The Tale Of Sophia Renee

Copperfox

Well-known member

There's a story remembered in fragments
By Scotsmen who live near the Tay,
Of a Scot who found work down in England,
A man from the Clan of MacBrae.
He had no luck with women in Scotland,
But long after he had left home,
It's been said that he found love in England;
So I'll tell as much as is known....

In the old days of horrid asylums
Where mad folk were left to decay,
A mad wench named Maureen bore a daughter,
And called her Sophia Renee.
She at least had some care in the madhouse,
Far better than out on the street;
She was spared from the worst of the beatings,
And most days, had something to eat.

An old inmate whom others called Auntie
Taught her how to talk and to play,
But to read books was out of the question
For little Sophia Renee.
All her world was this putrid asylum;
Small windows gave hints of the sky.
Fellow loonies were added at random;
The only way out was to die.

When Sophia somehow grew up lovely,
By miracles wondrous to say,
She was never abused very greatly;
God pitied Sophia Renee.
But God's pity was not in a hurry
To let her escape to the world;
She was old enough to have been courted
The night the asylum was burned.

Though the doctor in charge could not answer
How sparks from a fire went astray,
To his credit, he rescued the inmates,
Including Sophia Renee.
As he pushed the last one out to safety,
The rooftop caved in, and he died;
As the doctor was meeting his Maker,
The inmates went pouring outside.

Not one record survived as a witness
Of why they had been put away;
But the loonies knew not what to do now,
Except for Sophia Renee.
She remembered how Auntie had told her
About the wide river so near;
Catching sight of it, gleaming from firelight,
She headed for it without fear.



TO BE CONTINUED....
 
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This is promising stuff, please continue
I impatiently await your reply
As you tackle this marvy new venue
I feel myself starting to weep

:D
 
I love poems/stories that are set up like this. You have an amazing talent Papa Joe, being able to write like this. Though I might be a little biased like a doting young granddaughter. :)
 
She'd have been too sun-blinded to see it,
If all this had happened by day;
But the outdoors by night would not dazzle
The eyes of Sophia Renee.
With a hunger to find something cleaner
Than walls that had once been around,
She made haste right into the wide river,
And but for God's grace, would have drowned.

But a boatman, with Christian name Duncan,
Still sturdy, though weathered and gray,
Had unloaded his passengers elsewhere,
Then spotted Sophia Renee.
All the accidents common to rivers
Were sadly well-known to this man;
He went on the alert when he spotted
The maiden's descent on the sand.

He had already seen the flames leaping;
He knew what was over that way,
So he had a good guess of the nature
Of unknown Sophia Renee.
And the guess left him dreadfully certain
She could not have learned how to swim,
Nor would she understand her own peril;
This called for quick action by him.

Pulling oars with more vigor than sportsmen
From Oxford would ever display,
Duncan covered the distance that meant life
Or death for Sophia Renee.
She was up to her waist in the water,
Unsure if her body would float,
When the Scotsman pulled up, and she giggled,
Exclaiming, "Is that a real boat?"



TO BE CONTINUED

(c) Joseph Richard Ravitts
 
"Aye, it's my bonny boat, little lassie;
Now get ye ashore straightaway!"
He was trying to judge if he ought to
Grab hold of Sophia Renee.
But an impulse of hers ended thinking:
Arms reaching, she playfully lunged.
Not expecting this, Duncan was capsized,
And into the stream they both plunged.

Learning fear a bit late, the girl struggled,
While Duncan had no time to pray;
But he had time to choose which to rescue--
His boat, or Sophia Renee.
Notwithstanding the tales told of Scotsmen,
This one lived for Christ, not for cash;
While his livelihood slipped into darkness,
He snatched her from death with a splash.

Duncan's face went beet-red, feeling just where
His right hand had happened to stray;
Shifting grip, he more properly handled
The rescued Sophia Renee.
But she showed neither anger nor coyness,
Too busy regaining her breath.
So the Scot could at last think of money,
Now that he had frustrated death.

For the sake of the girl, Duncan swallowed
The curses he wanted to say,
Shook the water away from his raincoat,
And wrapped up Sophia Renee.
"Harken, lass, I must busk me downriver,
In hopes that my boat I'll retrieve;
Ye can choose, but ye'll have to choose quickly:
Do you wish to join me, or leave?"


TO BE CONTINUED--which will remain applicable until you see "THE END"
 
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Umbrella, the idea for this poem sprang into my head just last night, at a time when some interesting stuff had been going on. And since I could never refuse any halfway reasonable request from you, I have scrambled to write some more.

Bruiser, since you're going to be on vacation, I'll make sure to space out future portions to avoid finishing too soon, so that the thread will not have sunk out of sight before you come home.

==============================================


"There's no place to go back to," she answered,
Her face turning pale now as clay.
Then she asked, "What's your name?" He said, "Duncan."
She said, "I'm Sophia Renee."
"Can ye run, lass?--Oh, blast it, ye're barefoot!
I doubt ye can go fast enough."
But Sophia said, "I never had shoes;
I promise, my bare soles are tough!"

Guessing wisely what might happen to her
Outdoors if he left her this way,
Duncan gave her his hand and said, "Prove it:
Run with me, Sophia Renee!"
Since he knew the best ways through the city,
Avoiding the dangerous paths,
They made progress, till he could no longer
Not hear how she breathed in hard gasps.

"Ye poor lass, there in Bedlam they never
Trained you to be running this way.
Ye need shelter; I say, were ye ever
In kirk, young Sophia Renee?"
"You mean church?" said the girl. "I've heard of it--
A place where they hate everyone!"
"Ye heard wrongly, my lass," he assured her;
"There's only one thing to be done...."



(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
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I think I'm going to sit silent and watch from now on. It gives me this strange feeling and in the future I dont' want to interupt what's going on. And that's amazing for sometihng that's been thought of the night before. It reminds me of Alice in Wonderland for some reason.
 
Dearest Copperfox, you know that you don't have to post around my being able to get on. I do hope that I'll be able to get on Tuesday of next week to catch up on some things here, but I can not make any promises.

I think that I am understanding this narritive poem a lot better now. For you to just be writing this from a thought last night is amazing.
 
I have been asked via private channels whether I am spontaneously making this up as I go along. Only partly so. Before I began writing, I formed a plotline in my head, mentally tried out some sample rhymes, and considered whether I would be able to keep up the device of repeating Sophia's name in the first half of each stanza. So far I'm managing.

The next entry will be my last for awhile, though I estimate that the story is less than half done. I'm going to go eat after this; I've already missed breakfast again, and someone who cares at least a little bit about my welfare once cautioned me about skipping meals. (A few skipped meals, on the other hand, help reduce my pot belly.)

=========================================


At the Salvation Army street mission,
Alone there and kneeling to pray,
Captain Martha heard when Duncan entered,
And brought in Sophia Renee.
Martha already knew the asylum
Had burned, and her colleagues were there;
She herself was too old to be much help,
So she had been offering prayer.

"Is that one of the inmates from Bedlam?"
"Aye, Captain, 'tis just as ye say,
Though she has not the look of a wild thing;
Her name is Sophia Renee.
Since by mercy I lost not my wallet,
Some shillings to help I can give;
At least find her some food and some clothing;
Ye ken she has nay place to live."

Knowing Duncan, the Captain well knew that
He was not the sort to betray
Or abuse any girl, so she just said,
"God bless you, Sophia Renee!
Now I see that you're soaking wet, brother;
You might want to find some dry pants--?"
"Canna tarry," he said, agitated,
"Or my boat will end up in France."

Pushing back irritation, and pausing,
He had something gentler to say
To the girl: "Hae no fear o' this lady;
She'll help ye, Sophia Renee.
And if all turns out well, or it doesn't,
With boat or without it, I'll come
When I can, to see how ye be faring,
And think upon what's to be done."



(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
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Accually, believe it or not, it had been said that skipping meals is worse than eating. Plus eating one big meal is worse than eating three smaller meals.
I hope you have a plesant lunch Papa Joe. :)
 
It was pleasant. But when I skip a meal, by design or chance, I _almost_ never double the amount next mealtime, I eat a lesser total of food for the day. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to decide if Duncan ever gets his boat back. "No good deed goes unpunished;" but I'm unsure whether I want Duncan punished _that_ much. Also, I haven't decided yet whether to give his last name.
 
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Disclaimer Time!

In the modern view of literature, EVERYTHING is autobiographical. If I wrote about a space alien shaped like an octopus, modern interpretation would insist that at some time in my life, I had either met a space alien shaped like an octopus, or been one myself, or wished that I were one because I had so much work I could use more arms. Mr. Lewis would side with me against the automatic assumption of autobiography; he believed that a story had a life and a value of its own.

I wanted to get this disclaimer said before continuing, because the story is going to get more intense emotionally for Duncan, who everyone will be assuming "is" me. Official statement: NO ONE in this tale is an exact point-for-point cloned duplicate of me or anyone else. Yes, the story has SOME relationship to things I have experienced; but anyone saying, "Okay, specifically this is what Joseph says happened to him, and here he's telling us his exact opinion of such-and-such person," will be mistaken and will mislead others. I know to what extent my life is and is not reflected here; don't forget that there are still many events in my life that no one on this forum has ever been told. So just accept the story as a story.

In case anyone was confused: at the time of her escape from the burning asylum, Sophia is (1) old enough to be married, and (2) not genuinely insane or incapable of logical thought, only deprived of education and meaningful experiences. Expecting her to behave in conventional ways, when she is barely an hour out of Bedlam, would be like expecting her to play a musical instrument perfectly the first time she ever even saw one in her life. If you must think of her as "being" someone, think of River Tan in "Firefly," only with no super-powers at all.
___________________________________________


Fire brigades were still at the asylum,
The bodiless dragon to slay,
While the boatman, still chasing his lost boat,
Still thought of Sophia Renee.
He had not touched her _there_ by intention;
He knew that God knew this was true.
But he now had to try not to dwell on
What touching made him wish to do.

Duncan had not a wife or a sweetheart
To brighten the end of each day;
It embarrassed him what he was starting
To feel for Sophia Renee.
Not that Duncan would ever have lusted
To take her dishonorably,
Nor had she ever meant to entice him;
But Duncan was human, you see.

Coming off of a bridge was a horse-cab,
Drawn by a magnificent bay;
Duncan recognized it, and it led off
His thoughts from Sophia Renee.
Carl the cabbie owed Duncan a favor,
And now was the time to collect.
Soon their speed was outrunning the river,
To learn if the boat had been wrecked.


___________________________________________

I have not been making visible section breaks, except insofar as the natural separation of posts makes divisions; but here there is a definite break because I have to change viewpoint, back to my heroine. If I stayed with Duncan any longer, it would start getting REALLY forced and artificial to continue repeating Sophia's name in every stanza; but once the scene is back with her and Martha, it should come naturally.
 
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Since you are not hearing me recite this, let me stress that I am being very scrupulous about syllables and meter. In _every_ even-numbered line, with no exceptions, the first strong beat is on the _second_ syllable of the line, never the first or the third. Thus, for example, think of the line "Nobody will rob you of this" as saying "No-BO-dy" rather than "NO-body." In odd-numbered lines, the _third_ syllable has the first strong beat, e.g. "Don't keep GLAN-cing..."


At the mission, providing a dry dress
Which fit her, though dreary and gray,
Captain Martha fed kippers and rye bread
To hungry Sophia Renee.
"Don't keep glancing around, my sweet urchin;
Nobody will rob you of this."
Reassuringly, then, the old woman
Bestowed on her forehead a kiss.

With a smile, the girl said, "Auntie did that,
Back where she and I used to stay!
Does that mean you're the Auntie in this place?"
"I guess so, Sophia Renee."
Captain Martha, not hurrying, drew out
All that the young woman would tell
Of her life in the dungeon of loonies,
A moderate version of H-ll.

Martha offered to let the girl sleep on
A mattress well stuffed with clean hay;
But the thrill of a new world was keeping
All sleep from Sophia Renee.
By her questions, the girl showed the Captain
There still was a brain in her head.
Then Sophia said, "What is this picture?"
--It showed Jesus raised from the dead.

This was not the first time Captain Martha
Had dealt with someone's naivete'.
"That's a picture of Jesus, my best friend,
Yours also, Sophia Renee."
"Did He live in the men's half?" the girl said.
"I never saw Him over there!"
"No, His house is much farther away, dear,
But He visits folks everywhere."

"Do you mean He's a boatman like Duncan?"
The Captain replied, "In a way;
And He did something for you like Duncan,
To save you, Sophia Renee.
Long ago, everybody in England,
And everyplace else, had got lost;
Jesus came rowing up just to help us,
Although it cost Him a great cost."



(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
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Oh how I now love the name Sophia Renee!

Bravo, Uncle Joe. Bravo.

You kept me on the edge with every stanza and I love the overall tone and themes that are found in your poem.

Maybe I somehow missed it but, is Duncan around the same age as Sophia Renee?
 
No, Duncan is enough older than Sophia that this, as much as anything else, is why he was embarrassed to have accidentally laid a hand on her mammary protruberance. I have not settled on his exact age, nor on whether he is a widower or just never found a wife in the first place, precisely because I _don't_ want the reader to think of Duncan as just plain _being_ me.

Now, in thanks for the kind words from Professor Tiff, another segment:


Captain Martha went on, till Sophia
Could no longer hold sleep at bay,
Then she helped the girl onto the mattress;
"Good night, sweet Sophia Renee."
Soon the other Salvationists came back
With four other female inmates,
And a constable just to keep order;
So Martha found each one a place.

When the cop asked about young Sophia,
The Captain felt guided to say,
"She's an orphan who lives at the mission;
We call her Sophia Renee."
Martha purposely said this too softly
For those other inmates to pry,
And arranged that the sleeping Sophia
Was hid from each madwoman's eye.
 
It'll be interesting to see what age you do decide to settle for.

I really found myself in a bliss while reading your poem. Just in my own little world, imagining these characters coming to life in my head. I found myself smiling when I was done reading it.

I'll definitely be looking forward for your daily updates! :)
 
Well, considering shorter average life expectancy in the Victorian Era: until further notice, let's conjecture that Duncan is 41 and Sophia is 20.


Come the morning, Sophia stayed hidden
Till others were taken away.
As she asked about Duncan, she heard him
Shout, "Mornin', Sophia Renee!"
Now, if one touch had upset the boatman,
It would be still worse, you'd expect,
When she covered his face with warm kisses,
Her arms tightly clasping his neck.

But because it was she who began this,
Not his hand by chance gone astray,
He did not feel that he was offending
When kissed by Sophia Renee.
Still, he didn't prolong the embracing,
Nor kiss her on face or on throat,
But went on to explain to all present
That he had recovered his boat.

"Neither stolen nor stove in, thank Heaven,
Though I'll need some new oars today..."
"I'm so sorry, dear Duncan, it's my fault!"
Put in young Sophia Renee.
"Hush there, lass," Duncan said; "I don't blame ye;
I blame those wha' kept ye in bonds.
Maybe one day I'll take you a-boating
On one of the safe little ponds."

This brought on still more hugging and kissing,
With Duncan somewhat in dismay;
But a worse thing, though quite unintended,
Was done by Sophia Renee.
In her onslaught of love, clutching at him
As if he were her very life,
It was her hand that now found the wrong thing--
In this case, a long-bladed knife.



(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
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