PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[circa 1926, at Dover]

1
My pleasure to meet you today, young Wall.
Your father, our conductor on the train,
asked if I would mind meeting you for tea,
because, though young, you have the urge to write.
"No trouble," I told him, "None, none at all."
So I have come, and hope that I may be
of some assistance, though however slight.
Who have you read?  Yes, Mary Shelley:  she
provides a young man with real inspirations.
Who else?  Hugo; and, also in that grain,
Stoker:  your choice of genre is quite plain:
but write your own work, no mere imitations.
Life will present you with strange situations.
And since you have to eagerly inquired,
I will say how my Phantom was inspired.

2
I visited the carnival at Nice;
and just past twilight, on the second day,
I was invited to a small cafe
the scribbled note was signed by "Monsieur Rice."
And, at a table in the shadows, there,
I met a tall man in a hideous---
and, to me, almost terrifying---mask.
Ancient he seemed, and quite mysterious,
but spoke in tones refined and courteous,
unlike most revelers---tipsy and loud.
Leaning backward, against the wrought iron chair,
he said he wished to offer me a tale
that I could novelize---an easy task:
a story of great love, greatly amiss,
and passion, but without mere carnal vice,
and yet denied its consummation's bliss;
a pretty romance, with a dash of spice.
That kind of premise custom cannot stale,
as old Will Shakespeare most definitely knew:
provided it is told with serious
respect, and not as some mere game or sham.
"I leave it in your most talented care,
"to do with as you will, Monsieur Leroux.
"Now I must leave--- to see a farce, last show,
"expensive tickets."  As he stood to go,
he said, "If you notice an anagram,
"somewhere, I do hope that you will enjoy
"the small bon mot:  it is just slightly coy."
Then he walked out, and vanished in the crowd.

Starward

[jlc]