Bonanza (Beneath the Bench)
Bonanza (Beneath the Bench)
When I think of poems about music, I want to write about a boy lying beneath his mother’s piano.
He stares up into the dark overwhelm of board and sound, his mother’s ankles at the top of his head like another protuberance of ears. He pictures her fingers above the keys, her knuckles as sculpted as St. Sebastian’s musculature–the chiaroscuro of ribs, thighs, endurance. He has seen a painting of St. Sebastian in a book, and a child of the early twentieth century, he has studied it at length.
As the music swells, aches surge through the boy’s heart, the minor tonics filling him with an inarticulate sense of love thwarted, death premature–it must be Chopin that his mother plays–
And then his mind moves to a foot soldier in an eventide of olive drab, and, one finger tapping the other wrist, he imagines himself as hero–humble, destined. Perhaps he’ll even save her.
I’ve snuck this boy from the piano poems of Lawrence and Rilke, though when I picture him in the light and shadow of mahogany furniture, trembling crystal, a coal fire, and the impending cataclysm of World War I, I feel his memories as my own.
Which is impossible, grandiose, for in truth, I am a woman of a much later time, who, as a young girl, had an upright piano (impossible to fit under), so that what I lay beneath was the piano’s tan and shiny bench, and the only reason I lay there was not because my mother played–she didn’t–but to stay up late Sundays, a school night, and to watch, hidden from my parents, the TV just around the bend in the wall.
Bonanza was the show, starring leather-vested Ben and his ranch sons, Hoss, Adam and Little (curly-haired) Joe.
And talk about music! Tumpdada-dadadum-dadadum-dadadum-dadaduuuumdaaaa–there was music that galloped, along with the big-hipped steeds, right through the screen.
By the time my parents noticed me, they’d usually relent, letting me watch to the end from a more unobstructed place where I could jump up whenever the horses dadadummed and gallop along–more or less in place–but with enough bounce to make my long hair flap against my shoulders, imagined reins.
How strange it is, I think now, that it was the horses that I imitated. Then again, I was a mid-twentieth-century girl, not imagined boy, who had just come out of her hiding place.
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I am posting the above “prose poem” for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night, hosted by the incomparable Hedgewitch (Joy Ann Jones.) But this particular poem was actually inspired by Stu McPherson’s “Music” prompt for dVerse’s Poetics challenge of the other day. (Also by two wonderful “piano” poems respectively by D.H. Lawrence and Rainer Maria Rilke.) I urge you to check all out. And, if you are in the mood, also check out my books, 1 Mississippi (children’s counting book with elephants), Going on Somewhere, poetry, and Nose Dive, escapist fun.
PS – the picture is a bit of a joke, not quite my vision of any of the characters here! Also SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG. I really appreciate your reading!
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This entry was posted on May 8, 2012 at 2:03 pm and is filed under poetry, Uncategorized. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments.
Tags: Bonanza memories, can't hide under an upright piano, dVerse Poets Pub open link, elephant playing "baby" grand, Hiding under the bench, manicddaily, mid-twentieth century girl, Piano poem
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ManicDDaily 
May 8, 2012 at 8:16 pm
Now I’m wondering what music sounds like from underneath a grand piano. Fun reading and lovely.
May 8, 2012 at 8:18 pm
Thanks, Yousei. I hate it when things get so long, but I think this moves along quickly enough (hope!) k.
May 8, 2012 at 8:20 pm
I’m learning to love the longer ones. Brendan at Orans Well writes longer poetry and for some reason (maybe because he’s such an exquisite storyteller) I make to the end of every one without yawning once. This was just like that. 🙂
May 8, 2012 at 9:11 pm
Thanks again, Yousei. k.
May 8, 2012 at 8:39 pm
It’s not all that long once you dive in, and I really enjoyed this, Karin. I used to hide under the dining room table(which seemed quite huge) for many childhood rites though not Bonanza–and I watched all the westerns for the horses. A very childlike simplicity and directness makes this charming as well as serious. Thanks also for the links–that may be the first D.H. Lawrence poem I’ve read without an exclamation point, and so very cadenced and clean. And the Rilke of course, especially the last stanza, is magic. Though I’m having a hard time seeing him as a young elephant. :_)
May 8, 2012 at 8:41 pm
Ha! Yes, well, the boy elephant is one of his lesser known songs. K.
May 8, 2012 at 9:34 pm
smiles…an endearing write…it was always special when we got to stay up…one of the earliest times i remember was watching the premeir of the A team…which had its own catchy beats to open up to…i know hte ones from bonanza though…haha…nice build in this from the boy to you as well…
May 8, 2012 at 9:40 pm
Yes – I’m not quite sure why I have the boy part! But there it is. Thanks. k.
May 8, 2012 at 9:46 pm
It did look forbidding at first, in terms of length, but as someone said, when you wade in, the water just flows like a stream. I was caught up in the da-da-dum-da-da-dum-da-da-dum-da-DA-DUM Bonanza theme, and the little girl miming the horses, and every detail of this that you made real for me. Well done.
May 8, 2012 at 9:59 pm
Thanks, Sam.
May 8, 2012 at 10:44 pm
Lovely story, The piano part remind of when my father, and I would watch in wonder similar as this MC. Blessings
http://leah-jamielynn.typepad.com
May 8, 2012 at 10:52 pm
Thanks so much, Leah. k.
May 8, 2012 at 11:09 pm
smiles…i used to hide in a specific spot as well to be able to watch tv unseen from my parents… the piano took me back to my own kids..i used to play when they were doing a lunch nap (so they until today can sleep no matter how loud it is…) or in the evenings..and just lately my daughter said how she loved it when she lay in bed and listened to me playing the piano…though i don’t play very good…but gave them some kind of comfort obviously…smiles
May 8, 2012 at 11:14 pm
Thanks, Claudia — you might like the Lawrence or the Rilke then – they are really very lovely poems about mother playing. k.
May 8, 2012 at 11:10 pm
I smiled at the image of hiding under the bench to watch TV… and then getting caught, but then getting to stay up and watch.This is delightful!
May 8, 2012 at 11:14 pm
Thanks –
May 9, 2012 at 3:24 am
For some reason I thought of Paul Klee, imagined him beneath the piano turning the music into his wonderful watercolours. (He,was a musician also.) Then when I turned back to your pic, I realised that you edged him: he would never have thought of the elephant, his was a different brilliance altogether, but each to his own. With thanks for an inspiring post.
May 9, 2012 at 6:40 am
Ha, thanks, Dave. Klee also played violin, I think. But I could certainly imagine him under a piano! k.
May 9, 2012 at 6:45 am
I really enjoyed the stream of consciosness in this poem. It all flowed so naturally from the boy, whose story took a few bends and turns, to you. This is such a REAL poem, as this is just how it happens when one thought triggers another, triggers another, and in the end one ends up with something related to self. A unique write!
May 9, 2012 at 6:49 am
Thanks so much, Mary.
May 9, 2012 at 8:19 am
I love this, it went straight to my heart, K….as I remember my young son, under a concert grand, with my accompanist booming away, and I wondering the effect on his ears, he was so young and he was so still in the music under all that crushing equipment!
This brought back so many good memories…..and the stream of words were beautiful and hung together like gems on a line.
Thank you, K….for a wonderful travel back in time.
Lady Nyo
May 9, 2012 at 8:28 am
Thanks so much, Lady Nyo. (Were you a singer? I should say — are you!?) You may be very famous even – I’m sorry, I don’t know these things! k.
May 9, 2012 at 8:57 am
LOL! i WAS a singer….a soprano who preferred mezzo voice…LOL!
I did a lot of lieder, and up to about 7 years ago did concerts here in Atlanta. I had a wonderful and dedicated accompanist, Dr. Guy Benian…who could sight read anything. We did a lot of Handel, Italian Art Songs, Brahms, Strauss mostly, but then motherhood and other things got in the way.
It’s a ‘selfish’ life when you have a toddler…and his needs overcame the desire to perform.
After a few years of no rehearsals, no vocal practice, etc….the voice retreats, and you have none. LOL!
I was one who had a big voice early, or so I was pushed…at 16, and by 19 was in the Metropolitan Opera workshops weekly, but it was a horrible move: I was emotionally way too young, just having left Westminster Choir College in Princeton, with all the disruption of early life around me. I crashed and burned, and didn’t return to music until my 40’s. Then for 10 years of intense work, I had a ‘career’. It was intense and fun, but motherhood with all the attendant issues, became more important.
However, now freed of these above responsibilities I am working…slowly, at a badly tuned and strung baby grand….and scaring the cats.
Lady Nyo
May 9, 2012 at 11:25 am
Loved this. Who didn’t watch Bonanza? I don’t think I did from my piano bench, although I could have. I usually curled up on a rug by the fireplace. There is a sweetness and nostalgia that threads through this. I was the one at the piano in my children’s life. I had a little piano then and when they were small I sat them up one on either side of the music stand and played children songs and we all sang them together. I’d forgotten that until I read this. Thank you.
May 9, 2012 at 11:27 am
Thank you, Gay. k.
May 9, 2012 at 12:10 pm
Karin, this hit home for me. In the first 7 years of my life with lived with my grandparents as my dad had died in the war. My grandmother was a concert pianist and she had a grand piano in the living room. I loved to hide underneath it…it was like a cave or den. I love the idea of a prose poem and the subject you chose. Brilliant, as always.
May 9, 2012 at 12:28 pm
Thanks so much, Victoria. So sorry for the loss of your dad, but glad you had the music. Hope all is well. k.
May 10, 2012 at 7:00 am
You were a Bonanza girl!? I never would have guessed. … 🙂 Anyway, your prose piece is simply wonderful. Your re-imagination of the boy under the piano is superb, defining a time and place thru his awareness of himself. Then your juxtaposition of yourself creates an interesting historical disruption that redoubles the time-shift and lets time itself to enter so that we can become of its effects in our lives. The notion of being hidden and then found is something that has profound implications, and I think your poem encapsulates its meaning very beautifully.
May 10, 2012 at 7:06 am
Thanks so much, Charles. Your comments are always more interesting and poetic than MY work! Very kind. k.
May 10, 2012 at 6:19 pm
Very cool!
May 10, 2012 at 6:29 pm
Thanks!
May 11, 2012 at 9:30 am
I love this and the memories it evokes. Ah Bonanza – I used to be madly in love with Adam and used to dream of meeting him…
Missed out on the piano – we only had a Spanish guitar (which I never played) and a mouthorgan – we sang a lot though…
Anna :o]
May 11, 2012 at 12:45 pm
So so sorry for my tardiness …. I really enjoy these narrative pieces- i love how u captured that childish innocence- that sense of wonder- and all wrapped up in some fantastic paragraphs and prose
As the music swells, aches surge through the boy’s heart, the minor tonics filling him with an inarticulate sense of love thwarted, death premature–it must be Chopin that his mother plays–
Beautifully written
May 11, 2012 at 12:50 pm
No, Stu, you are not the least bit tardy! This was done well after your prompt and no visit or comment was required though of course your kind and thoughtful comments are always appreciated. K.