(A lone voice whispers)
Well, hello from just below hell, where lost souls like me go.
To wallow in limbo and be swallowed by the ever-shifting shadows of death's last frown.
Until I too walk underground, upon its unholy black ground.
While waiting like a cargo slave for a certain sound.
Of redemption no less.
Whilst dreaming of times bound in red tape, no longer around.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
MONOLOGUE SCRIPT
Title:
My true love called Jessie Lee
SETTING:
A stranger kneels in the dark with a white candle burning and begins praying.
(A lone voice whispers)
I knew her, my Jessie Lee, like a gift from God. From the spiritual realm. Unmeasured by time itself.
When Love and Fate entwined like red wine and water to make our own beloved communion wine.
But now it's too late.
For like her grandmother and mother before her, she now sings one of heaven's divine love songs.
I tried singing one after she died. Drank so much old whiskey but couldn't sing along.
But I still try to believe as I grieve that you sent her here to me, O Lord.
To undo so many wrongs.
That you sent her straight into my hard, lonely life like an angel from beyond the sky.
Where she brought me true happiness before you called her back and she had to die.
For that I am grateful, Lord. For before she came, I was broken and on the brink.
All my hopes and dreams just seemed to float away and sink.
But when my beloved Jessie Lee came and called my name.
She brought that something so special that your sun seemed to shine ever so brighter and my soul felt lighter.
I know she's there watching in the shadows with you, O Lord.
So, hello Jessie Lee.
I just want to thank you for being you and leading me out of the darkness.
Even though you're back, watching by the Holy Sea.
It's why I pray.
Pray every day like today.
Even though my broken heart skips.
For one day I know we'll be reunited. Just you wait and see.
The lonely cowboy and his angel called Jessie Lee.
But until then.
Until then I'll face the world and all its dangers and hardships with that smile you both gave me.
(Bows. Closes his eyes and whispers)
Amen.
(The stranger then bends and blows out the candle. The room fills with darkness)
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
Danse Macabre
(A lone voice whispers)
If I died tomorrow, would you still miss me?
Would you remember the first day you met or kissed me?
If my long walk home to atone was announced by the sudden ringing of a golden bell, would you cry as I broke life's spell?
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
A poem exploring existential vulnerability:
A fear of dying unloved or unremembered.
A longing for emotional permanence in an impermanent world.
A gentle confrontation with death, not in terror, but in lonely honesty.
It’s not morbid—it’s tender. Death is simply the lens through which the speaker asks the most human question of all:
“Did I matter to you?”
Do you think you will be remembered in ten years?
Beyond birthdays or at Christmas?
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(A lone voice whispers)
As I dreamt on the 18th of January, I pondered vulnerability.
A bearded man in a white robe appeared to me.
He said,
“John, I have a message for you. Take my hand, my son.”
As I took his hand, he took me to a huge grey and black mountain.
Gazing at me with deep brown, mesmerizing eyes, he continued.
“When you were all born into this realm before me, and all in the highest of heights.
We gave you all a beautiful light to show the world, but when you entered the world and listened to its descriptions of happiness, many of you built these mountains before us.
Mountains of fear, self-doubt, and the manipulation of nether beings, which slowly cover that beautiful light we once gave you to share.
Can you still feel yours, John?”
He asked inquisitively.
I answered.
“A pulse of light that sometimes appears when I feel lucid,
My Lord.”
I whispered.
“Take my hand, John.
Do not be afraid, for when you allow me back into your life,
And I'll open up those small caverns within these mountains of fears and self-doubts to once again lead you to the light.
You once truly loved.
Your own divine right to serenade your own individuality and intrinsic happiness.”
As the Lord took my hand.
He approached the huge mountain before me, and there before me was a minute crack, and we shrank and entered it. A strange yellow doorway appeared and grew to accommodate us.
As we walked,
The Lord said.
“Through renewed faith.
One can find a way to the light.”
As we walked, the mountain started breaking down before us, and as his hand increased in heat,
I felt light of all my burdens, and when I looked up.
A bright yellow, shimmering flame lay before me in the distance.
The last words I heard before I awoke were simply this. Which I leave here for you to read.
T
The Dream
(A lone voice whispers)
As I dreamt on the 18th of January, I pondered vulnerability.
A bearded man in a white robe appeared to me.
He said,
“John, I have a message for you. Take my hand, my son.”
As I took his hand, he took me to a huge grey and black mountain.
Gazing at me with deep brown, mesmerizing eyes, he continued.
“When you were all born into this realm before me, and all in the highest of heights.
We gave you all a beautiful light to show the world, but when you entered the world and listened to its descriptions of happiness, many of you built these mountains before us.
Mountains of fear, self-doubt, and the manipulation of nether beings, which slowly cover that beautiful light we once gave you to share.
Can you still feel yours, John?”
He asked inquisitively.
I answered.
“A pulse of light that sometimes appears when I feel lucid,
My Lord.”
I whispered.
“Take my hand, John.
Do not be afraid, for when you allow me back into your life,
And I'll open up those small caverns within these mountains of fears and self-doubts to once again lead you to the light.
You once truly loved.
Your own divine right to serenade your own individuality and intrinsic happiness.”
As the Lord took my hand.
He approached the huge mountain before me, and there before me was a minute crack, and we shrank and entered it. A strange yellow doorway appeared and grew to accommodate us.
As we walked,
The Lord said.
“Through renewed faith.
One can find a way to the light.”
As we walked, the mountain started breaking down before us, and as his hand increased in heat,
I felt light of all my burdens, and when I looked up.
A bright yellow, shimmering flame lay before me in the distance.
The last words I heard before I awoke were simply this. Which I leave here for you to read.
“Believe in me and be reborn to the light.
Tell those in need."
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
Is life a temporary, shared journey where every step matters?
Do we leave traces through love, connection, and experiences?
And when the walking is done, do we return peacefully to something eternal, where struggle no longer exists?
Title.
The Snow of Life.
(A lone voice whispers)
We come, we go.
When our feet touches the snow of life and into it we flow.
We meet.
When our feet take us to others. Our father, sister, brother, or mother.
When our feet touches the snow of life and into it we flow.
We meet and greet friends or lovers as we grow old and even settle down. Maybe having children or the odd pet around.
When our feet take us into life to swim barefoot in its sacred waters.
When our feet touches the snow of life and into it we flow.
And at the very end, when our poor feet are tired, we walk back through our snow filled with so many different sized footsteps.
Back to the very beginning.
As from life, we retire.
Where our feet no longer touches the snow of life, and into Eternity we flow.
To join so many others.
In a place where endless tears are sometimes wept.
For there is no more snow, only time to reflect.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
Letting go without erasing what mattered.
Title.
Transition.
(A lone female sings as a slow piano plays.)
Intro.
It's January.
January.
And it's time to say goodbye.
Verse 1.
Goodbye forever, but please don't cry.
It's January.
January.
Don't cry because love never truly dies as time flies by.
Chorus.
But it's over.
It's over.
It's January.
January.
Verse 2.
Like a bridge fallen over troubled waters.
It's over.
It's January.
Refrain.
So goodbye forever, but please don't cry.
Don't cry because true never truly dies as time flies by.
Chorus.
But it's January.
It's over.
Bridge.
Over as that bridge in January.
Falls in troubled waters.
Outro.
It's over.
It's over.
It's January.
It's January.
It's over.
© Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
The Shadow Self
(A lone voice whispers)
It came for me late last night.
Sliding and creeping whilst I was sleeping.
Slowly closing in, stinking of deep corruption, cold, smoky whiskey, and sin.
And as I looked in, from just beyond my astral windows as I dreamed and checked in, on my physical kingdom.
It saw me and smiled, crocodile wide and mouthed.
“Be seeing you soon, manchild. In those dark lands of sweet dreams of The Great In-Between.”
Then it slithered away after being pulled back by grey decomposed, arms and elbows.
To the wild, smoke-filled meadows and midnight sideshows—where nothing living goes.
Like a freezing winter's night, which forecloses on red roses.
With a wry devil's smile, as it suddenly appears from the shadows.
To all things warm, envelope and enclose.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
A poem exploring the moment someone finds faith in any religion.
A moment from seeking to knowing, from external pursuit to internal acceptance, and from loneliness to spiritual belonging.
Love is revealed not as something missing but as something forgotten—rediscovered through faith and self-recognition.
As they find themselves included in divine joy, celebration, or grace.
Jubilee implies forgiveness, restoration, and release—suggesting that love is not earned, but granted through existence itself. Salute.
Title.
Have you been reborn?
(A lone voice whispers)
I once searched for love over land and sea.
Looked deep into all of life's many mysteries.
Only to find it lives within me: when I finally realized—I'm part of God's own jubilee.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
