An ode to the cosmic imagination of children
A special “thank you” to Valérie Von Haeften, 7 She is the written voice of Piccolo
Text and illustrations copyright ©Le Gour des Dames Editions 2013 R F Bernard asserts the moral right to be identified as the sole author/illustrator of the work. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, phocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Le Gour des Dames Editions.
ISBN 978-0-9568004-3-5
gourdesdames@yahoo.com www.gourdesdames.com
The Sea Prince RF. Bernard
Wrapped in fleece A little prince Was born in Oslo In the name of
Tides come high and tides go low on the shores of Oslo
When the king of the archipelago Came to visit his son Piccolo, He was full of bravado
“CONQUER! CONQUER! CONQUER! My son and heir”
“BEAT THE DRAGON IN HIS LAIR!”
“ANSWER RIDDLES AND BE FAIR!”
“BUILD YOUR EMPIRE AND NEVER TIRE!!”
Thunder was busy rumbling over the ocean Wasn’t that more thrilling than any lesson?
Piccolo set his eyes on the horizon
There he saw a flock of geese flying fast Like a pointed arrow piercing the sky
And when they were lost
to sight‌
His twin brothers from far away Came galloping off across the bay
“If you want to rule the waves,” said the brothers in their horsey way
“Raise an army”
“Know your enemy”
“Fight from dusk to dawn, And then contemplate what you own�
repeated Piccolo gently rocking in his barco
He then sailed off into the sea To the one person he loved to see
His siren sister from her kingdom underwater gave the most tender warning
Piccolo, my mini darling‌ When for a princess your heart will bleed It is not an army that you will need But both kindness and heed�
whispered Piccolo
Admiring Dolphin his true amigo
Piccolo jumped into the sea Deeply intent on learning to swim
Back beach Backon on the the sandy sandy beach Piccolo yet another anothermusic music Piccolo faced faced yet
His Mother Moon Both shadow and light Appeared in the starry night “My son and prince Piccolo, here is my motto: “if it’s for freedom that your yearn…”
“Read,”
“Write,”
“And learn”
Piccolo carried his pile of books to one of his secret nooks
whispered the
prince to the princely breeze
The pages swirled the books ballooned Like sails blown in the full moon
Up they spiraled far far away To their home in the milky way
Piccolo fell fast asleep His day had been full and complete More than a Prince he was a child Who kept his dreams vast and wild
Some children are poets. Not that they write poetry, no. They just attune their heart to the endless rumbling sound of the ocean waves‌