Little boys are always told,
To answer this on cue:
"What will you be when you get old?
What is it that you'll do?"
This little one is only nine,
He wishes to explore.
His parents think he will be fine,
To help them run the store.
The boy, he wants to narrate things,
To tell man's greatest tales.
He wants to speak of mighty kings,
Instead of work in sales.
I overheard this little thought,
(Narrators often do).
There is a lesson to be taught,
About my point of view.
I lean in to his little face,
He wears a little smirk.
"Listen kid, accept your place
For you don't want this work."
"Those mighty kings no longer rule
Their castles turned to dust.
The King, The Queen, and yes, the Fool,
Have long since left their trust.
You think that stories always last,
As castles rot away.
But time was vicious as it passed,
And stories can decay.
Words, and tastes, and contexts change,
As paper turns to ash.
The text, it turns to something strange,
Or ends up in the trash.
Like "Chivalry", a funny word,
It's built for knights and wars.
Now it's for a skinny nerd,
Who helps hold open doors...
The tales get smaller every year,
And truer too, perhaps.
But when truth hits the human ear,
The legends all collapse..."
With words still rusting in the air,
I told this to the kid.
And to this day, I truly swear,
I don't know what he did.
Perhaps he tells the stories now,
Narrating humankind.
And maybe soon, we'll wonder how,
He left his life behind.
Perhaps he built his castle there
Inside the wreck of mine
His words all picked with perfect care
To make the turrets shine
Or maybe he lives every day,
At some job that he hates.
The stories all are pushed away,
By dropping interest rates.
Narrators choose the things they see,
They filter every sense.
His story, it's eluded me...
... but I don't mind suspense.
Author notes
Several notes for this one... firstly, this one has been kicked around a whole lot and reworked several times. I think maybe it shows the bruises of editing more than anything else, but I'm relatively happy with it.
The idea from this one came from just thinking of the phrase "where do narrators come from?". Some of the inspiration for this came from two Old English poems that I studied a year ago, particularly "The Ruin", which describes the remains of a once great (probably Roman) civilization. The poem itself is missing parts and in some ways it also lies in ruin. I've always been interested in this idea, and somehow matching the idea of a destroyed civilization to a destroyed literary tradition. This is a really long way of explaining all the castle references in the poem.
I would like to thank Schrat for doing a little consulting work on an early draft of this one. She's a great rhyming poet, you should definitely read her work.
As always, thanks for reading, and your feedback is greatly appreciated.
If it didn't make sense to you, ask and I'll clear it up....
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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made perfect sense to me
"Or maybe he lives every day,
At some job that he hates.
The stories all are pushed away,
By dropping interest rates."
Thats my Fav part!
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Absolutely Amazing!
I absolutley loved this! I love the fact that you actually put a good amount of research into it and explained where it came from. I would have never sen a narrator as fainting, but through this I see. It was amazing and it flowed oh so nicely. I feel I could recite this in class and get an amazing response.
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The finished work of this one is great. The editing and additions you put in definitely improved it and made the story much clearer. The last four stanzas are astounding, and I really like the more defined ending. You're welcome, critiquing this one was very fun. I'd be glad to do it anytime.
Awesome job with this one!
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"Perhaps he built his castle there
Inside the wreck of mine"
I like this wording so much. While reading this, my inferences were that while not all dreams are realized, there are some people who through sheer determination to realize their dreams despite all odds. The different options for the outcome of the boy's life added a flavor of realism, but there was still a hint of hope. I approve of this message. ^_^
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I'm so glad you singled out that part as a bit you really liked. This stanza was one I agonized about whether it should be left in or not. Thank you!
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i really like this. the concept that what we dream to be and what we really become in life is so radically different is too true. That is why i stopped going to college I saw myself traveling down a path no where near my dream. So i stopped and now I am on the road (I can only hope) in becoming a well published poet! I am sure everone can relate to this piece in one way or another!
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