[Glenn Wright]

The model of Mainz Cathedral made by John Merrick (Source: Flickr Photos)
https://images.app.goo.gl/dZJ166qyHzsDU7JF7

Version 2

The Paper Cathedral

In the basement of a hospital
the Elephant Man resides,
assembling little bits of paper
by the light of a single taper,
making a golden cathedral
in the refuge where he hides.

His normal hand can do the task,
gluing each tiny piece.
His other hand, of useless shape,
reminds him there is no escape.
No cure, no human-looking mask
can make his anguish cease.

He honors his Maker. He must believe
God loves him with his flaws.
Like God’s, his face must not be seen,
too terrible without a screen.
Making beauty, he need not grieve.
For a time, his pain withdraws.
————————-
Edits:
S3L3: Like God, his face must not be seen, > Like God’s, his face must not be seen,


Version 1

The Paper Cathedral

In the basement of a hospital
The Elephant Man resides,
assembling little bits of paper
by the light of a single taper,
making something beautiful
in the refuge where he hides.

His normal hand can do the task,
gluing each tiny piece.
His other hand, of useless shape,
reminds him there is no escape.
No cure, no human-looking mask
can make his anguish cease.

More hideous than Caliban
but such a gentle soul,
He glorifies his unseen God.
Fighting sleep, he starts to nod,
unable to lie like a well-formed man,
his head too big to control.

Upon the table where he labors
a gold cathedral gleams.
His lovely work has such finesse;
his tortured spirit will express
his longing for friends and neighbors,
and the lady who haunts his dreams.

He honors his Maker. He must believe
God loves him with his flaws.
Like his, God’s face must not be seen,
too terrible without a screen.
Now, asleep, he need not grieve,
his misery withdraws.

Wanting only to be free,
one night he lays down his head.
He wonders why God chose him for
the vessel into which He’d pour
this torment. In the morning he
lies lifeless on his bed.

[Paula Fernandez]

Glenn--

I feel like this poem was as hard to piece together as the paper cathedral. It just never achieves lift-off for me. Perhaps it is too literally a retelling of this story without the author giving some new perspective or meaning. I felt sadness, yes, but no more so than when I read the wiki on the same topic. The only moment I thought it might get lift was when you compare his face to God's--"too terrible without a screen".

I suppose, also, you've played him very straight--devout to the end, ennobled by his work--and I feel the real story is how someone in that situation would certainly, at least, question, cry out, rebel, consider suicide.

There are also metrical irregularities which others are more qualified to point out. But really, I think this needs some consideration of what you want the reader to feel and what you bring to this story. If you're looking for a devotional piece, I'm afraid I'm not able to go along.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Paula—

Thanks for your honest response. I’m not happy with it either—especially the third, fourth, and sixth stanzas. I have always found this story profoundly moving. All of the literature I have read about Joseph (or in some versions, John) Merrick has agreed that he remained a devout believer until his death, although there are many uncertainties about him, including his name and whether his death was accidental or suicide. It was his devotion to God that fascinated me most, and that is what I was trying to explore (not very successfully) in this piece. I chose the cardboard model of the Mainz Cathedral that he made for Madge Kendal as a representation of his faith, his desire for companionship, and his thirst for beauty. I did not intend this primarily as a devotional piece, but rather as a tribute to a great soul tormented by unbearable disabilities. I also wanted Merrick’s story to serve as an allegory for the creative process in which artists, flawed and tormented, dedicate themselves to the creation of sublime, transcendent beauty. Your advice to consider more carefully what I want the reader to feel and what I bring to the story that is new is very astute. Stories of this type are always in danger of descending into melodrama or bathos unless they are able to offer more than a mere rehearsal of events. Thanks again for weighing in!

Glenn

[Carl Copeland]

Hi, Glenn. Does this form have a name, or did you invent it? The rhyme scheme is dominated by the couplets, and the other rhymes are too far apart for my ear. The alternation of ballad meter with tetrameter is interesting, but I get an anomalous trimeter in S1L4 and S4L5.

I agree with Paula about the couplet in S5 and wished for a few more unusual insights like that one. His thoughts as he went to sleep are also interesting, but I still found the ending both abrupt and obvious: one night he lay down his head and died.

It is a moving story.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Carl—

Thanks for the comments! This is my own verse form, inspired by the trenta-sei, but without the lines of the first sextet repeated as the first line on subsequent stanzas, with tetrameter except in lines 2 and 6, which are trimeter, and with the rhyme scheme ABCCAB instead of ABABCC. I appreciated your pointing out that the A and B rhymes were too far apart to strike your ear.

I’m going to try some radical amputations to see if anything can be salvaged.

Glenn

[mignon ledgard]

Glenn,

The Paper Cathedral

In the basement of a hospital
The Elephant Man resides,
assembling little bits of paper
by the light of a single taper,
making something beautiful
in the refuge where he hides.

It’s a great introduction. I might keep it in italics and have the poem happen in first person — the main character as narrator. It would make it show more than tell — the reader sneaks in and is able to see and hear his difficulties and his sorrows, as well as his accomplishments and faith. The way stories develop on films or onstage.

There could still be a brief closing also in italics, as a note — to make it clear that he didn’t wake up? As you envision it. — I’m strolling dovvn a parallel avenue, sort of? It’s a vvonderful story.

Thanks for sharing your process—
it’s a privilege I don’t take for granted.
~mignon

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, mignon—

Thanks for responding! I like your idea of moving to a different point-of-view. The poem never really takes off and might just need a different direction and some tightening. The ending is particularly weak. I might also try mixing metrical and non-metrical stanzas. I think the present verse form, repeated over six stanzas, is too limiting.

I want to somehow highlight the fact that Merrick was half normal and half deformed, and that these two parts of him were struggling for his soul.

Thanks again for your insights!

Glenn

[David Callin]

Originally Posted by Glenn Wright

I’m not happy with it either—especially the third, fourth, and sixth stanzas.

Well, losing those would leave you with this ...

In the basement of a hospital
The Elephant Man resides,
assembling little bits of paper
by the light of a single taper,
making something beautiful
in the refuge where he hides.

His normal hand can do the task,
gluing each tiny piece.
His other hand, of useless shape,
reminds him there is no escape.
No cure, no human-looking mask
can make his anguish cease.

He honors his Maker. He must believe
God loves him with his flaws.
Like his, God’s face must not be seen,
too terrible without a screen.
Now, asleep, he need not grieve,
his misery withdraws.

I think, if you could do something slightly different with the final couplets of the second and third verses there, things might start to look much better.

Cheers

David

[mignon ledgard]

Originally Posted by David Callin

Well, losing those would leave you with this ...

In the basement of a hospital
The Elephant Man resides,
assembling little bits of paper
by the light of a single taper,
making something beautiful
in the refuge where he hides.

His normal hand can do the task,
gluing each tiny piece.
His other hand, of useless shape,
reminds him there is no escape.
No cure, no human-looking mask
can make his anguish cease.

He honors his Maker. He must believe
God loves him with his flaws.
Like his, God’s face must not be seen,
too terrible without a screen.
Now, asleep, he need not grieve,
his misery withdraws.

I think, if you could do something slightly different with the final couplets of the second and third verses there, things might start to look much better.

Cheers

David

AHA!
To which I add AHA AHA AHA! (The system said AHA was too short to post.)
~m

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, David and mignon—

I cut 50% of the poem and focused tightly on the scene of Merrick making the cardboard model of the cathedral, assuming that the reader was familiar with the general outline of his story. I like it much better. It seems less maudlin and perhaps even more hopeful. Thanks for the good advice!

Glenn