THE CENOTAPH

Written by
Roxanne Meats
Based on a poem by
Charlotte Mew
2 Western Road
Maidstone
ME168NE
INT. HOME
We see an elderly man sat in a worn armchair.
Our narrator rubs his eyes and lean back, he stares off into
the distance, we take in his surroundings. Photographs are
across the room, some faded and in old wooden frames, others
having shining metal frames reflecting the white colors of
the walls. All photographs appear to be of young men and
women.
NARRATOR
Not yet will those measureless
fields be green again.
We are now outside surrounded in green fields
NARRATOR (CONTD)
Where only yesterday the wild sweet
blood of wonderful youth was shed;
The feilds are suddenly tinted red, men walk across the
fields.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
There is a grave whose earth must
hold to long, to deep a stain,
Though for ever over it may we
speak proudly as wemay tread.
Images of soldiers holding photos of men.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
But here, where the watchers by
lonely hearts from the thrust of in
ward sword have more slowly bled.
A image of a Cenotaph is shown in darked skys.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
We shall build the Centaph:
Victory, winged, with peace, winged
too, at the coloums head.
We see poppies handed to the public to be applied to their
clothing.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
And over the stair way, at the foot-
oh! Here, Leavedesolate, passionate
hands to spread
NARRATOR (CONTD)
Violets, roses and laurel, with
small, sweet, tinkling country
things. Speaking so swiftly of
other springs.
Sweeping images of flowers in fields and houses behind.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
From the little gardens of little
places where son or sweet heart was
born and bread. In splendid sleep
with thousands of brothers, to
lovers- to mothers.
Fields covered in grass and trees.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
Here, too, lies he, under the
purple, the green, the red,
NARRATOR (CONTD)
It is all young life; it must break
some womens heart tosee, such
brave, gay coverlet to such a bed!
More family memebers of those that were lost stand in the
silence to remember.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
Only, when all is done and said,
God is not mocked and neither are
the dead, for this will stand in
our market place, wholl sell,
wholl buy.
The Cenotaph surrounded with mourning figures.
NARRATOR (CONTD)
While looking into every busy
whores and hucksters face, as
they drive their bargains, is the
face of God: and some young,
piteous, murdered face.
2.