Narrative Poetry – The Marble Don

I’d been meaning to post the opening of the long (over 400 lines) narrative poem that I’m planning to eventually publish, with illustrations. So I finally got my act together this morning.  (The actual title of the poem is “The Marble Don”, but I occasionally subtitle it “The Damnation of Don Juan”.) The inspiration for it came from a confluence of sources.

When I was growing up my parents frequently took me and my younger sister to “cultural” programs: pianists, dance companies, the occasional opera. We lived in a smallish city, which had no civic auditorium, so these concerts were held at the local high school. My dad was an opera buff, so without a doubt, we would see the operas.  On one occasion, a touring company performed Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Mozart was a big favorite of Dad’s. So we went.

For some reason, that night the stage curtains were not working, so the audience got to see all the scene changes being made. The crucial scene in the graveyard came along – where Don Giovanni invites the statue of a man he’d killed (because he was trying to seduce the man’s daughter) to come to dinner, and the statue accepts. Well, in this production, the statue was portrayed by some poor guy in full plate armor. He had to be helped up onto the statue base, stand absolutely still through the whole scene, until he bowed his acceptance of the invitation. And then he had to be helped off the base. The stage setting was atmospheric, and lit with blue light. And the audience gave the Statue Guy a round of applause when he got off the base – interesting what happens when you get to see “behind the scene”.  Anyway, that occasion stuck in my head.

Years later, when I was in graduate school, the Metropolitan Opera was doing a production of Don Giovanni that was going to be broadcast on TV, and TV Guide had an article on the Don Juan legend. I remembered the earlier occasion, and kept the article, thinking “This could actually make a cool narrative poem”, meaning the whole “invite the statue to dinner and it comes” bit.  Little did I know.

Not long after, when my brain was being very stimulated by studies, and when I should have been working on two major papers (one on Beowulf and one on the Aeneid), I instead started composing “The Marble Don”.

I have never felt so inspired about a piece of writing, nor have I worked quite as hard at finding just the right word, just the right phrase, just the right meaning. But it was exhilarating.  Well, there you have the genesis of the piece.

And here are the opening 40 odd lines of the opus.

THE MARBLE DON

Beneath dark sulking clouds of haughty night,
the graveyard stood, o’er-shadowed by the church,
whose massive blocks of solid stone gave form
and substance to the faith its makers held
within their breasts, as much protected there
in flesh and blood as in the stone and rock,
high rising toward the heavens, of that old shrine.
___The moon was hid from sight, her pale sheen grasped
in clutching mounds of clouds, weighed down with rain.
Cool moisture unprecipitate lay soft
like mists of floating feathers in the air
about the tombs and markers of the dead,
the silent sentinels of earthy gates
into the world beyond; odd shapes, devoid
of mercy for the living, yet in praise
most strong for those who walked the world no more.
The silence of moist soil sat still and watched
in vigil crosses carved of stone, and saints
and angels, masters, warriors, frozen forms
of leaders and of heroes of the town.
___The newest of the guardians, freshly shaped
of milky marble, carven with respect,
up-rose between two trees, whose drooping limbs
bowed down before the graven countenance
of Don Alfredo, Magistrate of law.
The mass portrayed the vigor of the Don,
the peaceful strength which filled his stance in life,
and wisdom molded on the features firm
proclaimed the justice sharp he wielded long.
Between the hands made durable in stone
which had, in life, inviolate, passed down
the judgements fair, there rested now a sword;
the heavy robes of law, now shaped in rock,
encased the shoulders broad, and fell in folds;
the marble declaration of a man
kept watch before the vault, where lay the form
which once had breathed, had loved, had laughed, had wept.
___The silver mists encircled the tall shape,
a moving shroud which veiled each small detail
of sculptor’s art; the statue stood serene,
awaiting, ever vigilant, some doom
unseen by those whose blood runs warm in flesh.

Comments

jpantalleresco   Jul. 20th, 2007 07:53 pm (UTC)

First a compliment. Not everyone can write in this form. You’ve got a good start to it. I want to read the rest though before I comment though on any suggestions. Still, quite bold. I like the start. JP

scribblerworks    Jul. 20th, 2007 08:25 pm (UTC)

Thanks for the compliment. As I said, it was a lot of work, but also exhillerating. As for it being “a good start” — oh, the piece is done, and has been for a long time. (I’ll email you a copy of the whole tonight, when I get home.)  That’s one of those things that comes with doing something that is “out of fashion”. Nobody publishes stuff like this much anymore. So this has sat in my files for years, and only been seen/heard (I’ve read it aloud on a couple of occasions – it takes about a half hour) a few times. Hence the recent decision to go the print-on-demand route with illustrations. Still… I love playing with words this way. I have another attempt sitting around, partly done – Odysseus and the Sirens. But it got stalled out and I haven’t gotten back to it. I know the manuscript is hidden in my papers somewhere.

(This was originally posted on LiveJournal.)