Bernard in the Pram (verses in iambic pentameter)

[Rodney]

I wrote this about ten years ago. (I go through “poetic moods” now and then.) It was to be the intro to a much longer narrative poem. The lines incorporate some themes in my personal, intellectual, and artistic life (see for example my composition “Halley’s Comet” posted somewhere on the Rebirth of Reason forum). Poetic influences can be discerned, naturally.

I

A comet does not move the way one thinks;

Although it throws off many trailing kinks,

So headlong to the sun it seems to go,

In truth there is no destination—no

Comet’s resting place; it means to swing

Around the sun, and back to space to spring.

Yet every orbit brings a sense of change:

Age and newness—commonplace and strange!

Trailing kinks—dissolving into fire;

Orbit’s wings, bending higher and higher.

There could have been a firefly meteor

(Of which a comet is one metaphor)

On the night Bernard was in the pram

—Long before he thought to say “I am”—

Looking straight above as infants must

Gazing with a rapt unspoken trust

While he that left him there—whose name was Pano—

Rhapsodized upon the new piano

And hit upon one liquid melody

So ordered, it engulfed what was to be

A supremely ordered mind. Perhaps

Supine to the world—the night, the stars,

Moonlight twixt the clouds that passed in bars—

And he most asked himself about the world,

Answers came: a meteor was hurled.

And perhaps, that instant it was flashing,

Two of Pano’s semitones were clashing,

Crying for some form of resolution

Implying there may be short-lived confusion

Then moving to the logic of an answer—

(Proving it could not have been mere chance or

Accident of random improvising.)

That answer both demanded and surprising!

Perhaps, I say—I only mean it may be

What happened to someone’s precocious baby.

But now let’s leave the realm of speculations

(Do I detect in some a slight impatience?)

And concentrate on what we know occurred—

Not hesitate on any single word.

II

In later years, Bernard could quite recall

Dim conversation from across the hall

Between his parents, as he watched in bed

The winking of a star behind a shed,

The glooming of the moon beyond a tree—

Both objects of his nightly reverie.

They spoke of Bernard’s future, and were done

With calling him a special kind of son,

Whose talents, soon, the larger world would know,

When father said, “His wanderings to and fro

Are over. At the Future Exposition

Tomorrow, we’ll fulfill every ambition!

Many business people will be there

Showing uncounted wonders, to ensnare

The brightest girls and boys from Nascent High,

Who, in their turn (the brave ones and the shy,

The brightest ones, though innocent of age)

Will dare to face the hall upon a stage

And demonstrate the wonders they have learned:

How one can touch a flame and not be burned;

The cadence of Ulysses, sung by heart;

A pas de deux; a masterpiece of art ...”

But mother interrupted to remind him

The boy was not the one to leave behind him

Those wonders and those tortures—early youth—

That earnest and uncertain search for truth

Important to his nature. Could he find

His only pleasure—nourishment of mind—

In one, directed, businesslike career?

And father said, “The future drawing near

Will not permit another year’s delay:

Let him forget it and enjoy that day!

Did I hang my head in lonesome thought?

Power, life, and love were what I sought.

Did I long for hours on the beach?

Landward things had so much more to teach!

Ever since I was astray, near-mad,

A hunger for the world was what I had.”

“A hunger for the world”—and like a bell

Striking in the ear, Bernard then fell

Deep sleeping, and it ran into a stream

With other words to interrupt his dream.

*

There was a meadow, and a grassy hill,

All shining shadows—he can see them still—

And in these shadows there were worlds of hope

Though there was only sunshine on the slope,

Though there was only daylight on the field,

They still hid some things yet to be revealed.

(And I will tell you what the secrets were

In course of time. For now, I will demur

And give the story.)

[The verses end here.]

Edited December 30, 2006 by ashleyparkerangel

[Dragonfly]

Perhaps you mean "pas de deux" instead of "pas de doux"?

[Rodney]

Perhaps you mean "pas de deux" instead of "pas de doux"?

Yes, of course. Thank you. There is another word I think might be wrong--must consult the MS if I can find it. (I used a voice recognition program to key this in last year.)

[Ellen Stuttle]

[The verses end here.]

Darn. I want more!!

Ellen

___

[Rodney]

Well, thanks for that. (Now, where did I put that outline? [Was there one?])