Phyllis McKenna

What’s happening here? I’m in my own bed!

Last night I thought today I’d be dead

My family were gathered, the fire was all lit

All I had to do was my own little bit

Breathe for a minute, sigh, then expire

All laid out and ready for the funeral pyre

Then off to Memphis to be thrown over the gate

My King was waiting, now I’m so late

My senses are reeling, my neck is quite sore

A funny sensation, I think I want more

Did a dark stranger bend over and kiss me?

Oooh! there you are! Come here! Did you miss me?

You want more of my blood? Please Sir, just take it!

I know you’ll be good! I won’t have to fake it!

 

 

Teresa watched them leave. The popular ones. The rich and good looking ones. The classmates she didn’t fit in with, and boy did they continually point this out. She was used now to the name calling, the snide comments and dismissive looks. She was no beauty and the cruel nicknames  accentuated this. Skinny and  Specky.  They cackled their way out of the room like three evil witches, Geraldine, Debbie and Michaela. Teresa sighed heavily and lowered her head. She was fifteen and wanted by no one. Neither by her classmates or any boy she happened to encounter. An outcast, a loner, a child whose self confidence was so low someone should have worried about her. But no one ever did.

Her Mum and Dad were oblivious to the mental pain and anguish  she endured every day. She didn’t tell them. They would only worry. It must be her fault. She wasn’t pretty enough, clever enough  or even likable enough. Teresa sighed and began to gather up her belongings. Miss McVerry – Maths teacher,  her mortal enemy, was still standing at the top of the room, arms propping up her hefty bosom, watching her. She couldn’t understand why this particular teacher disliked her so much and continually humiliated her at every given opportunity .Teresa knew that Maths was one of her weaker subjects. She couldn’t understand the rigidity of the calculations, the disciplined rules that banished  imagination, mystery and self expression. But she tried, really she did but her answers were mostly wrong. English was her first love, comprehension, composition, spelling. She loved it all. Patricia yearned to be a writer from the time she was in primary school, wanted to share her thoughts  with others. Story ideas continually  tumbled round her head and she itched to be home to capture them with pen and paper. Just one obstacle to overcome, her torturous tutor with baleful eyes, watching, waiting.

“For goodnesss sake, girl. Hurry it up. You do have another class to go to.” Miss McVerry’s strident voice, dripping with disdain pierced the young girl’s heart. Why? she thought. Am I so repulsive even my teacher doesn’t like me? Her child’s fragile self confidence took another dive. These depths increased gradually over the coming years, guaranteeing a life filled with wrong choices and unwise decisions.

 

 

 

Laden down with buckets and spades

Windbreaks, towels and togs

Overloaded with cases and bags

Pulling and hauling the dogs

 

Sandwiches, lemonade, crisps and buns

Cups and saucers and plates

Fold up tables, collapsible chairs

Relax! Isn’t life great!

 

The sun is out for half an hour

Everything eaten in haste

With seagulls hovering round the crowds

No food will go to waste

 

Skies turn grey, light grows dim

All is packed up fast

That glorious sun, it couldn’t be true

Was far too warm to last

 

Now its time for amusement arcades

Next thing on the day out list

Rides and games for Mum and kids

Dads just go and get pissed

 

Time for home, the kids are tired

And Dad is feeling sick

Mum has had enough for today

Let’s get this lot home quick.