Once This Was
A Poet
A play with poetry in one act
by Brenda Read-Brown
Spotlight Publications
COPYRIGHT © BRENDA READ-BROWN 2009
Published by Spotlight Publications
All rights are reserved including performances on stage, radio and television. No part of this publication
may be copied by whatever means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. It is an
infringement of the copyright to give any performance or public reading of the play before a licence has
been issued.
Drama groups must obtain a full acting set of scripts (a minimum of one script per actor plus one for the
director) before a performing licence can be issued.
The name of the author shall be stated on all publicity including posters and programmes. Programme
credits shall state "script provided by Spotlight Publications".
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Spotlight Publications, 259 The Moorings, Dalgety Bay, Fife, KY11 9GX
Tel. 01383 825737
Email: enquiries@spotlightpublications.com
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ISBN 978-1-907307-08-9
Once This Was A Poet
CAST
Pete A man aged about 38; looks as if he could be any age at all; lean and muscular; good-looking but not
in a conventional way. Wears jeans and a Mickey Mouse T-shirt.
Angie A woman, late 40s; attractive but not beautiful, but with a smile that lights up the world. Wears a
simple dress.
Man Plays all the other male roles. Should wear black.
Woman Plays all the other female roles. Should wear black.
PRODUCTION NOTES
Once This Was A Poet needs to be played at a swift pace, until the very last poem, which should be
performed slowly.
This is a play about performance poets, and the audience should be helped to feel that they are, in parts, an
audience for performance poetry. When the directions call for either Angie or Pete to move to the front of
the stage to perform a poem, this means they are to perform directly to the audience. And the poems should
be performed, e.g. “Alcoholic” should be done as if drunk, with Pete
switching out of this mode immediately at the end.
The Man and Woman can have additional costume appropriate to their various roles, easy to hand, on the
stage by their chairs, as follows:
Woman:
white coat when doctor in hospital
Man:
smart black or tweed jacket as GP
white coat / jacket as nurse in hospital
top hat and tails as funeral MC
In the original production, Pete’s red Mickey Mouse T-shirt was exchanged for a dark Mickey Mouse Tshirt after the shower scene, while Angie put on a red top. The couple exchanged rings during the
epithalamion poem “I, Angie Mary…”
If the play needs to be shortened for competition purposes, omit the wedding poem “I, Angie Mary”, etc.,
and replace the word “this” in the previous line with the word “a”. Other small cuts may be made with the
author’s permission.
A warning must be given to audiences that smoking will take place onstage, and it might be thought
appropriate to extend this.
A suitable form of wording is as follows:
Warning: this play contains smoking, adult themes, a brief scene of non-sexual nudity, and strong
language.
The stage is fairly bare. A bed, or mattress set on a platform, is to R of centre, tilted up so that the people
lying on it can be seen. A small table is L of centre, front. Two plain chairs are placed at the front of the
stage, one to R and one to L of the table, facing forwards. On the table is a paper serviette, a pint glass,
half-full, an ashtray, and a rolled-up cigarette. R is a clothes rail, holding the costumes that Pete and Angie
change into during the course of the play. Stage L is a plain table holding props
The Man and the Woman sit on chairs at the rear of the stage, and remain on stage throughout the action
The curtains open to dim lighting. Pete is seated on the chair L, smoking; Angie standing R, spotlit. The
first movement of Bach’s first cello sonata has been playing
Angie One year ago today, a poet died. I met him a year before that - it was exactly a year, in fact, from
the day we first spoke to the day of his wake. It was a year … it was … Well, it started with a phone call.
I was expecting the call; another poet we both knew had told me that Pete would be phoning me..
The lights come up. Angie and Pete both have mobile phones
Pete Hallo. Is that Angie?
Angie Yes, speaking.
Pete I’m Pete Brown, and I’m looking for a woman.
Angie Well, I’m Angie, and I’ve been expecting a man.
Pete Actually, I’m looking for a woman who’s a poet. I don’t know how much Ian told you, but I run a
group of poets, the Gorillas, and we’re performing in pubs in Ledbury on Saturday, but it’ll all be men
and I need a woman to join us. Ian told me that you would be okay. What do you think?
Angie Well, I haven’t got any poems about gorillas but I’ve got a gorilla suit. Will that do?
Pete Oh, this conversation’s going well! Have you really got a gorilla suit? Would you wear it? It’d be
great publicity for us if you would walk round the streets, perhaps with a placard …
Angie (putting her phone away, in a bag hanging on the clothes rail) We had seen each other before,
performing poetry, but this was the first time we had spoken. I thought, from his performances, that he
was arrogant, self-centred and drunk.
Pete (stands)
I’m not an alcoholic.
Just because I like the occasional beer-inspired frolic.
I don’t drink every day - and I don’t drink on my own,
There’s never any alcohol at home.
But socially - beer is my drug of choice.
It’s beer that gives me voice.
It gives me wings - the confidence to sing
And mastery of any social situation.
I find liberation in inebriation.
Now some people look down on this,
Say ‘There’s that Pete again - on the piss’,
And condemn my beer-induced abandon;
Begrudge the fact that I can walk sometimes
Even when I haven’t got a leg to stand on.
But that’s okay. It’s a price I’m prepared to pay And besides, I get far too pompous
If I don’t make a fool of myself, at least once a day.
For you see, inside, there’s a big empty,
That sober and alone, torments me;
A vast dark universe, and a big black hole
And legions of demons that claw at my soul.
There’s a battle of good and evil, a fight between wrong and right
Fought out in my head, every sober night,
With such treasonous reason, such worrisome thinking;
And one of the things I worry about
Is, of course, my drinking.
And sometimes - I just can’t cope
With putting my flaws under such a microscope.
So I go out lots, and drink too much,
Because I might just fall over
Without beer as a crutch. And it works.
But I concede that when I do finally come to meet my Nemesis,
The chances are it’ll be on licensed premises.
And I thought she was twee …
He sits on chair L. Angie moves to the front of the stage and addresses the audience
Angie Me, a pet? Get real I do just what I feel.
And if that happens to include
Lying on my back and stretching, lewd
And unashamed, with every little whisker twitch
Enticing you to scratch my itch,
Inviting you to stroke my ears and rub my head, to
Tickle hard that bit on my neck, just there,
And - oh, don’t stop, please, no not there, yes there,
Oh that’s it, more more more please more No my head, you fool, forget my paw Oh yes, oh yes, Oh God of cats now now now now
Prrr prrr prrrr prrrr prrrrr prrrrr miaow ...
But we arranged to meet in a pub in Ledbury. I was quite excited - more because it would give me an
opportunity to perform than because of Pete. I was already seeing somebody else. But Pete sounded
much more - I don’t know - interesting than I had thought he would be. No. I’ll be honest. More
intelligent. I was scared, as well - standing up almost unannounced and performing poems in strange
pubs sounded pretty terrifying.
Angie catches sight of Pete and sits on chair R.
Pete?
Pete You must be Angie. Hallo. Let me get you a drink.
He stands, moves to the props table and brings back a half-pint glass of shandy, which he puts on the table
Angie Thanks.
She drinks from the glass, but in putting it back onto the table knocks it over, spilling some on Pete
Oh! I’m sorry! I’m so clumsy, I feel so stupid …
She picks up a serviette from the table and they both mop, ineffectually
Pete It don’t matter none.
Angie turns to face the audience
Angie And that’s how it started - of all the things to do, I spilt a glass of shandy over him. I thought how ridiculous, that’s the sort of thing that only happens in films, in daft romantic comedies. But - well,
obviously we had nothing in common.
She turns back towards Pete
Pete So, tell me about yourself. All I know is that Ian said you’d be okay.
Angie Well - do you want the long version or the short version?
Pete I think I’d like the long one, but the other Gorillas could be here any minute, so you’d better make it
quick. For now.
Angie Okay, here goes. Not particularly happy as a child, good degree in psychology, work in IT. Married
twice. First time was a mistake - too young; second one I would say was a mistake - he’s a bastard but we had two lovely kids. Unspeakably awful divorce. He stole the children. They live with him - not
how I wanted it, but there it is. I live in a nice house in a nice village, four bedrooms so the kids could
come and stay with me, but they never do. Started writing poetry two years ago. Now it’s your turn.
Pete Expelled from school when I was fifteen - I’d discovered sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll - and
never had what you would call a proper job. Road-laying, hop-picking, helping with lambing in the
Orkneys. Now I look after the trees on a fruit farm. Never been married. Live in a caravan at the edge of a
field. And I’m broke.
Both turn to face front
Angie We were about as different …
Pete As two people could be.
Once This Was A Poet
Plot Summary
An unusual play by Brenda Read-Brown with poetry; an uplifting drama that makes people laugh and
moves them to tears.
When two apparently incompatible poets meet, they find an immediate attraction. Their performance
poems show, often hilariously, aspects of their lives so far, and they share a summer of amazing
experiences. But one of them becomes seriously ill. They never lose their sense of humour, and find that
hope and happiness can be everlasting.
ISBN 978-1-907307-08-9