The Script

From the time that Alison woke she knew

That she had to speak her lines,

It was part of some strange assignment that

Had lodged, deep in her mind,

And every day had begun like this

From as far back as the Prom,

For every day was a part to play

Though she didn’t know where from.

 

Her lines appeared in her deepest sleep, 

Were as glue upon her page,

She wasn’t allowed to deviate

Protest, or express her rage,

She’d go to Milady’s ballroom all

Dressed up with bustle and flare,

Plastered with ancient make-up and

A Pompadour in her hair.

 

And Alan, down off the ballroom he

Would finish his last cigar,

Straighten his wig and tails and take

His boots on into the bar,

A tumbler there of Cognac he’d

Toss back, then head for the ball,

Looking to share his heart out there

With the fairest one of them all.

 

He’d met her before on other nights,

She’d hidden behind her fan,

Her lashes were long and fluttered then

As he tried to hold her hand,

But she had proved to be skittish, she

Would lead him along, then stay,

And disappear in the dancers there

As she struggled to get away.

 

But Alan was more determined now,

He pinned her against the wall,

Caught the scent of her heaving breath,

‘Don’t you care for me, at all?’

She’d hesitate as those hated lines

Once more came into her head,

‘Oh my, this maiden is blushing, sir,

My cheeks are burning red.’

 

He led her towards an ante-room

For a long desired embrace,

But he couldn’t see behind the fan

The anguish on her face,

She wanted to live and love, she thought

She wanted to cry aloud,

But all that her script would let her do

Was gravitate to the crowd.

 

And Alan was so frustrated,

He thought that he’d never score,

For Alison seemed to disappear

As he opened the bedroom door,

And she stood out in the coffee room

With amazement on her face,

Where had he gone, she’d closed her eyes

To wait for his sweet embrace?

 

Alan tore off his tie and wig

And he hurled them to the floor,

Why did she always disappear

Just there, at the bedroom door?

He flung about, and he just went out

With his face so set and pale,

‘I’ll not be staying a moment more

In a Barbara Cartland tale.’

 

He had wondered where his speech came from

It had seemed so stiff and trite,

Embedded into his head, it seemed

When he was asleep at night,

He jumped on into a cab outside

In a vain attempt to flee,

When Alison ran beside him then

And cried, ‘Hey, wait for me!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

had to look up B. C. so thank you for my enrichment.. wow.. what a woman of the pen .. and her pics fit your backdrop perfectly ... thoroughly enjoyed reading as always .. your poems for me are best read out loud so i do it right off now .. same easy meter and rhyme .. put me in the scene straight away .. another fine experience in another fine poem and story
E.

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Lovely story. Full of drama and tension.

[R Smith]

if i was Alan i'd be very bewildered in this unusual tale of love that i thought was wasted until the very end, you have a real talent for this David, maybe outshining Barbara Cartland :)

[Marie]

I don't read Barbara Cartland, but I know who she is, and I do read Georgette Heyer, so I know about Regency Romance. From the outside it looks like a beautiful time, but I'd hate to be trapped there.

[MomzillaNC]

Terrific! I love this! Hope they run far and free!

[Jane Winters Rogers]

I love this poem, it seems so real, mysterious, yet real...So glad they ended up in the cab together...now I wonder where they went? "So glad I can use my imagination"....I googled Barbara Cartland...I thank you for always sharing your vast knowledge with you readers.

[ANTO]

Yay - they escaped from their own 'groundhog day' that was their Barbara Cartland characters - or did they?
This was a bit more like a Hampton Court Maze of a write than usual and Im claustrophobic but it was definitely worth hanging in there for David. Loved the subtle layers that you added and the suspense was kept up til the end.
More power to your pen DLP !!

[Valentine]

Laughing. I have gotten many ideas for writes from books that I have read, but never thought to use it in this art form. You are a gifted story teller. Valentine

[Helen Crutchett]

Your poem, David, made me feel I was in a movie! Your wonderful imagery flashed before my eyes and I got lost deeply in this superb write.

Bravo again!

Kind regards,
Helena :)