Tag Archives: Edwin Plant

Two newly published plays

In the final burst of the latest publishing round from Lazy Bee Scripts, two of my latest one act plays have reached the light of day.

Digging Up Edwin Plant” works either as a standalone piece, or as a sequel to “The Kitchen Skirmishes“. It features Bernard and Lucy, now well adapted to their roles as parents, but Bernard has developed an unhealthy curiosity about what happened to the boy who used to bully him at school. Based in part on personal experiences and featuring more poetry than you might expect for a one act play, this piece looks at how we remember people who have passed out of our lives, and who, exactly, forgiveness is for.

The MACT production of "The Kitchen Skirmishes" (See "Gallery" page for more details and images)

The MACT production of “The Kitchen Skirmishes”
(See “Gallery” page for more details and images)

I wrote this after seeing a group had produced their own play based on the works of a local poet. This seemed like a fine idea, so I dug out the mysterious poems of Edwin Plant, after checking there’d be no copyright issues, and used them to help tell the story I was thinking of : Bernard, unable to track down the bully, finds only some poems written by someone with the same name. Is it the bully? What do the poems say about the person who wrote them? Bernard sees regret, and a possible explanation for the behaviour of the boy he knew, but Lucy isn’t convinced.

“The Poems of Edwin Plant” e-book is available on Amazon Kindle.

The other play to be published this month is “The CosPlay“. A recent addition to my many hobbies, my family and I have thrown ourselves into the world of Cosplay after attending the Vancouver Fan Expo ( See here, and here for more details….)

This play has a small group working hard to prepare a vital presentation that might save their department from being downsized, but it’s also the weekend of HeroCon, and at least two members of the department are determined to be there, in costume, for the big photo. The whole department turns out, with varying degrees of costumed success, but the revelation of dressing for your inner hero brings about a few character changes in the office…

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What is a poem?

(From the forthcoming “The Poems of Edwin Plant”)

What is a poem?

He said “What, then? Should I write you a poem?”

And she said “What is a poem?”

And though it was not his nature or his practice, he wrote.

He chased words through his mind

And pinned them to paper with the nib of his pen.

He spoke the words to her in nervous apprehension.

And she laughed.

“Moon, spoon, june!” she laughed.

“Is this love? Is this a poem?”

And he went away and chewed his pen.

He wrote in a fury, in a blaze, in desperation.

He wrote without thought, without pause, without punctuation.

He brought before her his soul laid out in ink.

His love for her as it flowed from his heart through his pen to the page.

And she laughed.

“Language evolved for apes to tell each other where the best fruit grows.

Is this love? Is this a poem?”

He went away again and looked.

He watched the sun rise and set.

He watched butterflies amongst the flowers.

He looked at rare orchids and traced their gentle colours and curves in paint.

He rode ships across the oceans and climbed mountains.

He returned to her and laid at her feet:

Paintings, flowers, photographs and deeds of ownership.

She sniffed.

“Is this love? Is this a poem?”

Ashamed and downcast,

He walked away.

Down the street where she lived.

Through crowds that melted before him.

Shadows in the misery.

Until light sparkled from a shop window.

He returned to her.

“I have brought you a poem.”

He said.

He went down on one knee and brought out a ring.

The diamond flared in the light.

It glowed, it gleamed, it glimmered.

It snared her heart and told her stories she could not hear.

“Is this” he asked “a poem?”

 

 

Two years later.

She left him for a singer.

Of Cats

(From the forthcoming “The Poems of Edwin Plant”)

Image

Of Cats

When life’s harsh, gruelling, grinding pace

Wears away my personal space.

And strain shows clear upon my face.

I crave a little feline grace.

A cat’s demands are simple, few.

He lets you know what you must do.

“Let me in/out” and “Feed me!” too.

And in return he’ll offer you…

Well, nothing, if the truth is told.

Your payment, neither love nor gold.

A cat may warm as he grows old,

But in youth’s bloom, his heart is cold.

So, what appeal, this silent sage?

How does cold heart soothe injured rage

From battling this baffling age?

Why care, without receipt of wage?

(Now I pause, regard my pen.

I think I’ve found the words, and then…

They’re gone. I falter, once again.

I take a breath, and count to ten…)

Is love the word I’m looking for?

This creature curled upon the floor

Commands obedience with a wavḗd paw.

No Caesar reigned half as secure.

He deigns to live at home with me.

His presence more than company.

His cutting sneer a balm to see

Whatever that day’s misery.

I’d make this daily toil my lot.

Serve Cat and leave the world to rot.

If this could be, yet it cannot.

I’ll serve the cat I haven’t got.