Fairy tale poetry ....

[d_aulnoy]

So, tomorrow, I'm going to be discussing fairy tales and poetry in my grad class on retellings.  I've asked my students to choose a favorite to bring to class with them, but it's got me wondering ... what are your favorite fairy tale poems?

P.S. - Mine is "Mrs. Beast," by Carol Ann Duffy.  In case you were wondering.

 

“Mrs. Beast” – Carol Ann Duffy

 

These myths going round, these legends, fairytales,

I’ll put them straight; so when you stare

into my face – Helen’s face, Cleopatra’s,

Queen of Sheba’s, Juliet’s – then, deeper,

gaze into my eyes – Nefertiti’s, Mona Lisa’s,

Garbo’s eyes – think again.  The Little Mermaid slit

her shining, silver tail in two, rubbed salt

into that stinking wound, got up and walked,

in agony, in fishnet tights, stood up and smiled, waltzed,

all for a Prince, a pretty boy, a charming one

who’d dump her in the end, chuck her, throw her overboard.

I could have told her – look, love, I should know,

they’re bastards when they’re Princes.

What you want to do is find yourself a Beast.  The sex

 

is better.  Myself, I came to the House of the Beast

no longer a girl, knowing my own mind,

my own gold stashed in the Bank,

my own black horse at the gates

ready to carry me off at one wrong word,

one false move, one dirty look.

But the Beast fell to his knees at the door

to kiss my glove with his mongrel lips – good –

showed by the tears in his bloodshot eyes

that he knew he was blessed – better –

didn’t try to conceal his erection,

size of a mule’s – best.  And the Beast

watched me open, decant, and quaff

a bottle of Chateau Margaux ‘54

the year of my birth, before he lifted a paw.

 

I’ll tell you more. Stripped to his muslin shirt

and his corduroys, he steamed in his pelt,

ugly as sin.  He had the grunts, the groans, the yelps,

the breath of a goat.  I had the language, girls.

The lady says Do this.  Harder.  The lady says

Do that.  Faster.  The lady says That’s not where I meant.

At last it all made sense.  The pig in my bed

was invited.  And if his snout and trotters fouled

my damask sheets, why, then he’d wash them.  Twice.

Meantime, here was his horrid leather tongue

to scour in between my toes.  Here

were his hooked and yellowy claws to pick my nose,

if I wanted that.  Or to scratch my back

till it bled.  Here was his bullock’s

head to sing off-key all night where I couldn’t hear.

Here was a bit of him like a horse, a ram,

an ape, a wolf, a dog, a donkey, dragon, dinosaur.

 

Need I say more?  On my Poker nights, the Beast

kept out of sight.  We were a hard school, tough as fuck,

all of us beautiful and rich – the Woman

Who Married a Minotaur, Goldilocks, The Bride

Of the Bearded Lesbian, Frau Yellow Dwarf, et Moi.

I watched those wonderful women shuffle and deal –

Five and Seven Cared Stud, Sidewinder, Hold ‘Em, Draw –

I watched them bet and raise and call.  One night,

a head-to-head between Frau Yellow Dwarf and Bearded’s Bride

was over the biggest pot I’d seen in my puff.

The Frau had the Queen of Clubs on the baize

and Bearded the Queen of Spades.  Queen each.

Frau Yellow raised.  Bearded raised.  Goldilocks’ eyes

were glued to the pot as though porridge bubbled there.

The Minotaur’s wife lit a stinking cheroot.  Me,

I noticed the Frau’s hand shook as she placed her chips.

Bearded raised her a final time, then stared,

stared so hard you felt your frock would melt

if she blinked.  Some dykes are like that.  Frau Yellow

swallowed hard, then called.  Sure enough, Bearded flipped

her Aces over; diamonds, heart, the public Ace of Spades.

And that was a lesson learned by all of us –

The drop-dead gorgeous Bride of the Bearded Lesbian didn’t bluff.

 

But behind each player stood a line of ghosts

unable to win.  Eve.  Ashputtel.  Marilyn Monroe.

Rapunzel slashing wildly at her hair.

Bessie Smith unloved and down and out.

Bluebeard’s wives, Henry VIII’s, Snow White

Cursing the day she left the seven dwarfs, Diana,

Princess of Wales.  The sheepish Beast came in

with a tray of schnapps at the end of the game

and we stood for the toast – Fay Wray –

then tossed our fiery drinks to the back of our crimson throats.

Bad girls.  Serious ladies.  Mourning our dead.

 

So I was hard on the Beast, win or lose,

when I got upstairs, those tragic girls in my head,

turfing him out of bed; standing alone

on the balcony, the night so cold I could taste the stars

on the tip of my tongue.  And I made a prayer –

thumbing my pearls, the tears of Mary, one by one,

like a rosary – words for the lost, the captive beautiful,

the wives, those less fortunate than we.

The moon was a hand-mirror breathed on by a Queen.

My breath was a chiffon scarf for an elegant ghost.

I turned to go back inside.  Bring me the Beast for the night.

Bring me the wine-cellar key.  Let the less-loving one be me.

 

Comments

[upstart-crow.livejournal.com]

It's probably gauche to nominate your own ;). So I pick Anne Sexton's "Godfather Death."

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Nevah! Which one of yours *is* your favorite, if you can choose but one?

And Sexton ... ah, Sexton. I *want* to like her poetry, but something about her retellings leaves me cold. Possibly the conscious overlay onto suburbia: it's definitely *a* way to interpret the tales (and one that hadn't been done before), but it's not a one that resonates for me ....

[upstart-crow.livejournal.com]

LOL. Wellll, my "Godfather Death" is dearly beloved, but it's not published yet (should be in time for WisCon though, says Erzebet). While I feel bad having favorite kids, I'd have to say that I think "Handless Came the Maiden" is a great introduction to my work, and certainly one a lot of people like. I'd have said "Elise" but that's not really a fairy tale poem, as it's more of a commentary on Moliere's The Miser.

[upstart-crow.livejournal.com]

The suburban thing is rather jarring, but I was sympatica with it after a short time. I don't like a few of the poems in Transformations, but the majority sit really well with me: "Godfather Death," "Rapunzel" and... ghu. I'm forgetting its name. But the one about the middle-aged woman and the parson having an affair. That one I loved, especially because of the word "dingo-sweet" for sex. Her "Rumpelstiltskin" left me rather cold, though.

[morganlf.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure if it counts, but I love Alfred Noyes' The Highwayman. It's cadence reminds me of a fairy tale, even if it isn't one.

What do you think...is it a fairy tale? And for that matter, what about Keats' La Belle Dame Sans Merci? It's another one of my favs.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Oh, I *love* both of these - and "The Lady of Shallot" as well, as part of the same grouping. I wouldn't classify them as fairy tale poems, though ... folklore, definitely, but not fairy tale.

[savageseraph.livejournal.com]

This is a tough question. I really like Robert Coover's "The Gingerbread House," though that's more a long prose poem. I also love Neil Gaiman's "Locks" and "Instructions."

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Coover's fantastic. The hypertext of his Sleeping Beauty is amazing ....

... and thanks for reminding me about Gaiman's poems! In my head, I classify him as a prose author to the extent that I almost forget his poems until I stumble across them in a collection and remember how wonderful they are.

I am not a good girl.

[fireriven.livejournal.com]

This is definitely a hard question for me to answer, but let me see... also, a note: my answer to this may change depending on the day. Today, my answers are:

Brother and Sister by Terri Windling

and

Bone Mother by Holly Black.

"Bone Mother" inspired the text on my default icon (seen above).

Re: I am not a good girl.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Love the poem(s), LOVE the icon.

[penmage.livejournal.com]

My favorite is Carabosse by Delia Sherman.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

One of mine, too - thanks!

[copperwise.livejournal.com]

I love some of JoSelle's, Deborah writes amazing fairy tale poetry, Seanan McGuire's songs are utterly incredible.

I have to go with Deborah on Holly's "Bone Mother." I love that piece.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Seanan! I am bringing her recent one about witches into the class today. :)

[copperwise.livejournal.com]

I know! You know that's one of the pieces based on one of my pendants, don't you? It makes me obscenely happy.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Augh, I had managed to miss that! How deeply, deeply cool - hey, do you have a link to an image of the pendant? Maybe today can also be the day that I introduce my students to the concept of interstitiality ....

[copperwise.livejournal.com]

Hee. Here it is http://pics.livejournal.com/chimera_fancies/pic/00047x4y

[kayselkiemoon.livejournal.com]

that is really very cool. ^_^ I am not familiar with Seanan McGuire - what is the name of the song?

(brought to you by "better late than never")

[copperwise.livejournal.com]

She is cadhla on LJ. Also soon to be Newest Favorite Urban Fantasy Writer of everybody I know, when her book comes out. She's done several based on my pendants. I am hoping she'll record a pendant album. *g*

The song is here: http://cadhla.livejournal.com/1497135.html

[desayunoencama.livejournal.com]

I've always found Olga Broumas' "Little Red Riding Hood" from her collection BEGINNING WITH O to be very powerful.

And, of course, Anne Sexton's TRANSFORMATIONS.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Ooo Broumas ....

P.S. - We're using FTfW as one of our texts for the class. :)

[desayunoencama.livejournal.com]

Ooo! What lovely news!
:-)

"Bluebeard" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

[belecrivain.livejournal.com]

This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for Truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress;
But only what you see... Look yet again;
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room tonight
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.

Re: "Bluebeard" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Brilliant! Thanks for reminding me of this, I'd completely forgotten it ... and she's one of my favorite *people,* too, after a reading of _Savage Beauty_.

Re: "Bluebeard" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

[belecrivain.livejournal.com]

Yep, Savage Beauty was the source of the poem. Though my favorite poem of hers is Intention to Escape from Him.

[justbeast.livejournal.com]

Holy crap, that is a great poem!
In fact, that's the second time that a Carol Ann Duffy's poem caught my eye - it was with Valentine, before. Are they all good like that?

As for what's my favorite fairy tale poem.. two things -- Pushkin's poems (like Ruslan i Ludmila etc), and a couple of Cat Valente's come to mind, like the scary Sleeping Beauty one, but I don't remember their titles, I'd have to go look em up.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Duffy is a *genius* - the only other poem of hers that I'm aware of online is "Mrs. Lazarus" (which is less of a favorite of mine, but more because the story doesn't resonate with me than because of any flaw in the language). Her stuff is well worth hunting down - she had a collection out while ago called _The World Wife_ that is well worth hunting down.