Bean Jack and Seven Princesses

by Deana Chadwell    1/24/14

Disney
didn’t tell the whole truth;
the seven princesses may not
have lived so happily
after all.

Snow White, once kissed by her prince,
fought off a doozey of a hangover,
and rode off into the black forest with him,
having no idea
that he’d change his mind
and dump her not a furlong
from the witch’s hut.

Bean Jack found her
climbing and crying her way
up his first stalk,
and of course,
rushed to her rescue.

Cinderella got tired of those
glass slippers — the blisters were terrible.
She took to padding
around the castle barefoot,
but, alas, not pregnant.
She didn’t see enough
of Charming for that.

But she met a guy in a chat room
who, having seen things from
a new, beanstalk-high perspective,
wrote her beautiful pumpkin poetry
and gave the mice a bean
to plant beneath her turret.

Sleeping Beauty got suspicious
every time her prince
suggested she go take a nap.
Imagine her excitement
when one afternoon, unable to sleep,
and staring out the arrow-slit window,
she watched a bean stalk shoot up
the tower past her 12th floor room.

Freedom and adventure called her name,
and, having caught more Z’s
than she was ever be likely to need,
she gathered up her silk skirts, and
scrambled out
onto her future.

Rapunzel started having headaches.

Jasmine wanted to fly higher than
those dusty carpets could handle.

Beauty decided that appearances
were a lot more telling
than she had been led to believe.

The Mermaid found that legs weren’t
all they were cracked up to be,
and neither was her prince.

Then along came Jack,
who had scruffy hair and a dimple
on his left cheek,
and took them for the ride
of their previously-pampered lives.

You see,
Bean Jack had an advantage
over those prissy princes
in their velvet knickers.
Bean Jack had magic beans;
the GQ guys just had
looks, clothes, coaches, balls,
realms, titles, servants, doubloons, moats —
all the trappings — this is true.

But have you ever ridden a bean stalk
as it pierced the clouds and made all
the neighborhood chateaus look like
refrigerator magnets?

And Bean Jack could wrap
his strong arms around you
and hold you safe, as the leaf
beneath your feet breaks the bean barrier
and the air thins to nothing.

The princes had made them princesses, but
only Bean Jack could give them the sky.

Unfortunately,
there were seven princesses
and a giant,
and no one’s been up there lately,
so we have no idea which princess, if any, lived

happily
or
ever after.

__________________________________________________
Have a poem, short story, or bit of prose you want to share? Click here. • (860 views)

Share
Deana Chadwell

About Deana Chadwell

I have spent my life teaching young people how to read and write and appreciate the wonder of words. I have worked with high school students and currently teach writing at Pacific Bible College in southern Oregon. I have spent more than forty years studying the Bible, theology, and apologetics and that finds its way into my writing whether I’m blogging about my experiences or my opinions. I have two and a half moldering novels, stacks of essays, hundreds of poems, some which have won state and national prizes. All that writing — and more keeps popping up — needs a home with a big plate glass window; it needs air; it needs a conversation.
I am also an artist who works with cloth, yarn, beads, gourds, polymer clay, paint, and photography. And I make soap.

This entry was posted in Poetry/Prose. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Bean Jack and Seven Princesses

  1. Timothy Lane says:

    An amusing variation. Sounds a bit like someone’s been listening to some Stephen Sondheim. I might add that a fantasy writer (John Moore) once wrote a book (Slay and Rescue, as I recall) about the manifold adventures of Prince Charming as he went about on his rescue missions. They certainly couldn’t all have lived happily ever after with him.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *