The scene opens with August seated in his garden.
He is rambling to himself and fairies. He has a bandage around his head.
AUGUST: Oh these two Mandarin trees. Yes Symbols.
They are symbols. Time has passed ring the bells.
They are also symbols of the Great War.
(August yells at May even though she is not there)
The fight that has embittered to the core.
Your sad father never accepted me.
He didn’t call me part of the family.
But there in dwells the sharp and spiky thorn,
For when in him stubbornness is well born.
Will give and receive the same foul weather,
For I never accepted him either.
(Enter Fairies)
(August talks to the Fairies at the end of the garden.)
Now I am mad. It comes as no surprise.
The garden fairies dance before my eyes,
Years of nonsense will drive anyone mad.
But these cherubs are welcoming not sad.
For the most part mine was a life unlived.
Born here to do the work of those unloved.
I really didn't achieve anything.
The precious part of me wanted to sing.
I didn't find the cure for cancer.
Just took my lead from the other dancer.
A life without courage or endeavour.
Will hardly allow greatness to endure.
The garden sprites do not comfort me now.
They mock the promise I did not allow.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: April 27th, 2026 00:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship
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Comments3
I applauded the creative retro Shakspearian play style that this write has. Nicely done my friend and a fave
That is certainly a great compliment.Thank you.I was trying something different.Thanks for commenting
It is rare to see creativity through reactivating a lost style and so nicely done you are most welcome my friend
Nicely written story.
Thank you
Who were we before and who were we after, younglings in a larger arena? Likened to a postwar self, attempting to reconcile with a prewar world that no longer fits. What have we gained in the light of what we had to lose, more so the ones belonging to a generation that was disrupted, redirected, and psychologically damaged by war. And the postwar self, attempting to reconcile with a prewar world that no longer fits present realities. Dear me, this poem took me on a journey. 🙏🕊️🤩🌷
An interesting journey I hope.Thanks for your amazing insight.Always appreciated
Just the reader's mind on a journey. Very interesting. Although I suspect it revealed more of my mind than of the poem's. 🙏🕊️🙃✒️🌷
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