When I was a child my mother did her level best to instill me with a love of literature, especially drama and poetry. In my teenage years I rebelled of course, but the fact remains that as I grew older the power of her influence made itself known. Her efforts bore more fruit than she might ever have imagined.
One of my favorite performances, introduced to me by my mother, is Jose Ferrer in the title role of the 1950 movie ‘Cyrano de Bergerac.’ Based on a play is about the romantic trials of a French swordsman, poet and attendee of the Royal Court, the story line will form the basis for Steve Martin’s movie Roxanne. (Trivia note: Jose Ferrer was the father of Miguel Ferrer who, among other things, played Dr. Garret Macy in ‘Crossing Jordan’.)
In order that the rest of this post might have some context, here is a clip of my favorite scene from the movie…
The other day the poem composed by Cyrano during the duel came to my memory as I sat before my computer bemoaning my current situation (see former posts – tags ‘surgery’, ‘Achilles tendon’) I found myself inspired to attempt a small parody of my own. And so I present for your consideration Dear Reader a humble offering which I entitle…
The Musings of a Gimp after Watching Cyrano De Bergerac
By Dennis Gray
Lightly I walked ‘cross the boards that day
To fasten my work to the backstage wall
Not seeing the black hole that lay in my way
That soon would become the site of my fall.
A snap of a tendon, the slap of my heel,
A shriek of pain and a retching moan.
A shock from my head to my toes I feel,
Then comes a brand new refrain – I’m stuck home!
My foot in a cast, my heart in a sling
I hobble, I stumble, I shuffle, I crawl.
Each day becomes a laborious thing
As each second is marked by the clock on the wall.
A visitor comes! Oh Callooh! Oh Callay!
We talk for a while of the places they roam.
A movie we watch and then – on their way,
And once more the soulful refrain – I’m stuck home!
Outside of my window the traffic flows past
While inside the boredom I try to forestall;
I blog and I email, play hits from the past,
Get beaten in Scrabble by words like ‘quetzal.’
They take me physio – they bend and they stretch
On a modern day rack made of vinyl and chrome.
They say I’m a ‘picture’ – I feel more like a sketch,
Again comes the endless refrain – I’m stuck home!
Dear Friend, think of me, sojourning through trouble
As I ponder a name for this four-wall syndrome
And perhaps you might bring me a large double-double
For yet I still sing the refrain – I’m stuck home!
With apologies to Edmond Rostand, until next time…