by
LOUISE JONES
SHE'S ON HER OWN.
EVERYTHING'S ALRIGHT.
SEND OFF.
HE SAID.
SONG OF THE RIVER.
SHE'S ON HER OWN
She's on her own
She's not having a very jolly day today
Dad's ashes were delivered today
She's on her own
She's not having a very jolly day today
Wherever she puts them - the ashes - it doesn't feel right
Mantelpiece bedroom underneath the lights
She's not having a very jolly day today
Wherever she puts them -the ashes - it doesn't feel right
It's the 'foreverness' she can't get her head round
He can come home now - I've had a nice break now
Wherever she puts them - the ashes - it doesn't feel right
It's the 'foreverness' she can't get her head round
She's on her own
It was nice of me to phone
It's the 'foreverness' she can't get her head round
She's on her own
She's not having a very jolly day today
Dad's ashes were delivered today
She's on her own.
© Louise Jones 2009
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Louise Jones performing Everything's Alright Now
at the Trilingual Mushaira Bolton October 2008
Shown with permission from Write Out Loud
EVERYTHING'S ALRIGHT NOW
Everything's alright now, everything's alright
Oh come here you I say come here you.
Like a mantra - I say it - over and over oh come here you.
Everything's alright now, everything's alright.
Oh come here you I say come here you.
She's crying on my shoulder - I rock her in my arms
Her tiny peg doll body is shaking in my arms
Oh come here you I say come here you.
She's crying on my shoulder - I rock her in my arms.
It's my turn to be mother and her turn to be child.
A deep sense of calmness at once both wild and mild.
She's crying on my shoulder - I rock her in my arms.
It's my turn to be mother and her turn to be child.
Everything's alright now, everything' s alright.
And he - now - so quiet - so grateful for this night.
It's my turn to be mother and her turn to be child.
Everything's alright now, everything's alright.
Oh come here you I say come here you.
Like a mantra - I say it - over and over oh come here you.
Everything's alright now, everything's alright.
©Louise Jones 2009
I was sitting on a train
It was stationary
I shuffled about a bit in my seat
Enjoying the irritating squeak
A huge tree came and stood by my window
She pressed in close - shaking her leaves seductively
I pretended I hadn't seen her
Oh Officer.... she whimpered
I turned my head towards her - thirty two degrees
Oh Officer ....
I gave her my most endearing smile
Oh...
Hush! Hissed the train. Hush!
And he dragged me off down some unknown track...
On the return journey home
I tried hard to look as though I'd still got two arms
This was mighty difficult, as the nurse had
Pinned my sleeve flat across my chest.
© Louise Jones 2009
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HE SAID
He said you were a soldier a saint a man amongst pigeons a fly amidst dung he said you were a sailor a baker of fine bread that crumbed out crusted memories from the back of the dying dead he said you'd see the glory he said you'd seen him shine he said that inside everyone of us was you the great the divine he drank up all your reveries and savoured all your thoughts gave vent to all your machinations cravings and odd sorts he tapped his pipe out on your knee and whispered in your ear of days gone by in hurricanes of salted misty beer he said you were a legend he said I'd know your name he said you were unobtainable and no mean feat of game he said you'd be coming back soon with golden curls of light he said that all your questions had answers that were right.
© Louise Jones 2009
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SONG OF THE RIVER (Extract)
Winner of the Regional National Short Story Competition.
Manson is having an affair with Rosanna, he is in church with his wife Dora and seven year old daughter Charmaine. Manson is struggling with his conscience….
The sun was scorching through the church windows - cooking up the congregation - planting beads of sweat on their foreheads - drenching their thin cottons through. A huge sweating mass of people whooping and clapping - singing out loud. Manson felt a sudden joy - singing - always released him. He'd like to bring Rosanna to his church - have her stand beside him … Caught sight of Dora. What she doing with that 'thing' in her hair? Pink bow? On a grown woman? What she doing? Small tug on his hand… it's Charmaine…
Dadda. My head - it's hurtin'.
Come on. I'll take you outside.
Get you some fresh air.
Her small hand clasped in his. And now the words of Reverend Jamieson following him out of the door…
God know you.
He knows your weaknesses.
He knows your temptations.
They're out. Steers her little body into the shade of the church doorway.
You okay honey?
Feel dizzy.
Want me to get you some water?
Just want to lie down…
Piggy back home?
Mmm.
Glad to escape. He lifts her onto him. Wanders back down the sun bleached path. Her thin brown legs dangling at the side of him. Her arms clasped around his neck and her head - lolling on his shoulders. Hot dust finding their mouths - their hair. Flies - little black dots - dancing about them. He's singing to her - jigging along - nice and careful - she's chipping in - her voice sweet - high…
He movin' this way.
He movin' that way.
Slippin' down deeper in the slippedy clay
He doin' the swamp dance - swamp dance.
He doin' the swamp dance - swamp dance.
Slippin' down deeper in the slippedy clay.
He movin' this way.
He movin' that way.
Slippin' down deeper in the slippedy -
Dadda?
Hm?
What's temptations?
Temptations…? Well it's… it's when you want somethin' you shouldn't have…
You know it's bad. Real bad. …But you can't help yourself. You keep on wantin' it and wantin' it.
You got temptations?
…Sometimes…
He was glad they were home. . .
© Louise Jones 2009
To contact me my email address is mail@louisejones.org