I have been asked to write a poem pertaining to soap..my contribution..a bit of fun.

 

Drama

Sitting cosy in the evening in my armchair,
I can never help it, but at the TV I do stare.
I feel I am addicted to my favourite soap,
that if I do not get my fix how will I ever cope.

 

My favourite character has just been killed off,
I think he's buried in the garden underneath a trough.
Cheryl's just gone missing with Suzie's husband John.
The private detective, is trying to find out where they've gone.

 

The adverts signal much manic activity,
quick let's get some biccies and a cup of tea.
Shhhh its back on...arms waving fingers to lips,
husband throwing out sarcastic quips.

 

Trudi's had her baby they have named him Paul.
They do say his dad's not Jack they think that it's Saul.
The scene cuts to a courtroom,
atmosphere oppressive all doom.
Camera zooms into the foreman of the jury,
swinging back to the defendant eyes wide and wild.
How will he manage if he loses his child?

Credits start to roll before the verdict is delivered.

I cannot help reflecting how much is in the plot,
and wonder how they fit it into..a thirty minute slot.

 

 

© 2018 Taylor Crowshaw