"Mother" script

Mother
By Grace Paley

Narrator
Mother
Father

Group 6

Scene: A man is listening to the radio and begins to reminisce about his mother. He recalls her words while standing in doorways and in the living room with his father. Man is in his teens in first memory and all of the characters get older with each memory. Music is playing.

Narrator: One day I was listening to the AM radio. I heard a song: “Oh, I Long to See My Mother in the Doorway.” By God! I understand that song. I have often longed to see my mother in the doorway. As a matter of fact, she did stand frequently in various doorways looking at me. She stood one day, just so, at the front door, the darkness of the hallway behind her. It was New Year’s Day.

Mother: If you come home at 4 A.M. when you’re seventeen, what time will you come home when you’re twenty? (Asked without humor or meanness)

Narrator: She had begun her worried preparation for death. She would not be present, she thought, when I was twenty. So she wondered. Another time she stood in the doorway of my room. I had just issued a political manifesto attacking the family’s position on the Soviet Union.

Mother: (bedroom door) Go to sleep for godsakes, you damn fool, you and your Communist ideas. We saw them already, Papa and me, in 1905. We guessed it all.

Narrator: And at the door of the kitchen…

Mother: You never finish your lunch. You run around senselessly. What will become of you?

Narrator: Then she died. Naturally, for the rest of my life I longed to see her, not only in doorways, in a great number of places—in the dining room with my aunts, at the window looking up and down the block, in the country garden among zinnias and marigolds, in the living room with my father. They sat in comfortable leather chairs. They were listening to Mozart.

(Music gets louder)

Narrator: They looked at one another amazed. It seemed to them that they’d just come over on the boat. They’d just learned the first English words. It seemed to them that he had just proudly handed in a 100 percent correct exam to the American anatomy professor. It seemed as though she’d just quit the shop for the kitchen. I wish I could see her in the doorway of the living room.

(She stands for a minute, then sits beside him)

Narrator: They owned an expensive record player. They were listening to Bach.

Mother: Talk to me a little. We don’t talk so much anymore.

Father: I’m tired. Can’t you see? I saw maybe thirty people today. All sick, all talk talk talk talk. Listen to the music. I believe you once had perfect pitch. (Pause) I’m tired.

BLACKOUT

Narrator: Then she died.

Sestina

Against the windowpane the rain
Falls, waking her from sleep
She knows in the morning
She will greet a new life
But she won’t promise to go happily
Or without a fight

Oh, how she will fight
Like the sun with the rain
Right now she lives happily
Listening to him sleep
She can’t leave him for her new life
But soon it will be morning

When the sun rises in the morning
The storm will lose the fight
And, for now, end the life
Of the persistent, heavy rain
Tonight she cannot sleep
Knowing she will not wake happily

For no one could rise happily
With the light in the morning
They, too, would refuse to sleep
With minds racing of the fight
To be had, like the struggle for life
Between the sun and the rain

Her thoughts pause to listen to the rain
She knows he’s dreaming happily
Unaware how his life
Will change in the morning
On her own she will fight
Unwilling to interrupt his sleep

She longs to hold him and sleep
But her mind refuses to forget the rain
And her inevitable fight
That she prays will end happily
How long until morning
And the end of this life?

Now the rain is humming her to sleep
And she happily curls into him, for a moment forgetting life
Soon it will be morning and she will remember her fight.

Sim/Met Poems 3

Your hands touch me
Like a wind brushes the grass
A steady hand
A summer wind

His smiles breaks
Like a vase smashing against the tile
A forgotten smile
A delicate vase

Your eyes are clear
Like a window through time
Desperate eyes
Unforgiving time

Her laugh dances
Like raindrops against a windowpane
A youthful laugh
A beautiful rain

I read you again
Like a book I can’t put down
An unpredictable you
A never-ending story

Sim/Met Poem 2

All Is Fair in Love and War

You are the knife in my side
With every move I feel your blade
Threatening to twist deeper
If I ever try to break away

Your touch is like ice
Freezing my soul when I feel you
My mind goes numb from the cold
Of your unrelenting glacier

Our battle is a season of endless
Weather, refusing to change with the months
You seek refuge in hysterics
Thriving on vengeful passion

But our hearts beat steadily
Together like the rhythm of a drum
Tempo constantly changing
But our pulses never stray from one

Our love is like a delicate rose
Harsh with thorns at ever turn
Perfect in its own way
Bittersweet existence

Simile/Metaphor Poem 1

Something Like Life

You fool me
Like the tortoise tricked the hare

Race you to the finish line
But you’re already there


Her heart is like sugar cane
Melting with moisture

His moisture
So sweet


Her teardrops fall
Like dew drops on tree leaves

Tears of joy
Peaceful and serene


An ultimatum in black and white
Like an old photograph

There’s no time to change
A moment trapped in time


Pages of a textbook
Like a death sentence

Words and numbers
Jumble in your brain

My Found Poem

Ode to my Shower

Lather, rinse, repeat
Jasmine, Vanilla
Eucalyptus
Wash, rinse
Bubble, lather
Wash, bubble, rinse
Scrub, gel, baby oil
Lather, rinse, repeat
Repeat.

Revised Dear Sherly

Dear Sherly,
This is a letter for you
explaining our apologies
for the Last couple problems with the dogs.
We are in the prosses
of training them to want to
remain in the bockyard.
Also we will getting
the fence nailed up to minimise
their escape routes.
Also we apologies for the tresh
we had built up in the back alley.
We will reman to keep thot clean
and enough room
for fire trucks.
Thank you.