Rodolphus, the only bear
Jun 21, 2023 20:31:36 GMT -5
Isadora Is a Door, Violent BUN Fortuna, and 1 more like this
Post by Reba on Jun 21, 2023 20:31:36 GMT -5
for the first time in quite a while, i was visited by the Ursine Muse the other night and wrote a fireside-poet-ass fairy tale about Rodolphus, the only bear. (clearly he didn't know about Reba .) i think this will be the work i am remembered for when i die. but in the meantime, i hope it will divert a handful of my online buddies.
***
Rodolphus was the only Bear
And never saw another.
He slept inside a lonely lair
And had no Dad or Mother.
Outside there lived the stealthy teams
Of hunched Hyenas yipping,
The Salmon squirming up the streams,
The Warblers frip-frip-fripping,
The Toads who belch, the Snakes who hiss,
The Crows with raking caw,
The straight-mane-shaking Horse — but this
Was all Rodolphus saw.
One night a voice outside the lair
Made him start up awake.
Who called him? Not another Bear.
Was it the Crow? The Snake?
The frip-frip-fripping Bird, perhaps?
A Fish could never come.
Rodolphus felt some time elapse;
The voice had struck him dumb.
Then, “Let us in!” it called again.
The Bear cried, “Friends or foes?”
A heavy pause; then, “We are Men.”
Men? What on earth were those?
They entered on their long back-legs
With fire trapped in stones,
With bundles hung on crooked pegs,
And fearsome browning bones
Strung round their necks. Rodolphus said:
“What country do you come from?
Say what you seek, or where you’re led,
Or who you’re on the run from!”
“We wander round the frosty plain,”
The first among them spoke.
“We eat the earth and drink the rain,
And are a harmless folk.”
“But now we’re tired,” said the second.
“And cold,” cut in the third.
“You’ve quite a cave; we hardly reckoned
You’d mind,” the first Man purred,
“If one turned into four tonight;
We’ll share our lamps with you.”
Rodolphus answered, “Yes, alright…
Though what that is, and who
You are, I still don’t know,” he added.
“But please, come take your rest.”
Across the cavern floor he padded
To sit beside his guests.
They talked about obscure affairs —
Obscure, and too complex
For cave-residing, recluse Bears;
The glints across their necks
Were what engaged Rodolphus most,
When light met dangling bone.
Though they were three, and he the host,
He’d ne’er felt more alone.
“So tell me,” said the nearest Man,
With something like a grin,
“Where be the family, tribe or clan —
Your furry kith and kin?”
“Why, nowhere. I’m the only Bear.
I never saw another.”
“How beastly!” cried the Man. “Unfair!
We’ll sort you out a Brother!”
“We must!” the second Man agreed.
“We’re on it!” said the third,
And then the first Man took the lead
Without another word;
He hurried to their several sacks
And rummaged through them all —
One gathered lamps up, spilling wax,
And one Man scrubbed the wall
With stray stones. “Say, what’s all this for?”
Rodolphus interjected.
“Hush up! And you two, scrub some more,”
The first of them directed.
Then, soon retrieving what he sought,
He raised it in the air —
A black and ashy block he’d brought
From who knows when or where —
And strutted with it towards the pair
Who’d scrubbed the cave-wall clean.
“I hold,” he said, “the soul of Bear,
Whom none has heard or seen!”
With that, upon the whitened rock
He set his hands a-swiping;
With every swipe, his sooty block
Went smudging up and striping
The cave-wall, and Rodolphus cried,
“How dare you wreck my home!”
But once the Man had stepped aside,
In vibrant monochrome
The dusky contours struggled out
From cold stone, here and there;
Rodolphus gasped, with paw to snout —
He saw another Bear.
The first man said, “We’ve done it, boys,”
Then flung apart his jaw
And rattled out a rowdy noise
That sounded like, “Ha! Ha!”
And as Rodolphus sat astounded,
A fervor seized the Men —
And towards their several sacks they bounded
To arm themselves — and then —
Their bitter instinct borne beneath —
They pitched a bloody scuff
Against the Bear — their flint, his teeth —
And killed him soon enough.
They ate his flesh! They wore his skin!
They used the Bear in full;
They beat the walls with rib and shin,
Exhibited his skull,
And slept the night inside his lair.
But only Humankind
Could take away the only Bear
And leave a Bear behind!
The end
***
Rodolphus was the only Bear
And never saw another.
He slept inside a lonely lair
And had no Dad or Mother.
Outside there lived the stealthy teams
Of hunched Hyenas yipping,
The Salmon squirming up the streams,
The Warblers frip-frip-fripping,
The Toads who belch, the Snakes who hiss,
The Crows with raking caw,
The straight-mane-shaking Horse — but this
Was all Rodolphus saw.
One night a voice outside the lair
Made him start up awake.
Who called him? Not another Bear.
Was it the Crow? The Snake?
The frip-frip-fripping Bird, perhaps?
A Fish could never come.
Rodolphus felt some time elapse;
The voice had struck him dumb.
Then, “Let us in!” it called again.
The Bear cried, “Friends or foes?”
A heavy pause; then, “We are Men.”
Men? What on earth were those?
They entered on their long back-legs
With fire trapped in stones,
With bundles hung on crooked pegs,
And fearsome browning bones
Strung round their necks. Rodolphus said:
“What country do you come from?
Say what you seek, or where you’re led,
Or who you’re on the run from!”
“We wander round the frosty plain,”
The first among them spoke.
“We eat the earth and drink the rain,
And are a harmless folk.”
“But now we’re tired,” said the second.
“And cold,” cut in the third.
“You’ve quite a cave; we hardly reckoned
You’d mind,” the first Man purred,
“If one turned into four tonight;
We’ll share our lamps with you.”
Rodolphus answered, “Yes, alright…
Though what that is, and who
You are, I still don’t know,” he added.
“But please, come take your rest.”
Across the cavern floor he padded
To sit beside his guests.
They talked about obscure affairs —
Obscure, and too complex
For cave-residing, recluse Bears;
The glints across their necks
Were what engaged Rodolphus most,
When light met dangling bone.
Though they were three, and he the host,
He’d ne’er felt more alone.
“So tell me,” said the nearest Man,
With something like a grin,
“Where be the family, tribe or clan —
Your furry kith and kin?”
“Why, nowhere. I’m the only Bear.
I never saw another.”
“How beastly!” cried the Man. “Unfair!
We’ll sort you out a Brother!”
“We must!” the second Man agreed.
“We’re on it!” said the third,
And then the first Man took the lead
Without another word;
He hurried to their several sacks
And rummaged through them all —
One gathered lamps up, spilling wax,
And one Man scrubbed the wall
With stray stones. “Say, what’s all this for?”
Rodolphus interjected.
“Hush up! And you two, scrub some more,”
The first of them directed.
Then, soon retrieving what he sought,
He raised it in the air —
A black and ashy block he’d brought
From who knows when or where —
And strutted with it towards the pair
Who’d scrubbed the cave-wall clean.
“I hold,” he said, “the soul of Bear,
Whom none has heard or seen!”
With that, upon the whitened rock
He set his hands a-swiping;
With every swipe, his sooty block
Went smudging up and striping
The cave-wall, and Rodolphus cried,
“How dare you wreck my home!”
But once the Man had stepped aside,
In vibrant monochrome
The dusky contours struggled out
From cold stone, here and there;
Rodolphus gasped, with paw to snout —
He saw another Bear.
The first man said, “We’ve done it, boys,”
Then flung apart his jaw
And rattled out a rowdy noise
That sounded like, “Ha! Ha!”
And as Rodolphus sat astounded,
A fervor seized the Men —
And towards their several sacks they bounded
To arm themselves — and then —
Their bitter instinct borne beneath —
They pitched a bloody scuff
Against the Bear — their flint, his teeth —
And killed him soon enough.
They ate his flesh! They wore his skin!
They used the Bear in full;
They beat the walls with rib and shin,
Exhibited his skull,
And slept the night inside his lair.
But only Humankind
Could take away the only Bear
And leave a Bear behind!
The end