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Introduction
This is the woeful tale of Dear Old Martha Mayhurst
Her birth, her death, her tragic life before your very eyes,
Do not rush, sit back relax, and live her life yourself,
You may just find it surprising the things she’s gone through.
But life is not a picnic, for her it was a struggle.
So learn a lesson from her life and apply it to your own.
You may never see such atrocities on paper.
But don’t be shocked sit back and read you might just learn something.
Here is the sad tale of Dear Old Martha Mayhurst.
1974
You pinch my cheeks, you look at me
Wishing I was your own,
Your stupid gaga language,
A mystery in itself
This itchy romper suit,
Frustrating me,
It bulges on the bum,
I just can’t wait till I grow up,
To show you who I am,
I’ll be a star I tell you,
You cannot begin to imagine,
I’ll live in Hollywood,
With the queen,
And all the famous boys and girls.
I lay peering out this glass box,
Wondering what I can achieve,
I’ve now escaped the sticky cage,
I’ve lived in for 9 months,
You’ll never hold me back again,
I’ll fly up to the moon,
On silver screen and VHS,
By 1992,
You’ll never stop me,
Never, ever,
I’m a rebel from today,
My name is Martha Mayhurst
And I am here to stay.
1975
Crawling is such fun,
But now it’s time to stop,
To join the ever growing craze,
Of walking on two feet,
It seems a crazy concept,
To balance your whole self,
On little bits of skin and bone,
But now it’s time to walk,
My toes, grip on the soft, soft floor
Determination to walk,
My heart is fully there
To do as grown-ups do,
One step, then another,
I fall flat on my face,
I’ll never be a dancer unless I learn to walk,
Again I try, but no success,
To walk across the room,
Is there some deadly secret?
A little hint of clue,
Or maybe it’s just a little task for me to do,
This time I determined,
The camera is zoomed in,
I walk across and touch it,
The camera makes it easy,
It is my natural home,
My first ever feature film.
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1976
Say Daddy said my Daddy
Say Auntie said my Aunt
Say Mummy said my Mother
But I did not reply
Say hello or thank you,
Say teddy or dog,
Say woof woof or miaow
Or even quack quack quack,
But through the deadly silence,
I said none of these,
I opened up my mouth,
So wide for all to see,
The grown-ups peering round,
Hoping for a word,
Anything that’s cute,
That they could tell their friends,
But all I said was Hollywood,
And they looked in dismay,
They could not hold me back,
From being such a star,
1977
Happy Birthday Martha,
With yellow butter icing,
You’re 3 years old,
Is written on the bottom,
As if I didn’t know,
15 little friends, with oddly shaped gifts,
I quickly snatch them one by one,
From their little hands,
A colouring book?
Some new felt pens?
Is this the best that you can do?
Where is my tiara?
My ballgown or my high heels?
Would you give these gifts
To her majesty herself?
We sit and have a sip,
Of the finest lemonade,
My mother had prepared a feast,
But all they do is sit and glare,
Their table manners are atrocious,
I have to leave at once,
My social death has just begun,
My career might as well be over,
Already C-list in my fame.
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1978
“First day at school! First day at school!”
I’m screaming round the house,
At last I have the chance to shine for what I really am,
My mother checks my pig tails and straightens my dress,
I wolf on down my cornflakes with mouthfuls of orange juice,
I just can’t wait! I just can’t wait!
I’m thinking to myself.
The walk to school was long,
My nerves bubbling inside,
The first full length production of Martha Mayhurst,
They’ll love me, I’m sure, I say to myself walking down the path,
I let my mother’s hand go as I rushed on through the gate,
And rushing to my classroom where the other losers wait.
“I’m Martha Mayhurst!” I shouted
My arms spread out for all to see
But no one did appreciate how wonderful I was
“Mother we’re going home” I said in a little whine
“A stage school or an acting school but anything but this”
She laughed and so did all the kids
At my sheer ambition. One day I’ll prove them wrong
Came my thoughtful chuckle,
As I sat into my seat and began to sulk.
1979
I hear on the radio,
About a nudie beach,
I’m wondering to myself,
Why bare yourself to all?
Bits and bobs hanging everywhere,
It’s not a pretty sight.
Maggie Thatcher,
The first female in power,
She is my inspiration,
I want to be like her,
Bossing everyone around,
A woman with great power.
I wonder whether number 10,
Is in Hollywood.
The first Sony Walkman,
What’s this all about,
Listening to music,
Whilst walking about,
One day I’ll buy one,
Like all the rich boys and girls,
And I’ll be signing in the ears,
Of everybody round the world,
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(Note: This poem is a serialisation and
will be updated on a regular basis).
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