The Poultry Paladin Stanza V Canto I

(Note: along with the epic, you’ll get lessons on the epic form! Aren’t you lucky that the author of this blog is a pote AND a teacher as well? You’ll learn so much!

So Stanza V answers the epic question: what is the central happening of this story? Who is the hero? What is the main action that is coming?)

Dishonor and defeat was not in their destiny;

Legend foretold of a half-god, half-hero

Who’d swoop in and declare, “Leave the whole mess to me!”

Brave as was Caesar and crazy as Nero,

Sprung from the bowels of Olympian deities,

Given to drinking debauchery, gaiety.

(Stay tuned for Stanza VI, which is the Invocation to the Muse, something that no true epic can exist without!)

The Poultry Paladin Stanza IV Canto I

Anyway, here is Stanza IV of Canto I of The Poultry Paladin

Now that the fantastic tale’s over and done with

To ask some questions does not seem precocious.

How did these chickens gain the stature of myth?

How did they learn to be fighters ferocious?

Hear now the story of infamous chickens

who gave new meaning to “Mmm…finger-lickin’!”

The Poultry Paladin Epic cont’d

Dear reader,

It has been a while since I have posted any poetry, so I thought that I would post one more stanza of the ongoing epic called The Poultry Paladin or The Chicken Chevalier.

For the first two stanzas, please look at the menu on the left, and you will see “The Poultry Paladin” (if you have tuned in late). I’m following the epic conventions, so right now, I’m just setting up the story. More to come in the weeks ahead!

Canto I, Stanza III

This secret weapon was taught to them early,

Not something they found in their fowl genetics.

Nay, they did follow their champion so burly,

Meeting at first with success just frenetic.

Practicing, training, and striving sincerely,

Enemies they learned to find and mince early.

The Poultry Paladin, Canto I, Stanza I

The Poultry Paladin, Canto I, Stanza I

History falls, and it rises again high

We mortals so often miss the importance–

We are born, we live our lives, and then we die,

Scarcely a thought goes into our minds hence.

Once in a while an event we must notice

‘Fore we fall into the permanent abyss.

Canto I, Stanza II

Legends are told of a band of brave pullets

Whose prowess in warfare is second to none.

These wondrous chickens had no need of bullets

Or external weapons, like dagger or gun.

One weapon of mass destruction lay hidden,

Never to surface unless it was bidden.

To be continued…

All text here, and full text of The Poultry Paladin/The Chicken Chevalier copyright 2010 Kavita Salvado daRocha. Do not reproduce in any form except for private, personal enjoyment without proper citation. Do not reproduce for public use without express written consent of the poet.

The Poultry Paladin: Prefatory Letter

My dear one reader,

I realize that I’ve been posting many times a day. This pace will not last forever (I hope). I am merely trying to establish myself in all the ways that I can online, and this category is one method. It is also an homage to a person I admire very much, who, because of the nature of his work (and his pride), must remain anonymous, but who knows who he is.

Let me back up. I am writing an epic, or, should I say, a mock epic in the tradition of Pope’s The Rape of the Lock. However, I must here write the disclaimer: I’m not as good a pote as Pope, so it’s not as good. However, I am doing my best to write it in the Homeric tradition, with complete invocation to the Muse, intervention by supernatural beings, and all the other epic conventions that exist to make potes’ lives miserable. (I must use my English degree for something!)

Now, Homeric epics were traditionally written in a meter called “dactylic hexameter,” and I won’t bore you with the details, but I’ve done my best to write each stanza in this meter, with a substituted spondee (a stressed syllable) at the end. I also have structured each stanza in an altered “chant royal” form: the rhyme scheme is ABABCC. It would have been a proper chant royal, except I forgot one line. It should be ABABBCC, but I consistently forgot the third B, and, by the time I discovered it, I was already about 18 stanzas into it, so I just decided to forget it and go on. Already excuses, excuses.

I have made the discovery, though, that I, accustomed to English and not ancient Greek, am having a devil of a time maintaining the dactylic hexameter, so I’ve pretty much decided to go to the English catch-all: iambic pentameter. (Think of Shakespeare, and you’ll have the right rhythm.) I know it’s a sort of defeat, but if I stay with that blasted dactylic hexameter, I’ll never write the bloody thing. So I’ll make it a bit easier on myself and increase the chances of finishing it by writing it in a meter that I can actually think in. I’ve completed 24 stanzas (all written by hand in an Apica 6B5 notebook, with lovely thin rule…perhaps I’ll include a photo of one of the pages so that you can get a taste of the authentic magical process of creation), and I will continue to work on it over the months and years until I finish it.

Therefore, I present to you, serialized, stanza by stanza (whenever I can write a few), The Poultry Paladin, or The Chicken Chevalier (I haven’t decided on the real title yet), starring Nunchik, a nunchuk-wielding chicken in the main role. (Picture forthcoming.) Check back once in a while, as I will be adding to the epic as I can.

And this is for you, Commander Bob. You are the ideal warrior, and I thank you for teaching me how to never be a victim again.