Work in Progress
I am writing a thirty-minute one-act play for one of my theatre companies' internal festivals back in Blighty. The format is a sonnet, with one quatrain presented prior to each of the three scenes. The content of the scene is drawn from the preceding stanza. The final couplet should sum up the entire piece.
The play will be a study into three different relationships, one overtly sexual and two theoretically Platonic: the heterosexual lovers, the friends, and the mentor and students; it will attempt to examine the isolation, uncertainty, and loneliness inherent in each.
Here are the first eight lines of the source poem, which I am currently in the process of writing. Thoughts and comments will be appreciated/shot down without mercy.
Like beggars groping blindly in the twilight,
In search of riches lost they'd never gained,
So do we stumble, through a red room, lost, unknown, in fright,
Pursuing love's fruit just beyond the hand.
But then again, when we depend on friends
To spend and lend, and share where lovers smother,
And make it known our brain and bone be not alone,
We find ourself at loss to credit others.
Before the blood sport commences, please be aware that line three has too many syllables on purpose, and that I do mean "ourself" and not "ourselves".