Poets corner now open

[Gary]

We have had a few requests for one and I know we have a couple of poets on the forum - so now is your big chance to spread your words of wisdom to the world.

Happy posting!

 

[ 24.07.2006, 16:24: Message edited by: Gary ]

[Mary]

Ahhh now to make a poem that would be apropos. Thanks Gary!

[sadako]

Wow, I only just noticed the new section...where have I been in the last month???? I have missed loads

[Steve the Original]

Sadako

That will teach you!!

 

Steve

[sadako]

HEY! I have 2 jobs

[Steve the Original]

I would do but i lost your tel number!!!!!!!

 

 

Steve

[bobshaw235]

I know some poetry from the rugby club,about ladies fron nuntucket and boys on burning bridges if i can remember them i will post them for the poets amonst us.

[sadako]

I don't recall giving you my number

[Steve the Original]

Sadakko

 

Its old age its getting to you now your forgetting things!!

 

 

Steve

[sadako]

I did not give you my mumber...I'm not that stupid lol...maybe it was wishful thinking?

[Peter T]

What's a mumber?

Is this some secret thing you and Steve have going?

Does Andyk know?

[Mary]

Peter maybe its a cross between a mumble and a number?

[Peter T]

Bit like a secret society?

[Mary]

Possibly!

[Jerry]

bobshaw, please refresh my memory about the lady from nantucket, who did something with a bucket? And the boy on the burning deck -- was that the one who answers -boy, you are wounded! Nay,I'm killed sire, and smiling the boy fell dead. ???

 

[ 09.09.2006, 03:39: Message edited by: jerry ]

[Evil Sid]

do you mean this one?

 

casabianca

 

 

The boy stood on the burning deck

Whence all but he had fled;

The flame that lit the battle's wreck

Shone round him o'er the dead.

 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,

As born to rule the storm;

A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though childlike form.

 

The flames roll'd on...he would not go

Without his father's word;

That father, faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.

 

He call'd aloud..."Say, father,say

If yet my task is done!"

He knew not that the chieftain lay

Unconscious of his son.

 

"Speak, father!" once again her cried

"If I may yet be gone!"

And but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames roll'd on.

 

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair,

And looked from that lone post of death,

In still yet brave despair;

 

And shouted but one more aloud,

"My father, must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud

The wreathing fires made way,

 

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,

And stream'd above the gallant child,

Like banners in the sky.

 

There came a burst of thunder sound...

The boy-oh! where was he?

Ask of the winds that far around

With fragments strewed the sea.

 

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,

That well had borne their part;

But the noblest thing which perished there

Was that young faithful heart.

 

Author: Mrs. Hemans

[Jerry]

Thanks Evil S. I'd never heard that enigmatic story before. The way I heered it was something like a cabin boy or a young raw recruit brings a message to the captain while the ship is under enemy fire. But maybe no burning deck was involved. Or maybe the poem you posted is someone's effort to enoble that boy... why must I have this terribly high tolerance for ambiguity?

[Evil Sid]

found that one after a quick search may be other versions i do not know.most people only remember the rugby club versions involving scollops

[Jerry]

 

 

[ 11.09.2006, 22:50: Message edited by: jerry ]

[Jerry]

Thanks, Evil S. I had forgotten how Google can take a poetry line and give you the reference, so I put in the line, and it came back Robert Browning (pretty fair poet, eh, wot?)called Incident in the French Camp, and Napoleon.

 

Somehow I had transposed that line in my mind to Lord Nelson and a burning ship. Getting dotty. (sigh)

[Jerry]

And then I looked up a poem that I'd lost for years, thinking it was by a different person, and using the author's name to find. It's also about an incident during war time.

 

Pershing at the Front

by Arthur Guiterman

1871-1943, written in 1915

 

The General came in a new tin hat

To the shell-torn front where the war was at;

With a faithful Aide at his good right hand

He made his way toward No Man?s Land,

And a tough Top Sergeant there they found,

And a Captain, too, to show them round.

 

Threading the ditch, their heads bent low,

Toward the lines of the watchful foe

They came through the murk and the powder stench

Till the Sergeant whispered, ?Third-line trench!?

And the Captain whispered, ?Third-line trench!?

And the Aide repeated, ?Third-line trench!?

And Pershing answered- not in French-

?Yes, I see it. Third-line trench.?

 

Again they marched with wary tread,

Following on where the Sergeant led

Through the wet and the muck as well,

Till they came to another parallel.

They halted there in the mud and drench,

And the Sergeant whispered, ?Second-line trench!?

And the Captain whispered, ?Second-line trench!?

And the Aide repeated, ?Second-line trench!?

And Pershing nodded: ?Second-line trench!?

 

Yet on they went through mire like pitch

Till they came to a fine and spacious ditch

Well camouflaged from planes and Zeps

Where soldiers stood on firing steps

And a Major sat on a wooden bench;

And the Sergeant whispered, ?First-line trench!?

And the Captain whispered, ?First-line trench!?

And the Aide repeated, ?First-line trench!?

And Pershing whispered, ?Yes, I see.

How far off is the enemy??

And the faithful Aide he asked, asked he,

?How far off is the enemy??

And the Captain breathed in a softer key,

?How far off is the enemy??

 

The silence lay in heaps and piles

And the Sergeant whispered, ?Just three miles.?

And the Captain whispered, ?Just three miles.?

And the Aide repeated, ?Just three miles.?

?Just three miles!? the General swore,

?What in the heck are we whispering for??

And the faithful Aide the message bore,

?What in the heck are we whispering for??

And the Captain said in a gentle roar,

?What in the heck are we whispering for??

?Whispering for?? the echo rolled;

And the Sergeant whispered, ?I have a cold.?

[Evil Sid]

i can well imagine that happening after reading it. as i read it i could imagine these people creeping along through the mud and smoke trying not to make too much noise just in case until at last they get to a certain soldier to be commended for bravery or some such. the final lines add a nice twist.

 

it has a similar style to some of the marriot edgar poems.

[Jerry]

When I was in third grade our teacher asked us to come up with a poem. Next day a girl raised her hand and said she had one. She declaimed: Spring is here. Birds cheer.

 

Next day a scruffy boy that no one would ever suspect of being a poet raised his hand and offered: Spring is here. Birds cheer. Flowers bloom, every year.

 

If we change every to ev'ry, I believe that almost SCANS!!! Close, but no cigar. At the time though the whole class was just knocked over in astonishment at such talent. Huzzahs and hurrahs.