27.055 MHz Avaloniad, 0: An Invocation

"Sunt lacrimae rerum . . ."
---Vergil, The Aeneid, I

 

 

Provocatively absent from this day,
this beautiful, midsummer day some weeks
before the next year's school term will begin:
your parents cannot now confine you to
the house or to their disapproval of
choices that they deem so subversively
rebellious that they cannot speak of them
in open conversation with their friends
and relatives ("What would Doris, across
the street think, if she noticed you? And what
would hefty Joe, next door, who, after all,
is our assistant postmaster downtown,
say if he saw you from his dirveway now?
And what would Aunt Alberta have to say?---
she has been disapointed in you since
you were in kindergarten. We must face
these people often. What are we to say?
Who put these strange ideas into your head?---
the way you dress, the books you choose to read?")
But those are echoes; they will silence, soon.
Your long hair does not need to be slicked down,
but let it fall around your shoulders, loose.
Your tie-dyed tee-shirt, in metallic tones,
will suit your slender frame quite well enough.
Your faded, denim bell-bottoms are just
right for your leisure, and the wide, frayed cuffs
need not conceal your eagerly bare feet
for which a lot of grass stain warmly waits.
Thus freed step out into the wide backyard:
wait for your Muse, Erato, to arrive---
her curves clad in a tank top, denim skirt
("mini---" according to the time's standards)
and sky-blue tights she has worn without shoes.
She will inspire a brief epyllion
for you, as you enjoy her company;
and I---the old man you have now become---
will write it down as best I can and post.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My thanks to Il Miglior Fabbro, PATRICIAJJ, whose wise advice and always good counsel retrieved this poem, and the concept of which it is the first part, after I had cowardly removed it.

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patriciajj's picture

It's a good thing that you

It's a good thing that you decided to post this, because it is worthy of being read, no, experienced through the prism of time and the understanding we acquire in the crucible of life. This reminiscence has the expansive emotional impact of an epic and the sharp focus of a micro poem in a smooth, spare voice that kept me gliding down the page and deep into this pivotal time in your life— "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man", if I may. Your experiences, first a tempest of parental disapproval that unwinds into gentle, glowing romance, are delivered with skill and wisely chosen detail. And then the best was yet to come—they land in soft echoes on a perfect, endearing and memorable end. Loved this: 

She will inspire a brief epyllion

for you, as you enjoy her company;
and I---the old man you have now become---
will write it down as best I can and post.

Starward's picture

Thank you so much.  Your

Thank you so much.  Your encouragement has strengthened me to proceed to the next part of the task.  If I can complete it, this poem will exist due to your encouragement.


Starward