Two Poems by Jude Brigley
Hello, Hello, Hello.
‘Mr. John Smith, a 24-year old, blonde financial assistant alleged that he was mugged when walking alone down the High Street at 1.AM. after drinks with friends.’
‘Hello, hello, hello, what’s that you say?
You were held at gunpoint as you went along your way?
Did you struggle with the robber? Did you try to take his gun?
Come on, you can tell us, didn’t you really think it fun?
Chorus
Get away with you, you were asking for it, asking for it.
Every copper knows it’s true.
You were asking for it, asking for it.
Go on confess, it’s the best thing you can do.
Hello, hello, hello, what time did this take place?
Walking were you at 1 a.m.? What a sad disgrace!
And that suit you are wearing must have cost a lot,
So you were walking out at night, flaunting what you’ve got.
Hello, hello, hello, did you scream or shout or fuss?
It sounds like a conscious decision to comply with things to us.
Have you been held up in the street before? – practised philanthropy?
Sounds like you were contriving to be mugged – to me.
Hello, hello, hello you were walking down the street
With a bulging wallet and fancy shoes on feet?
Well, Mr. Smith you match our photo-fit
And the sergeant and I agree – you were asking for it!’
‘Mr. John Smith, a 24-year old, blonde financial assistant alleged that he was mugged when walking alone down the High Street at 1.AM. after drinks with friends.’
‘Hello, hello, hello, what’s that you say?
You were held at gunpoint as you went along your way?
Did you struggle with the robber? Did you try to take his gun?
Come on, you can tell us, didn’t you really think it fun?
Chorus
Get away with you, you were asking for it, asking for it.
Every copper knows it’s true.
You were asking for it, asking for it.
Go on confess, it’s the best thing you can do.
Hello, hello, hello, what time did this take place?
Walking were you at 1 a.m.? What a sad disgrace!
And that suit you are wearing must have cost a lot,
So you were walking out at night, flaunting what you’ve got.
Hello, hello, hello, did you scream or shout or fuss?
It sounds like a conscious decision to comply with things to us.
Have you been held up in the street before? – practised philanthropy?
Sounds like you were contriving to be mugged – to me.
Hello, hello, hello you were walking down the street
With a bulging wallet and fancy shoes on feet?
Well, Mr. Smith you match our photo-fit
And the sergeant and I agree – you were asking for it!’
Sisters
When one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs, or even of a very remarkable man who had a mother, I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet.
--Virginia Woolf
Did Shakespeare have a sister
who wished she had a pen
but instead of writing drama
had to serve the needs of men?
Did she dream of quill and parchment
and of being a tourist pull?
Did she yearn for secret sonnets?
Did she think herself the fool?
Did Picasso have a sister
told to go and paint her face
whose brushstrokes were too many,
whose noses were in the wrong place?
Did she look and see life pear-shaped?
Did she gnash her teeth in vain?
Did she end up always tidying up
having a blue period again?
Now Wordsworth had a sister.
Did she ever feel it a curse
writing her accurate journals so well
for him to use in his verse?
Did she ever get impatient
or want to dance like a daffodil,
getting typecast as dependable,
worthy but his sister still?
Much is written and talked about
of wives and mothers of mankind
but what of the millions of sisters
who wanted to know their own minds?
Did they also have some talents?
Did they envy their brothers’ worth?
Did they howl to the moon in anguish
Or roll in its light with mirth?
When one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs, or even of a very remarkable man who had a mother, I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet.
--Virginia Woolf
Did Shakespeare have a sister
who wished she had a pen
but instead of writing drama
had to serve the needs of men?
Did she dream of quill and parchment
and of being a tourist pull?
Did she yearn for secret sonnets?
Did she think herself the fool?
Did Picasso have a sister
told to go and paint her face
whose brushstrokes were too many,
whose noses were in the wrong place?
Did she look and see life pear-shaped?
Did she gnash her teeth in vain?
Did she end up always tidying up
having a blue period again?
Now Wordsworth had a sister.
Did she ever feel it a curse
writing her accurate journals so well
for him to use in his verse?
Did she ever get impatient
or want to dance like a daffodil,
getting typecast as dependable,
worthy but his sister still?
Much is written and talked about
of wives and mothers of mankind
but what of the millions of sisters
who wanted to know their own minds?
Did they also have some talents?
Did they envy their brothers’ worth?
Did they howl to the moon in anguish
Or roll in its light with mirth?
Jude Brigley is Welsh. She has been a teacher, a coach, an editor and a performance poet. She is now writing more for the page.
Judebrigley.co.uk
https://magazine.thebluenib.com/article/5-poems-by-jude-brigley/
Judebrigley.co.uk
https://magazine.thebluenib.com/article/5-poems-by-jude-brigley/