And mighty pleased am I

      By what I see upon the Earth

 

      In this nation’s cold, grey rain

      The dead rise from their graves

      Their bones borne by their relatives

      With senses numbed by grief and pain

      No victors were there in this war

      No victors now in peace

      And now I rub my hands with glee

      I offer no relief

 

      For though I relish violence

      And those who take up arms

      My first love is intolerance

      It drove these people from their homes

 

      Before they left their final act

      In defeat on foreign ground

      Was to take with them their kindred dead

      Their broken bones in rags were bound

 

     So all that stood I have destroyed

     My monstrous work is done

     My eyes they turn to other lands

     Where I can have my fun

(The lights are raised and NARRATOR returns to the stage.)

NARRATOR:         I gazed at the gravestones of those who had died

    Their names, ranks and ages carved into the stone

    I read the inscription that made the girl cry

    I felt a great sadness that here lay the bones

    Of brave comrade soldiers who’d never go home

 

    With the rain’s ceasing a rainbow erupted

    Embracing a sky so clear, blue and bright

    Bringing fresh hope of a new world tomorrow

    A world in which men had learned how not to fight

    Then with the dream over I entered the light

◄ Home Front (part 3)

re poems about historical figures ►

Comments

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Anthony Emmerson

Mon 28th Sep 2009 00:00

Hi Neil,

Finally got here! Well, it's an ambitious piece, that's for sure! Kind of "Shakespeare meets The Lord of the Rings." I'm wondering what you would like your potential audience to take from this - i.e. the "message" of the piece? What were your influences in writing it and why did you choose this particular style? I'm a little hesitant to offer any depth of comment prior to having some understanding of your intentions. Enjoyable and different read though!

Regards,
A.E.

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