Poetry became my passion after I fell in love with Walter de la Mare's "Silver" in Mrs. Edna Pickett's sophomore English class circa 1962.
Introduction: Three Versanelles by Stephen Crane
Stephen Crane is most widely noted for his important American Civil War (1861-1865) novel, The Red Badge of Courage; however, his little series of poems that appeared in Edmund Clarence Stedman’s An American Anthology demonstrates a useful form that poets from time to time engage; it is a form called the versanelle, a term that I coined for use in my commentaries about poems.
A versanelle is usually quite short, twelve lines or fewer, and gathers to an enigmatic punch line that implies an observation about human behavior. It often describes a scene as it tells its very short tale, sometimes quite mysterious and tantalizing. It may use ordinary poetic devices such as metaphor, personification, metonymy, and simile, or it may simply rely on other colorful language.
First Versanelle: "The Wayfarer"
Perceiving the pathway to truth,
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
“Ha,” he said,
“I see that none has passed here
In a long time.”
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
“Well,” he mumbled at last,
“Doubtless there are other roads.”
In novelist Stephen Crane’s much anthologized "The Wayfarer," the speaker imparts a little tale about a traveler who sets out to travel down the "pathway to truth." The traveler is at once "struck with astonishment" that the pathway is overgrown with weeds.
So the traveler remarks that obviously nobody had traveled down this path for quite some time. Then he notices that each weed is actually "a singular knife." It is at this point that the traveler decides he will also abandon this pathway to truth and look for another road.
Of course, the implication is that like all the others who have tried and then abandoned the way to truth, this traveler will not get to truth either, because he would prefer to travel an easier path.
Reading of Crane's "The Wayfarer"
Second Versanelle: "The Violets"
There was a land where lived no violets.
A traveller at once demanded: “Why?”
The people told him:
“Once the violets of this place spoke thus:
‘Until some woman freely gives her lover
To another woman
We will fight in bloody scuffle.’”
Sadly the people added:
“There are no violets here.”
In "The Violets," the speaker relates a tale that accounts for there being no violets growing in a certain location. A traveler asks the residents why there are no violets in the area. They tell him that violets used to proliferate there, but then once upon a time the violets made the odd announcement, "Until some woman freely gives her lover / To another woman / We will fight in bloody scuffle."
The local residents therefore professed, "There are no violets here." The absence of violets demonstrated that the violets fought a bloody battle, and the battle continued until the last violet was dead, and thus no more existed to reproduce. Clearly, not all of Crane’s versanelles can be judged a total success!
Reading of "The Violets"
Third Versanelle: "'Scaped"
Once I knew a fine song,
—It is true, believe me,—
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! they all flew away.
I cried, “Come back, Little Thoughts!”
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.
In Stephen Crane's versanelle titled, "'Scaped," the speaker reports that he used to know a "fine song." He interjects to demand that the listener believe him because "It is true." He continues, "It was all of birds." He kept them "in a basket," and surprisingly, when he opened the basket door, all the birds "flew away."
The speaker demanded of them, "Come back, Little Thoughts!" But of course, they just "laughed" at him and continued on their flight. Then they suddenly transformed into "sand" that seemed to be, "Thrown between [himself] and the sky."
Instead of protecting the "fine song" that might have lived in perpetuity in his wonderful mind, he let the grace notes escape, and they devolved into meaninglessness.
Reading of "'Scaped" --The first reading
© 2016 Linda Sue Grimes