Ocean greets me kin
24 March 2020
This is not a play
Tragedy nor comedy
This is a life’s toil
I splatter the drops
The waters in rivulets
Aspire for bay
Ocean greets me kin
Movement of waves like my skin
A body of clay
Reading of the poem:
Written in the context of Ronovan writes weekly Haiku 298 using the words bay and play. For rules and more poems follow this link.
Gurdjieff – De Hartmann Vol 12: Prière Pour La Miséricorde, Alain Kremski
Just Heart to Heart
3 March 2018
I know you’ve been fighting
This thing that you’re right in
So let’s start confiding
The secrets we’re hiding
Baby you lost the game
No need for shame
We’re far apart
Maybe you feel the same
Let’s play again
Just Heart to Heart
My darling my sparrow
I’ll ease all your sorrow
We’ll find time to borrow
Live like there’s no morrow
Baby you lost the game
No need for shame
We’re far apart
Maybe you feel the same
Let’s play again
Just Heart to Heart
So let’s start confiding
The secrets we’re hiding
We’ll find time to borrow
Live like there’s no morrow
Baby you lost the game
No need for shame
We’re far apart
Maybe you feel the same
Let’s play again
Just Heart to Heart
Baby you lost the game
No need for shame
We’re far apart
Maybe you feel the same
Let’s play again
Just Heart to Heart
Singing of the lyrics: Version 1:
Version 2:
The Fallen
11 November 2017
I watch them
Intelligent play
In Encores
Bravados
Conquering us within Time
A crestfallen mime
Rise above
Walk into the love
Whisper me
I am wind
Reverberating silence
When the treetops dance
Listen well
We are hearts that swell
Renouncing
The Fallen
From dreamtime uncovered hell
No story to tell
Reading of the poem:
Delerium – Fallen (Превод)
The God of small Miracles
3 November 2017
Deconstruct
Current thought process
Unwind mind
Child remind
Inner being you will find
Playing with the clay
End dismay
Emerge from ashes
Old renew
Young to spew
From fountains gushing anew
The selected few
Embrace it
Just drop the questions
Ne’er ask why
Nor ask how
The God of small Miracles
Shimmers in the now
Reading of the poem:
Something Just Like This (Lyric) – The Chainsmokers & Coldplay
Passion’s hue
13 September 2017
Come and play
Let me be your clay
Handle me
Carefully
Whisper lovingly
Words of glee
Stroke my nose
With tip of your beard
Is that weird?
Play the part
Riddle in my heart
Whence to start
Multiply
Love beyond the lie
As we sigh
You yearn too
Deep red in dark blue
Passion’s hue
Reading of the poem:
Merging Of Two Hearts – Stive Morgan feat Moon Haunter
Written in the context of Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge using Passion and Play. Details here
Remember from the ember
25 June 2017
Grant me strides
To edge of morrows
Taking sides
No option
In mind the heart’s adoption
A play of two rides
The moon spills
Honey of the thought
We forgot
In token
The chime of heart awoken
From remorseless spells
Delve in wells
Bathe in the red glow
Blaze to show
Under snow
Remember from the ember
Of seeds that we sow
Reading of the poem:
Bindweed above the water – Stive Morgan
Redress of Human
8 March 2017
Pretender
Relieves the offals
Acting out
Recitals
The greatest comedy made
Unintended shade
They play grounds
Of staged inventions
Oscar to knave
Eyesight gave
On cowardly acting brave
For mind frame to pave
Changing Times
Caution to spaces
Between Core
And places
Where I teach my Self lessons
Redress of Human
Reading of the poem:
Virus – Björk
Vertebrae By Vertebrae – Björk
Triumph of a Heart – Björk
Many into One
7 March 2017
Play me games
Colour me ice flames
Fusing red
Blue that bled
Taking contours of the hue
Mixing who is who
Timeless space
Time to which we race
Beyond place
Beyond face
Beyond the meaning of trace
To peak of solace
While mighty cowers
The melding powers
They pelt us
They weld us
Beyond the trickle and fuss
Many into One
Reading of the poem:
Adria Blue – BohemianVoodoo
Nomad – BohemianVoodoo
Golden Forest – BohemianVoodoo
Rat tat tat (a short stand-up sit down comedy)
24 September 2016
Cast : Mary (lead actress) Jonathan (small role)
Female voice (Mary) in the darkness
I can’t believe that director. Sitting there on his fat arse asking us to devote ourselves, to give ourselves up entirely to the art and quit thinking about anything else.
Well I’ll give you quit thinking about anything else. Like I did not see you leave from time to time. Every hour in fact. I know what you were doing Mister Director (sarcastic). Well we’re not made of the same stuff Mister Director. We can’t just rush behind some random …… or just use some…….
Lights come up. A sink on one side and Mary is sitting on a toilet. She’s got her panties down with her skirt covering the front part.
What? Even actors pee you know? (addressing the audience). You’ve never seen an actor pee? Well, it sure looked like that fat arse director never saw one pee either. He was bent on going on and on with the play like we could hold our bladders for more than 5 hours in a row. With a play where I’m supposed to gulp down a glass of water every 15 minutes because I’m nervous. How’s that for a challenge? Challenge yourself he says. Challenge yourself. Challenge smallenge. Well challenge your little …… (gestures with pinkie rather than say the word) Mister Director. Like we don’t know what you were running to that tree for, like a little doggie.
Someone knocks on the door
Busy! (addressing audience) You can’t even pee in peace when you’re an actor. You have to share the loo with at least 8 other women.(addressing herself, almost muttering) There are so many women in this field, it’s amazing! And of course, we all have the same problem. (addressing the audience) Did you ever pause to think about it? Men can do it anywhere. All they have to do is run behind a tree, open their fly (makes the gesture) and then go like a machine gun (shows with hand a gesture of spraying everywhere) rat tat tat, absolutely everywhere! Or even a wall with people behind them. I’ve seen it in some countries. They don’t care! They just open their fly again and go rat tat tat. (Pause) They can do it! You just see their backs, nothing more, no bottom showing, no other trace than the understanding that they must be doing it because you actually see something all over the wall then. We women can’t do that. (louder in a sarcastic note and addressing the door) We can’t do that Mister Director! (addressing the audience) We sadly have to actually remove our whole pants if we are wearing any or lift our skirts and remove our… (gestures towards her panties). That’s where the problem lies, the corpus delicti, otherwise known as the infamous (pause) panties!
Lights go out and come back on Mary washing her hands at the sink
(addressing self) When you think about it, that’s another thing. They never wash their hands (addressing audience) I don’t mean you Sir and you Sir and you Sir (half muttering to herself half stage whisper) although I’m not sure I’d have those peanuts after you in a bar (winks towards other women in the audience). Bernard (addressing just one part of the audience) my husband (Pause, makes a face and then frowns) ex-husband actually and you’ll know why in a second washed his hand always even though (violently shaking hands) he would always, just always go behind the tree. It was his favourite tree! It was mine too except it was his favourite for (she makes the gesture and nods towards audience) yes, you guessed it, rat tat tat and for me it was for the gardenias!
Pause. Lights go out and come back on her in another spot of the stage … or she can just move towards another corner of the stage
When we first moved into the house, I just loved that tree. It seemed like the perfect spot for a lovely bunch of gardenias so I weeded the whole place (addressing the audience) alone of course! Bernie could not be bothered. The only thing he could do was (gesturing) mow the lawn (makes the noise of a lawnmower) just on and on like a zombie. Then of course, all he could think of doing when he had to go was just run towards that tree and go … (points towards a random woman in the audience) yes, you guessed it honey, rat tat tat. (to self) In the beginning I could not figure out why my gardenias were looking so strange and withered (addresses audience) then I caught him right in the act when I watched him from the balcony. I mean, who goes behind a tree when his house is just a few meters away from the spot?! He could have gone inside the house. Not that it would have been so much better because then he would have gone rat tat tat on the toilet seat everywhere (addressing particularly women in the audience) I can see that that one brings out some memories ladies. (addressing all audience again) I can’t imagine when you have a precision tool that you can actually hold and direct, why you can’t just aim. Aim! For Pete’s sake. Aim! Not so hard is it? You do everything in the same way, the fly opening and everything but you just point it! How difficult is that? Just think of it as another finger. (sniggering and addressing women) Hopefully for you a bit bigger than a finger but … yeah, figuratively speaking of course (a short laugh) Whatever! Just point it! Just point the darn thing! (scratching side of face) Not so hard you know. I mean we can hardly point anything and yet we get it straight (addressing random male member of audience) What Sir? You would be able to do the same if you were sitting? Well by all means do that! I’m sure your wife would appreciate that you’re not going rat tat tat all over the toilet seat and the ground and sometimes the blasted bathtub (seems lost in thought all of a sudden) I can’t tell you about how many times I missed having a nice warm bath in the upstairs bathtub because it simply would not lose that (wrinkles nose and makes a disgusted expression) smell! I mean try imagining the scent of patchouli blending in with a two-day old pee scattered on the side. You don’t want to imagine trust me!
Person knocks on the door more insistently
Okay, okay okay! I’m coming out (goes towards door – fictional or real – and opens. Jonathan enters)
Mary: This is the women’s loo
Jonathan: (effeminate, throws hands up) Yeah, I know but the men’s busy. Besides, I prefer the ladies’ loo. The men’s always a bit… (throws hands up again) you know… (throws hands up) They go all over the place
Mary: You mean Rat tat tat
Jonathan: Yes (sizes her up puzzled) something like that.
(they switch places. Mary is closing the door behind her. Staged sound of peeing in the background)
Mary (addressing audience) You hear that? You hear that? That my friends is no rat tat tat. That is no random machine gun! That is a laser. Precision technique. Unfortunately, you can’t have them all. The precision comes with other disadvantages… (addressing random members of male audience) not saying you’re not a laser, just, you know…. Most of the time you know how it is. Come on… admit it! There goes that director again (listening to the director seemingly yelling) Coming! Coming! No Prima donna here, not at all! Yes… I know there are many women who would be happy to take the role. (more vehemently addressing the imaginary director at the back) I said coming! (addressing the audience) Can’t even pee in peace! What? Never heard of an actor peeing?
Light goes out
You can’t touch this – MC Hammer
Birthday party
A short (10 min play) play by Geetha Balvannanathan (geethap2007@hotmail.com)
17 September 2016
CHARACTERS
ERIC: SEEN AND HEARD, AN AGING MAN GRAPPLING WITH THE MEANING OF EXISTENCE AND LEFT ALONE ON HIS BIRTHDAY
BARTENDER: SEEN AND NOT HEARD, HE HAS PICKED ERIC OFF THE FLOOR OF HIS BAR COUNTLESS TIMES AND KEEPS WARNING HIM NOT TO DRINK TOO MUCH.
TWO ANGELS: NEITHER SEEN NOR HEARD BUT ERIC TRANSLATES THEIR COMMUNICATIONS
Setting: A bar initially and then a room which is dark and small.
Time: Beginning of evening
Opening scene in a dim lit bar. Eric is seated alone under a spotlight and drinking and then all of a sudden he drops face first on the table.
Lights go out.
Lights come back again only on Eric.
He is confused and trying to look all around him but can barely see anything.
ERIC: (SPEAKING TO HIMSELF) Man, that was one heck of a drink. The doctors said I should not have anymore but I can still stomach a good one. And that stupid bartender. Well, that’s what happens when you become a creature of habit. You go to the same old bar and the barman starts to get chummy and the next thing you know he’s the preacher from the church doubled with your step-mother from hell freshly out of her grave with that pointing finger telling you not to drink or it’ll be the death of you.
(looks alarmed at something on his right) what the… who are you? Angels? You don’t look very much like Angels and what the heck… I’m dead? I’m dead! It’s my birthday. Christ! I cannot be dead! (turns back to the two angels and turns back to the audience) I’m dead! Just a drink or two and wham! I’m dead. Now what? You’re going to withdraw my license or ask me to walk on the straight line in the dark (snickering to himself)
What? I can keep the humour for later? Oh come on lads, you can take a good joke, can’t you? Can’t you? I mean come on Gabriel, Gab! I am sure you must have a great sense of humour…No… OK so where am I? Huh? In purgatory? Why purgatory? What am I doing here and why am I not in heaven? My wife and my mother always told me I was a good man. A good man who had gone wrong sometimes but a good man all the same.
What? I have to think of three good deeds during my lifetime and then I get to go to Heaven? Only three good deeds? You are sure? Three good deeds. Okay, okay. Three good deeds. I have done three good deeds. No problem. Three good deeds….
When you say three good deeds, you mean good as in good for whom. Huh? Good deeds are something that you do for someone else? Ok.. Three good deeds… Three good deeds…. Three good deeds. One two, three…. Three good deeds… Yeah coming coming. Geeze calm down. I’m getting there. Don’t worry, I’ll find three good deeds to talk about in those 8 minutes left. I thought in eternity you had no time and now you’re counting the minutes? What? This is purgatory, not heaven? It has almost the same rules as on Earth. Okay, okay okay. I am getting there.
(Scratches head, keeps thinking over and over but cannot find anything to say). Whaaaat? You’re already fed up? I’m just starting! One good deed is enough? Okay okay okay. I’m sure I’ve done one good deed in my life (raises voice again addressing the angels) I can hear you snickering over there. I really don’t find you very angel-like you know. You strike me rather as two gossiping women getting their back on someone. I did nothing to you fellas, why’re you taking it out on me. If you have a problem with your boss for overtime, take it out on him, not on me.
OK here we go. It was in 2011, 15 years ago. My 25 year-old nephew came to me and talked to me about this beautiful girl whom he loved dearly. She was such a poor and delicate thing. She was working very hard at Wallmart, was underpaid and was trying to graduate at the same time. I took pity on her and funded her so that she could be able to finish her education without having to go work at Wallmart anymore. How’s that for a good deed.
What do you mean that was not exactly a good deed? Okay okay okay. I slept with her but no harm in that. What do you mean I did give her the money but only because I made her my mistress. Why is that a bad thing? She had a sugar daddy taking care of her what else could she wish for? She did not have to work anymore and I gave her money for her siblings too… What do you mean I should have given him the money so that he could marry her and they would have both been happy. I had no problem with her marrying him at all. She could have married him if she wanted to. I was not the jealous type. After all, I was married myself so I would not blame her for being married. He neither. After all, he found her first (snickering to himself). What? He killed himself? Roger? Na… you got it all wrong. He killed himself way after she became my mistress and it was an accident, his car drove off the road, skid right off the road because of the ice on the road I think. It had nothing to do with me at all…What do you mean it had everything to do? What? He tried to kill himself many times and only succeeded that Christmas eve? I remember thinking how odd that he should have just drove off the road, it was not even a difficult bend for Roger who was such a great driver (his voice trails off)
I guess that one’s completely out, right?
Okay okay One good deed, one good deed, one good deed. Yes, got it. I remember the summer of 1983 Helen was giving birth to our first baby and I was of great help that night. What do you mean how? I gave energy and vigor to the midwife who helped Helen deliver. A wham slam in the pantry is hardly a good deed? Why not? She was energized, I was energized and God knows Helen was energized when I went to the room and took care of her and of our baby daughter. What the midwife? She delivered my child? Yes, my child so what? She delivered mine and Helen’s child. Not our child? Not Helen’s and mine but hers and mine? The midwife’s and mine? We had a child together? 7 years of trying to get Helen pregnant naturally and then another 5 long years with in vitro and with that one night wham bam the midwife had my child? Okay okay okay, that has to be a good deed right? You’re the ones that keep saying that children are a gift of God and have only good in their heart. If I brought that into the world then that must count as a good deed. She killed herself? Oh come on man. Gabriel? Gab! She killed herself? Why would she do that? The guilt?`! She was married? So what? I was married too.. She had a conscience. Oh please, don’t give me that conscience smoncience thing… (shakes his head as apparently the angels are not happy). Not a good deed….
Okay okay okay I got one. It was the spring of 1959 and there was this young thing. She was selling two different sets of cookies one to sponsor her scout club trip to Canada and the other one to contribute a gift for her mother’s wedding. I took both sets of cookies and she didn’t even have to beg me to. What do you mean I did not pay for them properly? She did not ask me to pay something specific. She just said give what your heart guides you to. Well my heart did not guide me to anywhere else than a penny at the time. She should have been more specific. Anyway, it is not like I stole them from her. That does count as a good deed doesn’t it? No? No! Okay. Okay. Okay.
Winter of 1969. I remember my fiancée Amy, she was crying. I really wanted to have some good time but her dad had just died a week ago and she was not in the mood and she started crying so I sat there listened to her cry and then consoled her. There, that is your good deed. Me, Eric, I triumphed over my bestial instincts and did a selfless act for another. What? It was not me? It was not me! You’re right! It was Philip, our neighbor. He had always been a good bloke. Always happy to help others. Even his wife, she was a very good woman. It was not me. I had left the apartment. I was angry she was not giving in and was upset. I remember… Amy.. I listened to her sobs from behind the door. I wanted to go in and take her in my arms and console her, tell her everything would be alright but I didn’t. I was just angry she could not put a lid on her feelings and be the sexy woman I had always known. I failed miserably. Amy… Then I went to the bar to drink. That’s how I started drinking every other day. The bartender sent me off saying I was too young to spoil my night drinking myself silly. I went back to the apartment and Philip was there consoling her. At the time I was too drunk. I thought he was seducing her. I was hateful. I told her so many awful things. Amy… I do not deserve to go to heaven. I think you should put me straight in hell. That’s all I deserve. I cannot think of one good deed that I did. Amy….Why? Amy.. If only…What? You can’t decide? Another test? Go back? Go back where?
Lights go off, thunder resounds. Lights come back and Eric finds himself back in the bar with the same bartender
Back here with him. What use. Stirring up all those feelings and coming back to this lonely birthday party with no party in it. What do you mean what birthday party young man. Can’t you see? It’s the old villainous Eric as you usually say. What do you mean what old. It’s me! Eric! Sir? Sir? You’re calling me sir? You’ve lifted my old carcass off the floor so many times and thrown me out of here and you’re calling me sir. What old? Me! (turns towards the mirror at the bar) Oh my oh my! Yes! (addresses himself). You sexy beast! (runs out of the bar yelling at the top of his lungs) Amyyyyy… here I come!!!
The song plays in the background “I believe in miracles, you sexy babe, you sexy babe”…
You Sexy Thing (I Believe in Miracles) by Hot Chocolate
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