Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Cliffhanger poetry

Please note: we had good reason to believe that our baby boy would be eight days old today, and, well, you know how that worked out. And yet, I wrote this in advance and sonnets aren't the most spontaneous form and I'm running it anyway. You'll just have to accept that it's a little incomplete until the boy actually does agree to come be born. And then, probably two months or six years from now when he is actually eight days old, we will hold his bris, the Jewish ceremony at which he will be circumcised and have his name announced before our community and family. All of which, of course, is requisite prequel to his receiving of his all-important Internet Initial. So until then, a poetical tease:

It's Perfectly Poetical Tuesday, in which we are challenged this month to write some Shakespearean poetry. And so, because birthing a child reminds you that you can do absolutely anything, may I present my Shakespearean sonnet of lyrical iambic pentameter, with an octet introducing an quandary and a caesura and a sestet introducing a solution, and, as it turns out, a Spencerian rather than Shakespearean rhyming pattern. Oops. Should have looked these things up instead of relying on foggy college memories. Blame the sleep deprivation: I am, after all, a mom to a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and an eight-day-old. (Dude. That's crazy.)

But isn't he cute?
Oh. I don't have one of those yet, do I...

And don't you want to know how to refer to him?

‘A rose by any other name
Would smell as sweet,’ we all are taught,
But what if Nature’s famous dame
Was left unnamed, as if forgot?
‘What’s in a name?’ but Man’s whole lot,
His reputation, his life’s zeal.
So whence a babe is born he ought
Be dubbed strong names with great appeal.
The term you’ve had was never real.
The ‘Groundhog’ tag was naught but air
Until the day we could reveal
Your given name’s initial, fair:
For all the online world to see
You’re henceforth known as little __.
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cndymkr / jean said...

I feel so bad that he isn't here yet. I hope he decides to arrive sometime this week or maybe just sometime this month.

Stephanie said...

Your introduction - complete with a mishmash of vaguely Shakespearean terms - is priceless! The poem itself is clever and playful and fabulous! Thanks for joining in!

Keep us posted on your little guy. I'll be praying he comes at exactly the right moment.

Anonymous said...

And when, forsooth, the lad appears

And follows his art, perhaps Euclid's or Lear's

Filling older faces with smiles and tears

We'll look back upon this fortnight

And some will spin tales of Midrash

And others, those of mishegas

And all will agree, there never was
A boy of such delight.

Love, Gramps

This Heavenly Life said...

It's like you were trying to speak to me in that opening paragraph with more unknown words than I usually encounter in a whole year's time. I'll assume you knew of what you were writing :) Which isn't hard to assume given the awesomeness (see? that's a big word!) of your poetry.

I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for little '_''s story to be born.

Heh. Born. Heh.

Still praying for some perfect outcome to this imperfect situation for you. ((Hugs))

Oh, and it's occurred to me that right now? Your not-ever-still quality is being challenged greatly by being so cooped up over there in snowland. A temporary blog re-name may be in order.

(Apparently I had a lot to say tonight. Forgive me?)

直到遠遠 said...
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Emily said...

It's safe to say this is the first time I've encountered a cliffhanger sonnet.

And I love it!

Anonymous said...

Hey - does this mean his initial will rhyme with "see"? Narrowing down the guessing game....