Wimborne Community Theatre never starts with a script! This is gradually put together in workshops and improvisations.
In the early workshops for The Kangaroo and The Tulip Tree the group experimented with words and phrases suggested by the environment of Dean’s Court. When edited, many of these found their way into the final script of the play.
People inside the ring
We’ve abandoned our treasure
They don’t care
It makes you happy and sad
Like pebbles in the pond
The sun comes out
Green leaves for Indian feathers
Happy flower arrangements
Picked and slowly dying
The ark of Spring
Sailing towards the Autumn
An eyeful of gardens
And fallen chestnuts
And glimpses of a house through the trees
These are our ritual offerings
Blowing in a random breeze
Monkey dancing on the ground
Indian feather chanting in a circle
Green hand and ten fingers
From this ring of sticks
And forsaken flowers,
Still as pebbles in a pond,
We glimpse the house
Through the trees.
This eyeful of gardens
Makes you happy
And makes you sad,
Like flower arrangements
That are slowly dying.
A random breeze takes our offerings –
Leaves, feathers, stones, bark
Into an ark of Spring
Steering towards Autumn.
And sailing hearts;
An eyeful of gardens
Reflecting the tulip tree
And the kangaroo.
FOUND OBJECTS AROUND STICK CIRCLE
a chestnut tree flower reminds me of a pineapple
this rough cold stone reminds me of the sea
nice green flowers
rose scented magenta
craggy rock and hidden caves
frothy and delicate like a ballet skirt
broken dandelions remind me of lost time
this reminds me of my nan’s house called Roo0ky Wood
neglected and lost, a lonely leaf
people inside the ring
dan dee coloured – reminds me of family ages
buttercups – broken buttercups
smooth mottled stone with hidden hollows
I like green leaves – like Indian feathers
horse chestnut flowers smell of perfume
EDITED VERSION (used in the opening ritual of the play)
Voice 1: Horse chestnut flowers remind me of pineapples.
Voice 2: This rough cold stone reminds me of the sea and craggy rocks and hidden caves.
Voice 3: But not these smooth mottled stones with hidden hollows.
Voice 4: I like green leaves – pointed like Indian feathers.
Voice 5: And nice green flowers, rose scented magenta, frothy and delicate as a ballet skirt.
Voice 6: Horse chestnut flowers smell of perfume, and lucky clover and lovely bluebells.
Voice 7: Broken dandelion clocks remind me of lost time.
Voice 8: And buttercups … broken buttercups. Neglected and lost. And lonely leaves remind me of …
Voice 9: This bark reminds me of my Nan’s house called Rooky Wood …
Voice 10: Dandy coloured – it reminds me of family ages, going back like time rings inside trees.
All: We are the garden people living inside our own ring of sticks.